Period Romance

OK, bereft of any real inspiration, I've added a bit, finally getting Fermina outside the walls of La Denetrione. What happens next is up to you, Elanor. As I mentioned earlier, the complete transcript can be found here.

She was to leave for Espantaso de la Alumbramiento Virginal immediately. The Count Daza would not back down – this Fermina knew. She was to leave tonight, and it was with a weary resignation that she went about packing her meagre posessions, and saying goodbye to the home, the prison, that she had known all these years.

It was under the cold watch of darkness that she descended the stone steps towards the family coach that was to take her to the port. As per the Count’s wishes, Alejandro was to accompany Fermina for the first leg of the journey. This provided her with a slight relief – as her world seemed to be collapsing around her, at least this familiar noble face would shine a small ray of light into the darkness that lay ahead.

It was a face Fermina had known since her childhood. Alejandro’s family had been living within the walls of La Denetrione for centuries, in the humble servant’s quarters tucked in the corner between the stables and rookery. It was a building that could just be glimpsed from Fermina’s window, and it was with a sometimes obsessive interest that she had watched Alejandro develop from small, playful child, to roughly handsome man – a transformation that Fermina barely noticed happen until it was complete. Perhaps because of this separate yet shared history, Fermina felt she could trust him – as much as she could trust any man.

She soon reached the carriage and handed her bags to the driver. The Count was not to see her off, although she felt his watchful eyes upon her. His quarters were directly above the entrance-way, and she knew that he would be watching the proceedings below, if only to ensure that they proceeded smoothly. Before she stepped into the coach, Fermina turned round for one last time.
“Goodbye La Denetrione. Goodbye”. With this, she leaped up, and gingerly seated herself in the compartment, ignoring Alejandro’s outstretched hand.
“Drive,” she said, and within seconds, the horses had sprung to life, and she was being swept out beyond the stone walls of her former home. With Alejandro by her side, and her old life a distant memory, Fermina surged forth into the dark, dusty streets of Madrid. The city. For this brief instant – between her former prison, and the prison that awaited her – the city was hers.