VeniceSepia

"Charlotte?" My mother calls from down in the foyer. I roll my eyes and slide off the duvet where I had been comfortably relaxing, sprawled out like no one was watching. Of course, my servant Millie had been. She follows me around like a dog loyal to his master. 'Can I get you a feathered pillow, miss?' and 'Fetch you a basin of water for your face, miss?' No, Millie, run back to your quarters and take a nice, long rest. I'd never say that to her though, she's too sweet and fragile. And really, I adore her. "Coming, Mother!" I call, like the proper girl I've been sculpted to be. Millie, of course follows my every footstep, bumping into me as