She would smile sheepishly, in mock apology, then do it again first chance she got.
Since William was in that awkward transition stage between being injured enough to need rest, but mobile enough that she was not exclusively confined to it. when her master announced that he intended to host a dinner party, he told William she may come down whenever she liked. Her heart leapt at the chance, until he added that she would be there, "And I have so longed for you to make the other's acquaintance."
It felt like a stab to the heart.
When the dinner guests arrived the night of the dinner party, William was reluctant to go down. She remembered the "elite" that came to visit the castle, and worried that these people might not be as kind. Either they would judge her most brutally, or, even worse, she would be excempt from adult rules as a child is, and be paraded before them like a precious little child or obedient dog. William could not bear either.
She hovered near the doorway for a long time, shrouded in the darkness of the hall, looking in on the glittering light of the crystalline lamps. She heart tittering laughter, clinking of glasses, and the rustle of fabric. From the crack in the door she saw glittering jewels, fine silk and fur fabrics, and hair pulled up even without hats.
She could hear her mast speaking as charmingly as he could, and from the corner of the doorway could see him too. As soon as her master saw her, he immediately grinned widely and approached.
"Ah, my little foundling! Just in time!"
William winced and wished she could pull herself away as he introduced her to the first group of people he came across.
"My, my! She is rather lovely!" exclaimed one.
"Where'd you ever find such a stunning specimen? Distant relation, perhaps?"
"If only it were the case, madam," the Count said. "I found her washed up on shore, with not but a name or voice to call her own."
'You didn't find me,' William thought miserably, 'And I do have a name. I just did not have a voice to share it with.'
"Good gracious, child! Is she quite all right?"
"However did you ever fix her up so well?"
And once again her master repeated the story of how he had taken her in and given her everything she possessed now.
"Good gracious, my lord! I can only imagine how much difficulty you went through!"
"She really has cleaned up nicely though, has she not?"
William quickly grew tired of being the subject of debate; of people talking about her, not to her.
While they were admittedly far more friendly than those who had come to visit the castle a few months ago, the way they viewed and addressed her was not much better than before. One middle-aged woman, plump and wrinkled, placed a maternal hand on her shoulder, pulled her a little aside, and asked, "And how do you like England so far, my little foundling? It must be far more stunning than where you're from."
While well-meaning, the woman's presumption in calling William "my little foundling," which was something only her master called her; her assumption that William had never seen England before (she had been told since she arrived at the Count's castle that she looked like the ideal English Rose - whatever that was - if only her manners matched the ideal), or that England was automatically superior to where she was from, quite annoyed her. That William agreed and loved England far more than the sea floor was completely irrelevant. William had seen where she was from and could tell the difference. This woman just assumed the place she grew up was superior to any other place in the world.
With a frown, William took out her journal and wrote: "I have a name. It's William Hanna."
"Well..." the woman sniffed, a little put off by William' bluntness, "So it is..."
And she quickly found an opportunity to talk to someone else, and shuffled away.
William couldn't say she was sorry.
"She is quite lovely," said a hard, stern, heavily accented voice behind her, and William turned abruptly.
She was met with a pair of the most piercing blue eyes she had ever seen.
Before her stood a man who looked, to her, to be of tall height and strong build, with his shoulders set back and his neck and head perfectly erect. Such posture struck William as one of thought and power. His head was noble and broad atop his broad chest. His grizzled face sported a hard square chin, a large resolute mouth, a good-sized nose, and big bushy brows beneath greying hair. Big, dark, intelligent, penetrating blue eyes seemed to see into her soul.
At once, William was struck by how stern the gentleman looked. No, stern doesn't begin to cover it. He seemed to possess an iron nerve, a temper of the ice-brook, and an indomitable resolution and self-command.
William curtsied instinctively, which was rare because she always had to be reminded. She could think of no other appropriate response.
Even the Sea King himself did not inspire such reverence.
The man seemed a little taken aback by her reaction, and said, not unkindly, "Nein, mein child, there ist no need."
She looked up timidly, wondering what such a gentleman could have to say to her.
Just then, the gentleman was joined by a younger man who shared vaguely similar features. He looked to be in his early to mid-thirties, tall and gangly, also with a rather impressive forehead and child. There was a similar intensity in his manner and gaze as the old gentleman, but not nearly as impressive, nor as well applied. He, too, possessed dark, intense, piercing blue eyes.
He looked much more relaxed and easy-going at the moment though, looking around with an eager smile.
"I say, old chap, quite the turnout, isn't it? Not at all what we were expecting..."
He had a vague accent, same kind as the gentleman before William, but he seemed to try to cover it with a more overt English accent and use of common sayings. William could not help suppressing a smile. Just like when Captain Bernadotte had teased Walter not too long ago with his own exaggerated English accent and sayings to cover his own French. "Right-o, chap!" and all that.
"Indeed, meine Sonne," the gentleman said. "The Count seem quite popular now."
"Oh, Indeed! Indeed!" the young man exclaimed, "Not at all what I expected. He seems very well-liked now. The scandal seems to have quite died out. Everyone in the party has nothing but good things to say about him. He is well-talked of everywhere else. Even the Earless of Canterbury, and she is impossible to please! It seems the old scoundrel has finally turned a new leaf - oh, what is this?"
He had caught sight of William.
"This is famous ward of Count Ramos."
"Oh..." he did a double-take, "Oh! She is quite lovely, is she?"
"Yes. This concern me."
Ignoring his son's confusion, the man stepped forward and addressed William exclusively. The closeness of his step and the intensity of his gaze made her nervous.
"Nein, dear child, there ist no need for that. I mean you no harm, no reproof. Only to ask simple question. Not even question, but friendly curiosity of concern well-wisher. You have not to fear from me, but kindly enquiring of old grandfather."
The kindness of his tone, and the gentleness of his manner, made William see that his eyes were quick and tender (with his mood) and his countenance reflected an all-embracing sympathy.
William raised her head slightly, and smiled self-consciously.
"Ah, much better, much better," the gentleman said. "Now, come, come. Let us sit over here, to drink tea und talk. Only a few question, only a few."
"Oh great, more tea," William thought with a sigh. She had grown to loath the stuff after several weeks in bed, with Walter coming in several times a day to bring her tea since he believed it would make her feel better. (It didn't.) She had heard from talk it was the "beverage of England," since during one of his visits to her room, Captain Bernadotte had mentioned that the English were obsessed with tea in a way that no other countries were, and which he didn't get, and William was immediately struck with a strong desire to exclaim, "Tell me about it!"
After they were comfortably
settled and served, the old gentleman leaned forward and said, "So, you are the pretty ward of the famous Count Ramos. Your name is William Hanna, correct?"
Pleased that someone finally used her name, William grinned and nodded emphatically.
The man smiled and nodded. "Ja, I see by your eager nod you are not called such very often?"
William shook her head.
"Ah, such a pity then! Shame on such men, to neglect such lovely name for such lovely lady. I see already you are quite beautiful, and bright, and gentle. A rare gem
A genuine smile crept onto William' face. Finally, someone recognized her thoughts and spoke to her directly like a person.
"Tell me, does Count treat you well?"
Confused, William nodded.
"Ah, gut, gut," he nodded, and patted her hand with every "gut." "You must forgive prying of old man. It is not intrusion I wish on your happy home, but mere curiosity over..."
Before he could say another word, the church girl stepped forward, and both men stood abruptly. William instinctively frowned.
"Oh please, there is no Father, Grandfather," the young woman said.
The younger man smiled brightly. "Ah, mijn engeltje!" he exclaimed, and placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead. "Or, as they say here in England: my little angel!"
"Oh, father," the young woman said, with not a little embarrassment.
"What?" the man said. "Am I not allowed to show a hint of affection? Particularly as I have not seen you in so long?"
"You only saw me not ten minutes ago. I have only been to get some tea, and was delayed by General Scarsard."
"Yes, but with a grown daughter who has spent most of her life in the finest schools, and the last five years in a convent, is it not natural for a man to take every opportunity to bestow affection upon his only daughter?"
"It was a religious school, Father," the young girl said. "I was taught in every religious and noble virtue, that has been mastered by the good women of God, yet I myself was hardly confirmed."
"Yes, but with fine education such as yours, shut away from the world, hidden in that little church as you studied under nuns, quite as though you would become one." Her father shook his head. "I think it very similar, especially after how long you were closed off from all in the wide world; including your own family!"
"Yet, it appears school did not do good enough," the old man grimaced.
"Oh, Grandfather," the girl sighed.
As they spoke, William studied the church girl. She was as lovely as she remembered, yet there was something vaguely more... mature about her. While her intelligent blue eyes still shone with truth and purity, there was also a... a sternness and intensity that had not been present before. The first time William had seen her, there had been an innocence, and almost worldly naiveté in her gaze that had almost matched her own. Now, while her eyes were still kind and clear, there was also a hardness that comes of being out, seeing the world, and resisting it's many discrepancies and temptations.
The old gentleman said, "Meine dear granddaughter, your father and I wish send you to school so you may be safe from evils of world, learn every good grace, manner, prayer, and strength of spirit to protect against evils of world. To avoid ruffians, and scoundrels, and all other that might use your considerable beauty, to bend your impress. Though you possess a man's brain, you have woman's frailty and heart, and a child's new-look on world."
"Oh Grandfather, you know how I feel about attributing my positive traits to those of men while my weaknesses to those of women."
The old gentleman looked confused. "How can I do such thing when women possess more sweetness, purity, and virtue no man possess?"
"And yet, the way one talks, we are sweet but so frail in everything it's a wonder we stand on our own, while men command good character and all the strength of the human race without even trying."
"Oh, there goes her 'New Woman' nonsense again," the younger gentleman scoffed.
"We sent you to school in part to root out such thought," the older gentleman said. "While you are more noble, clever, brave and indomitable in will than your whole sex - even from young age - sweetness of character, virtues of your sex, and devotion to God are paramount." The girl went to speak, and he interrupted, "Especially to protect you from those evil men that would exploit it."
"Grandfather, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself," the young woman said.
"And yet, while in school, you come across a known devil who have taken many wiser girl than you."
"Grandfather, I found him half-drowned on the beach," the girl said, "Should I have left him to die?"
"Of course not, dear maiden. You have the kindest heart and greatest care. To save him from drowning? None could expect any less! It is right proper Christian thing to do, full of good charity and sweetness of spirit. One can only applaud such altruism! And yet, to respond to his letters of devotion, after so many year of being warned against him..."
"Grandfather," she said sternly, "I agreed to let you come chaperone on the condition that you do not discuss this tonight. Are you not a man of your word?"
"Of course I am, dearest heart, but after seeing far more clever woman fall victim to his crime, and see a most beloved in the path of such evil that trod again, can one blame a most devoted grandfather from try to protect his most precious granddaughter?"
"Grandfather," she said very softly, and sternly, "with all due respect, reverence, and obedience, this is not the time..."
They eventually broke off into talking in their own language, which William did not understand. They spoke calmly enough, yet the old gentleman spoke earnestly, as though trying to convince the young girl of something, while she seemed steadfast in some decision.
No one seemed to take any more heed of her.
Unsure of what to do, she left.
After William walked away from the foreign family, she found her master talking with two ladies and a gentleman. He smiled warmly on seeing her, and she felt her heart bloom despite everything she had heard earlier. She remained happily by his side while he greeted his guests, until they eventually crossed paths with the church girl. William instantly frowned, while the Count was very pleased.
"Ah! My dear Fraulein," he said, and brought her hand to his lips in greeting.
"Please do not call me that," she said, "That is what my grandfather calls me."
"Then what terms of affection would you prefer, my lady?"
"None at present," she said.
There was a primness in her disposition that had not been present earlier.
"As you wish," he said warmly.
She nodded, then looked at William.
William felt sick with jealousy and hatred, and did not even try to hide it.
The church girl narrowed her eyes, and blinked. "I say, dear count, I saw this young lady speaking with my grandfather earlier this evening."
"Indeed? That must have been a surprise, for she is quite mute."
"Is she?" the girl asked, "I'm afraid I did not receive a chance to learn as such for myself. I meant to join in the conversation, but my grandfather turned his attention to the... usual topic," she sighed. "And I'm afraid his discussion with her quite dissolved, as his attention turned quite fixatedly onto me. I did not give her the attention she deserved at the time, nor have we been properly introduced despite our mutual acquaintance."
To William, her primness melted and she said in a warm, kind tone: "I would like to take this moment to apologize, and to ask you for your forgiveness."
William was determined to keep hating the church girl despite her gracious tone.
The Count chuckled. "I am sure she will forgive you quite readily."
William stuck out her tongue while his face was turned.
"Then pray, would you properly introduce us right this moment?"
"But of course, my dear lady, for I have been wishing to do just that for quite some time. This is my ward, William Hanna."
&
nbsp; The church girl looked startled. "This is your ward?!" she exclaimed
"Indeed, my lady," the Count smirked.
The church girl looked at William with very deep shock.
"I..." she attempted to compose herself, "I did not expect her to be this lovely."
"This is quite surprising, my lady, for her beauty does proceed her."
William looked at him in shock. It does?
"Yes, but I have often heard her described as a child. A very charming and beautiful child, but a child nonetheless. I quite expected to find a twelve-year-old."
"Indeed, you would hear such reports, my lady."
William looked at him in hurt and betrayal. How could he say that about her?!
"And yet, she is very much a young lady," the church girl said as diplomatically as she could.
"I should hardly call her such, my lady," the Count said with utmost graciousness. "She is not of any noble heritage that I know of, but it matters very little, for it does not dampen her good character in the slightest; nor her pure heart, her gracious manners, nor her sweet disposition. She would be the same whether she was of common or royal heritage, but as she refuses to disclose such information, she might as well be the little foundling she presents herself as. With no noble family or connections, there is nothing to lend her to the title of 'lady.' As for becoming a noble lady of high society, she shall not be presented, for her ignorance of your ways lend her to a great disadvantage, and the prejudice she would face against her from your society would assure that she will never thrive."
"Pray, what do you mean?"
"Of all the charming young women I have come across in my lifetime, she has the purest heart and the sweetest character of any I have had the pleasure of encountering," the Count said, and looked at William with unparalleled fondness. "But you reside in a very phonocentric society. You British high-borns believe that people's characters and intelligence comes with their ability to speak their thoughts and opinions out loud. Since she is dumb, and cannot speak with her voice, you believe that she has little intelligence, opinions, or social graces to speak of. You hear her speak out loud, you think she is little more than a child or a small animal. And you treat her as such."
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