Willow Michael Witch

This is the story of Willow Michael Witch, born from the mistress of a married man, on May 13th, 1609.


The first time I saw her, I was eighteen years old.
It was my cousin's twenty-first birthday ball - she was twenty-one now, and the daughter of my father's brother. But none of the guests acknowledged me as his son, though everyone knew the reality of things.
But her.
She was dancing in the arms of an unknown man, who was tall and blonde, perhaps sixteen or seventeen. Definitely younger than myself.
But the girl in question, was Elisabeth Darcy.
She was beautiful for a girl of her age, only fourteen.
Her hair was the the palest of blonds I had ever seen, long and curled.
She had a small face, and skin paler than snow - but her eyes were the most amazing. They were a bright blue, brighter than I had ever seen in my entire lifetime.
I could see the musicians stop as they paused to change tune, but in my mind it was still playing ... all I could see was her face.
It was so beautiful.
My cousin Mary smiled as she saw the attention I was paying to Elisabeth.

" That Eliza Darcy - she's the daughter of one of father's friends. But she's an orphan now, living with her Aunt Amalia in Bath. She's a dear girl, you know."

I frowned, my grasp tightening around the glass of wine I was holding in my hand.

" W - what are you talking about? I was ... watching the dancers." I stuttered nervously.

Mary sighed, still smiling.

" So deceptive, Will! But even then you're not so good at it. I'm not stupid, you know."

" I'm not lying, Mary." I answered.

Mary bit her lip, and surprised me as she marched over to the dance floor, spent a few minutes talking to Eliza, and marched right back up to me, the young girl holding her hand.

" Mary, I - !"

Mary stopped me, a grin on her face.

" Eliza, this is Willow. He's caught an interest with you, apparently, and is denying it."

Eliza's face lit up, and a smile appeared on her small face.

" Really - ?" she coughed, straightened her posture and corrected herself. " It's a pleasure to meet you, Willow."

I chuckled, and Mary left us silently.

" Same goes here. Is it all right if I pry who was the man with whom you were dancing with, earlier?" I asked, the need to satisfy my curiosity urgent.

Eliza smiled from the corner of her mouth.

" That was my cousin, George. He's courting Mary."

Surprised, I began to stutter again.

" Oh ... So you're alone? T- tonight, I mean."

" My Aunt is in London for the weekend, so I accompanied her. She's been watching me all night, acting as my chaperone."

- to be continued- (sorry if my history is bad, but I've never been too good at it.)

Seriously?
Are you kidding me?


That's amazing!

What, seriously? Thanks Opal! ^^


We talked for the rest of the evening - I got to know her, and she, me. It was surprising, how much the two of us had in common. We both liked Moliere, and we both enjoyed the art of Leonardo Da Vinci.
According to Mary, I didn't stop talking about her on the way to my room.

And lucky for me, I had been allowed to send her letters.
The week passed by me faster than I had expected, and soon Eliza was heading back to Bath, and I, was stuck in old London, alone and hated by the company of my father.
But that didn't matter to me anymore. Now, all I could think of was Eliza Darcy.

It had been three weeks since the Ball when I received my first letter from her; she was in Scotland with her Aunt, on a social call to her apparent "distant cousins"
I replied almost the second I had received it, smiling as I held the quill in my hand.
We exchanged letters for approximately seven months when I saw her again.

- Merci Mademoiselle. J'espère vous revoir dans le future." I smiled as the daughter of Sir Peraque left the room.
I had been in France for two weeks, with Mary and her I don't know how many young female friends.
But Eliza had not been with them ... I hadn't received any letters from her in nearly a month - I had no idea where she was, or what she was doing.
I had sent her letters every day since my arrival, but with no answers from her.
Mary had encouraged me to start courting her friend Sicillia, who apparently liked me very much since I had met her during my young childhood.
She was the same age as me - nearly nineteen in a mere four weeks.
So, exasperated, I had started courting her.
She wasn't an ugly creature, but ... plain. Her cheeks were a pale pink, her eyes a light blue, and her hair blonde. She vaguely resembled Eliza, but ... her features were not as unique.

Mary walked into the room, wearing a blue gown, and her hair curled.

- Will - so? How did it go with Sicillia?"