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Rosalinda Flores was a beautiful baby girl. She had wavy brown auburn hair with sparkling green eyes. The birth of a daughter would be a wonderful occasion for any parent.
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Most would be crying for joy but her parents can only sob in sorrow. They know that they cannot keep her. Their country, her country, is in turmoil. The country's government is going through political upheaval.
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“Be safe my daughter, we love you” her mother Queen Maria whispers as she kisses her head. Maria hands her to her father, King Consort Nicholas. He seems in contrast to his wife in many ways.
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Maria's hair is a complete mess and red itchy eyes. Whereas Nicholas is more clean faced and stoic. Do not mistake his heart is breaking. Who wouldn't for having to give their daughter up. He goes out onto the balcony and addresses his people. “Friends, I bring you, you're Future Queen”.
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Applauds ring out across the crowds. It takes one arrow to shoot Nicholas in the shoulder. “You're Majesty” Roland yells and grabs the King. They make a dash for the passage ways. The rebellion is making its way into the palace. “Take her” Nichloas pleads as he makes Roland take his daughter.
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Roland gets on his horse and hides the princess in his cloak. “I will raise her as one of my own” Nicholas nods to him and commands the horse to leave.
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The trees keep him from view for the most part. The amount Roland travels takes days. He endlessly rides even in the cold rain. Which is common for England in March.
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The trees and forest turn into grassy lands and valleys. He comes upon his family's home. It is a wonderful looking mansion but it looks more like a castle. It has khaki gray stone walls. The roof itself is more like black marble.
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This mansion may not look like much to many. Not the grandest place in all of England by any means but to Roland it's everything.
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This mansion is the very Pembroke Estate, ancestral home of the Darcy's. Duke Roland is the first born son of William Darcy and Angelica Anderson. As with any property when his father died it passed to him.
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In Roland's opinion it should have gone to his elder sister Elizabeth. Unfortunately in England's current day and age it is not legally possible nor socially acceptable.
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“I promise to treat you as one of my own” he says to Rosalinda and the servants come to greet him. “You're Grace” the Butler, Mr. David Miller stops in his tracks. “Where..who?” Mr.Miller and the entire household was concerned. The Master was only meant to be gone for a day or two at the latest.
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Roland has been gone for four days. In the race to make it home he only slept once or twice.
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A scream echos the halls and terror shocks through his body. It must be his wife Miranda Darcy. She was due any day before Roland left that is.
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He tries to barge into the room but the Housekeeper, Mrs. Tatina Miller stops him. “You can't” Mrs. Miller puts her hands on his shoulders. Roland shakes her off but that doesn't stop her.
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Mrs.Miller has worked for the family since he was a boy and she blocks his path. “You will do them no good drench from the rain” what she really means is “You're no good to them dead”.
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“Take Roselinda to the wet nurse” Roland puts Rosie in Mrs.Millers arms. He treads up the staircase to his old room. The room from when he was still a child. He plan this as his room for the night. Roland wanted to provide the best comfort to Miranda, especially after her labor. In society's eyes he is the man of the house. In Roland's eyes they are a unite and a team. Like a well oiled machine they work together.
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He changed into something warm and dry. A white shirt and some brown breeches with suspenders. What he really wants is to go for his wife but they won't let him. No matter what, even as a Duke.
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Women work, they call it but the person she wants the most is not allowed in. Society never plays a fair game. Hours pass by and a cry of a baby rings out and falls silent. All of that work, all of that danger for the baby to pass on to the next life.
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Such is the way of the world in the 19th century. Unforgiving and unkind, no matter the social class.
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After the loss of their child, Miranda could not and would not move. It's like an eternal darkness encased her heart. When her child died, so did she. She wished and begged God to bring her back. He didn't. In her own pain she forgot Roland's. He too suffered in silence.
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When a child dies they grieve for the mother but never the father. It breaks him just as it does the mother.
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The baby was his child too.
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The door to the masters room cracks open. Bringing some light in the dark and hopeless room. It shines like a lighthouse in the dark sea.
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Miranda turns slowly but surely. Everything nowadays feels like a chore. A soft gurgling sound is heard and she lifts her head. If the first thing to really gain her attention all day.
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“She needs a name” Roland tells her and hands the baby girl to Miranda. “Doesn't she have one?” Miranda questions. She gets a good look at her. She is less than a week old and has rosy cheeks and a small smile. “Her name shall be Arabella” Miranda decides and Arabella grabs her finger and laughs.
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“We will raised you as our daughter”.
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Both of them decided that before she was born. They and Arabella’s birth parents feared a rebellion.
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So for the next twenty year they did until one day it would be safe for the Crown Princess to return home.
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That's where this story begins.
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