“It just fell out, and I picked it up, I didn’t mean to read it! Please don’t hurt me!” She whimpered. Lady Une scowled at her, and snatched the book from her grasp. It was a plain, red leather bound book, and on the words on the front page read ‘The diary of Miss Anne Une, AC 189.’ How embarrassing! This little squirt was reading her old diary! Usually, she would have slapped her but as she was leaving and was in a particularly good mood, she only glared at her and told her to quick march down to the runway.
If any of the poor cadets she had been terrifying had seen her soon afterwards, they wouldn’t have been half of scared of her. The excitement of leaving and going to headquarters had finally got to her when the plane took off, and she was now so jittery and agitated that she could barely sit still. In an effort to compose herself, she decided to read the first thing at hand. She rummaged through her bag, but it was only filled with compacts Kirby grips and ribbons. In annoyance, she looked around her and suddenly, she the old diary she had snatched off the cadet. I suppose that it is good to read it, to muse over old times as they say. She thought, flicking through the pages. ‘February 1rst, AC 189,’ she read, ‘Dear Diary, you will not believe what exciting news arrived here today! Papa’s old friend from Eton, Fitzwilliam Catalonia, sent a letter asking if we would be good enough to look after his cousin for a few weeks, as he believes that the fresh air and wilderness of Loch Striven would do him some benefit. Papa was unwilling, but mama and I positively insisted because there is so little to do around here and life is as dull as is possible. He is to arrive here in the next few days. The only other thing that happened today is that Papa is talking about having to sell my old school books for money and I know it is selfish, but I wanted to keep them…’ the pages for the second and third were all blank, and the next entry was for the fifth; ‘Dear Diary, our guest arrived today and…’ there was a pause in the cramped, tidy handwriting, ‘my goodness, I have never in all my life met anyone at all like him!’ she continued, her writing becoming rushed and passionate. ‘Treize Khushrenada radiates a presence that captivates you the moment you see him, and I was awed the very moment he walked into the study today. Yet, there is a look of melancholy in that presence gives the impression that the weight of the world is on his shoulders. Perhaps it is only because he was recently unwell-I have not been told exactly what happened, but when mama, papa and Mr. Khushrenada were talking, I heard papa mention something about his ‘time in hospital in the colonies’ and when he was walking by me, he faltered as though in pain and I had to grasp him so he did not fall (I can only imagine what colour I turned after that!) Mama and papa have to go out to work tomorrow, so I shall be left on my own to entertain my guest. In all honesty, I am looking forward to and dreading tomorrow at the same time… 6th February Having spent all night thinking about the next day, by this morning I was positively foreboding it. I woke after Mama and papa had left, and I spent as much time on my toilette as possible, eventually choosing my white and pink muslin before finally making my way down the stairs to the breakfast room. I had hoped, that after a morning of my uncomfortable and meaningless chitchat, our guest might be inclined to go outside for a walk beside the loch to get some fresh air. You can imagine my horror to enter the breakfast room to see Mr Khushrenada sitting looking out at the pouring rain! I would have to stutter my way through conversations for the whole day! I took a deep breath and greeted him cheerily, to which he replied in a more subdued and sorrowful tone. I sat down at the table for a moment- thought about beginning a conversation- but cowardice caught hold of me and I ran to the kitchen, mumbling something about making tea. When I did return (I had not been able to make any tea, my hands were shaking with nerves) I sat down and began to knit away madly to calm myself. (I would have had needles through my fingers if I had done embroidery!) and began some casual conversation. “Sir, might I ask what brings you here to this virtually uninhabited edge of the civilised world?” I stuttered. He turned from the window, and looked at me in a way that I cannot describe, a mixture of surprise, annoyance, and that underlying sadness. “I was wounded while fighting in the colonies. My cousin thought it was best I took sometime to rest.” He replied. I was rather concerned, of course, and asked what happened. “The Special troops had been fighting rebels in the colonies, and while on X-18999, there was a skirmish and a missile was fired at the communications tower. I was able to prevent any harm coming to the cadets, but the mobile suit I was in virtually destroyed, and the metal in the cockpit snapped and slashed my sides.” He replied impassively, as though getting hurt in battle was a very run of the mill occurrence. “Yes, I have heard a great deal about the Specials. Papa talks about their success in battle with much reverence.” I said, trying to continue the conversation. I was beginning to believe that both of us would have preferred solitude, but I had to continue talking for a little longer, for politeness sake. “Mobile suits render all other forms of warfare on a large scale obsolete, and allow generals to conduct wars with more compassion than earlier methods. The Special troops exist only through recognition of that fact, and excel only through the talent of the pilots.” I wondered if this was said in an effort to render me dumb, but I do not give up so easily, nor do I feel threatened by words that make other girls my age confused to the point of surrender. “Nonetheless, no one did recognise this fact before you, Sir.” I replied in amusement. “They did, but those people merely lacked the financial backing to create a mobile suit unit.” I suddenly reminded myself that the purpose of Mr. Khushrenada staying with us was so he would not have to work, or think about battles and warfare. I decided to swiftly change the subject. “I should not be forcing you to discuss your work when you are here on ‘holiday’,” I said coolly, “Hmm, to be honest, I cannot imagine why your cousin suggested you stayed here. I am sure there are far more scenic and pleasurable places than this drafty old house on the shores of Loch Striven, where it seems likely that the rain will prevent you getting any fresh air at all.” He looked very heavy hearted. “It rains a great deal here?” “Constantly. It is a day of great rarity when it only rains heavily.” “I see.” I knew I had said something very wrong and I had no idea what it was, but I was so embarrassed at my self for saying whatever it was that I said; the composure I had been beginning to gain had retreated, and I could no longer bring myself to open my mouth. As neither of us seemed prepared to say anything, I decided that it would not be shockingly rude of me to excuse myself and take sanctuary in another room for a few silent hours. I eventually decided to finish painting the picture of a climbing rose I had drawn in the garden one of the days when it had only rained a little, so I sat in the study, full of good intentions. I tried to focus on making sure that I mixed the right colour of pink, the shade was dark enough at the centre of the flower… but my mind kept drifting to our guest. The presence he emitted, the things he said, the way he said them, how he looked, and all the sorrow I could see in his countenance, he filled my thoughts in a way that someone who you have barely spoken to simply should not. I began, virtually subconsciously at first, to draw the face I could not get out of my mind. Stubby pencil in hand, I sketched away on my drawing book. Time seemed to have no meaning this afternoon; hours flashed by as quickly as minutes as my mind was completely focused on drawing his hair the right length, his eyebrows perfectly, (they are split at the end! How strange!) And trying to portray, as best one can with mere lead, the heart-rending look in his eyes… “I see you are water colouring, Miss Une.” My ‘model’ said from behind me. I screamed and jumped up, sending my chair, drawing book and forgotten water pot flying. As you can imagine, Mr. Khushrenada discovering me drawing him would be most embarrassing! It would make him think I have improper feelings for him, which I do not. He seemed greatly amused by my reaction, and he smiled merrily. I tried (and failed miserably) to regain some self-possession. “My, Sir, you gave me a terrible fright! How long had you been standing behind me?” I asked shakily. “No time at all.” He assured me, though I had trouble believing him. It was foolish of me to think that you could excel in military academy and on the battlefield if you could not sneak up on a day dreaming idiot like myself. Nonetheless, he did not mention his likeness, which I had been so engrossed in sketching. “I wondered where you were- you said you would return to the breakfast room momentarily, so imagine my confusion when four hours passed without your return.” I did not remember mumbling an excuse, but I apologised profoundly and begged for forgiveness, making Mr. Khushrenada smiled again. I felt that he either felt better for his hours of solitude, or that my reaction to his entrance was even more ridiculous and undignified than I already deemed it to be. “I drew back to here because I was sure my dull company was a bore for you.” I said honestly. He looked me in the eye, and told me that was not the case at all, then stole his gaze away to appraise my rose painting; one of the few things I had not knocked off the table. “This is quite beautiful, you are extremely talented.” I felt my face turn the same colour as the painting on the table at this compliment. “Do you like roses, Miss Une?” I replied sincerely that I did, and before I knew what I was saying, I was telling him all about my rose garden, which I spent all last summer labouring on. “I should like to see it, when the weather improves.” He replied, and one glance out the window at the weather washed all the cheer from his face. “You shouldn’t allow the rain to dampen you spirits sir,” I said, wondering why the rain got him down so, “You might think me a fool, but I always feel that rain can be rather beautiful in its powerful and tempestuous way. I often feel that a walk in the rain is often more peaceful and calming that one in the glaring sun.” He walked over to the window. “It rained in the colonies…” He murmured, staring out the window at the view of the Kyles of Bute. “I know it is beautiful, but if you enjoy walking in the rain too much, you can forget that it can chill. I feel its damp already.” “It can indeed chill, to the very marrow, but that is why you must be careful and not forget what it can do to you.” I agreed. “I wasn’t careful.” He said sadly, staring longingly out of the window at the sky. “Pardon?” I asked. “Have I missed something?” I was talking about the weather, but unless this was some secret Specials weather code, he definitely wasn’t. It was as if my words brought him back down to earth and remember where he was and in whose company. He turned away smartly from the window and smiled in a rather strained way. “It is nothing, and old memory.” I decided to ignore my bursting curiosity, and once I had tidied up the water pot and all the mess, I went to make some tea.’ The entry from the sixth ended here rather abruptly, and the entry began again on the next page. 7th February I am beginning, very slowly, to relax in Mr. Khushrenada’s company, as I am now capable of holding a simple conversation and only stuttering a few times in a sentence. Mama and papa left us again this morning, and after breakfast, while I knitted and he read, he talked of all his friends and family. I rather wished I knew so many people and that I had made more effort when at school to dampen my imperious nature and make more friends, so I had more people I could discuss. As I was unwilling to talk about my family lest our financial situation became apparent, I talked all about the area around my home where I had grown up and knew so well; the hills behind the house, the shingle beach at the bottom of the garden and the loch itself, though carefully avoiding all mention of the weather. “It is particularly nice at this time of year when the first snow drops begin to pop up. Well, it has been a long time since I was home at this time, but I remember it vividly from when I was younger.” I said, beginning to wish I hadn’t, knowing it would inevitably bring up the topic of my neglected formal education. “Yes, why aren’t you at school?” He asked, looking up from the book he was reading. “Well, I had been, up until the end of the Christmas holidays, but mama decided that I should go to Military Academy instead.” I replied, trying to keep all annoyance and disappointment at being forced to go out of my voice. “But you don’t want to go.” He stated, and I decided I must be a terrible actor. “It is not so much that, but I am not suited to go. Papa says that the world needs ladies like me who can bring determination onto the battlefield, but I’m not really determined, and mama brought me up the way she was brought up the way she was brought up and the way all the ladies in her family have been for generations, just so they marry high. I’m accomplished, but I cannot hold a gun.” I real reason I was being sent was because mama and papa couldn’t afford the school fees anymore and military academy was free, if you talked to the right people. I felt I really shouldn’t be saying these things, but I needed to voice my complaints. “It aggravates me that I spent all my life years learning how to paint and sing and play instruments and speaking the right languages and reading the right classics, and suddenly I have to give it all up and become a brainless soldier!” I cried, before working out in absolute horror what I had just said. Not very sensible things to say to someone you barely know and oh! just happens to be a solider. I wanted to jump out of the window. “No.” He said and slapped the book shut, making me almost frightened at his determination. “You are very wrong on that point Miss Une. What is the point of a brainless soldier? Then he is no more than a mercenary; a soldier must fight for what he believes in and wants to protect. It is very unfair to force you to go, but I can assure that if anything or anyone threatens your family or your home then you would find determination to fight.” I nodded, and was going to say something in reply, when- “What is this, Treize? Are you recruiting new cadets?” An unknown voice came from behind me, and I turned to see a man who looked about thirty five, was tall and had the most amusing facial hair I have ever seen; he has long blonde locks, but a smoky grey coloured beard and a smoky grey moustache. Nonetheless, he looked very powerful and commanding in his blue coat and military uniform. “General Catalonia, what are you doing out here?” Mr. Khushrenada asked calmly; this strange man was the famous OZ general, Fitzwilliam Catalonia, papa’s friend from Eton. “I thought I would pop over and see how you were doing. Aren’t you happy to see me, cousin?” He grinned cheerily. I got the immediate impression that he was a very jolly man, but from what I had heard, he was not the sort of person you wanted to get on the wrong side of. “It is an unexpected surprise, Sir.” Mr. Khushrenada replied, the turned to me. “Miss Une, may I introduce you to General Fitzwilliam Catalonia, my cousin. General, may I introduce you to Miss Anne Une.” I nodded politely to the general as a greeting. “What about her parents, Treize? Where the devil are they?” He asked, without even acknowledging me. “They are working, sir.” Mr. Khushrenada said calmly, and the general grunted, sitting down beside me. “Well, Miss Une, your father and I were very good friends at Eton, you know. Bosom buddies as they say, though he was as tight-fisted as a Scotsman!” I was greatly amused what was either ignorance of the fact that I was half Scottish, or by his rudeness that was meant to infuriate me. “Yes, he is mean, isn’t he?” I agreed, in my most sociable manner. He looked horrified, and I could tell he was quite the joker. “ What a dreadful thing for a daughter to say about her father! By golly! I hope my daughter doesn’t say things like that about me!” Our conversation, or the one that continued from this point to when my mother and father returned home and afterwards all through dinner, followed the same train of cheery banter and light-hearted comments. Things became more serious and it became quite evident why the general had come after the meal, when it is custom the men to sit and talk over brandy. However, it was then Mr. Khushrenada disappeared to get some files and documents for his cousin and mama retired to bed with a headache leaving me with the two men, who forgot all about me. “I have to ask, Catalonia, why you sent you cousin to us of all people. Surely a young man like that must be bored numb by this wilderness, he would be better off in the city.” My father said, swirling his precious brandy about in the glass. “He isn’t a problem, is he?” The general asked, and my father shook his head. “No, he’s a nice boy. Good company (and my wife is quite taken with him) but why is he here?” General Catalonia laughed. “Katrina likes him, eh? Always knew that one would be a lady-killer.” He shook his head, and became deadly serious. “The thing is, Une old boy, he was away fighting on the colonies and he got an injury, then he comes back after a month or two looking melancholy and heart broken; a changed man. I’ve seen it hundreds of times before, boy get hurt, pretty nurse brings him back to health, flirts with him then gives him the cold shoulder, so boy ends up heart broken. It’s happened to me before; there was a pretty nurse in Tokyo, and she flung me off as soon as a more handsome soldier turned up. That was lucky for Lady Dorothy, what? But that sort of thing isn’t like Treize. He’s not any old soldier; he’s a powerful and useful leader, and I have grand plans for him, though he doesn’t know it yet. I wanted to get him away from it all, get some fresh air and recover properly; after all, a leader is no use to his soldiers if his mind is on other things.” “So you sent him where is rains so much you can barely go out the door and he can spend all day missing this lost love?” My father retorted. “I had forgotten about the damned rain.” General Catalonia admitted. “I expect even just the change will do him good.” My father rolled his eyes. “You were always bloody well forgetting things, Catalonia. Do you remember that time you forgot you had a final exam and went off on a date with some woman?” He reminisced, and their conversation became flippant again. I felt terrible for poor Mr. Khushrenada. It explained why he looked so sad, and though I wanted to comfort him, I wouldn’t know what to say. I sat feeling very sorry for him until both the men had left, seemingly having never even noticing my presence in the room. I gave myself a shake, and still trying to think of some sympathetic things to say that would make him feel better, I walked along to try and find where the rest of the party had gone to. I hate to admit it, but my mother never had many morals, and she always told me that when it was the season and she was down in the Romefeller headquarters the way she always learned all the gossip was by listening through doors. I had always told her that was a terrible thing to do, but I found myself doing it as I walked past the library. “Cousin, what on earth were you thinking sending me here?” Mr. Khushrenada said in a stern disapproving tone. I was horrified that he thought that way, and pressed my ear to the door “Why do you say that, Treize?” The general asked sharply, and I had perceived he was not always so cheery; now he sounded very angry and threatening. “This family are… deeply in debt, to the point that they can no longer afford to sent Miss Une to school and had to send away their servant. Then, their inconsiderate friend dumps a guest on them that they are obliged to take in!” Mr. Khushrenada cried, and I heard the sound of General Catalonia standing up sharply. “Now you see here, boy!” He snapped, but Mr. Khushrenada continued. “General, you must take me away from here before I cause any more bother for them.” He said. My heart skipped a beat. “My goodness! I am very glad I was passing by just there!” I quickly opened the door, and walked in. I simply couldn’t allow him to leave so early, when I had barely got to know him! “I must inform you, Mr. Khushrenada, you have quite misunderstood our situation.” I told him, and he looked most uncomfortable to know I had heard their conversation, and General Catalonia looked terribly angry with him. I think there are some undertones I am ignorant of. “True, we were having some problems recently, bad crops and the like,” I said casually, “but we made some little economises, like servants and sold some land and now everything is regaining stability.” I assured them. Lie, lie, lie, lie! I thought. “We would be most offended if you left so prematurely, Mr. Khushrenada.” I added. He begged for forgiveness for his error, and I reassured him it was no problem. 8th February I was deluding myself last night when I wrote that, of course it was a problem. Though I am painfully aware of our impoverished position, I was offended to hear anyone else talk of it. This morning it was though everything that happened on the other days had been a dream. We were left alone together again when mama and papa took general Catalonia to the airport, and we sat making meaningless conversation that eventually came to a stalemate. My feelings about last night were weighing on my heart, and I was most uncomfortable to be in his company again. “Miss Une, I must ask why you lied last night.” He said eventually. “Because I would rather that my family’s situation was not spread around Romefeller.” I explained, trying to rid my voice of its insulted tone . “Neither my cousin or myself would have mentioned it.” He said, rationally. “There is no dishonour in admitting the truth.” “The only things we have left are the title and our pride. We will not give them up that easily!” I cried, angrier than I had intended. I was in a temper now, so I asked what was really tormenting me. “Mr. Khushrenada.” I said quickly. “What happened with the woman in the colonies?” I asked, staring forward with the look of indignation that can only be perfected after two thousand years of ancestral aristocratic arrogance. He gasped in surprise. “How do you know about Leia?” He demanded, walking quickly over to the window. “Your… cousin… mentioned it.” I said softly, the lightening fading within me as quickly as it came, and I immediately wished I had never opened my mouth. He looked like his pride had been hurt as well as heart broken, but it was more than that; there was a real look of agony in his eyes like he could see no end to the gruelling task ahead of him because all joy and hope that life held for him had been wiped away. I was filled with such a desperate horror and deepest affection that took my breath away, as if I had been winded. How could someone so perfect be so unhappy? What sorrow lay behind him and ahead of him? Why could I do nothing to help? I was drowning in a flood of feelings, and I had to escape- I ran out into the pouring rain, crying my eyes out, eventually finding myself in the rose garden. I felt that Mr. Khushrenada’s loss of faith had taken all joy out of my life as well. My life a mere two days ago when I hadn’t known him felt like just an empty shell of an existence. There was more to life than silly ladies and silly gentlemen only thinking about silly parties, there was something so much more glorious than that. Meeting him had set my soul free- such euphoric despair… I don’t know how he found me, but I looked up, and he was standing in front of me, soaked through his coat, hair plastered to his head, and water dripping of the ends of his eyebrows. He sat down beside me, and I could feel his closeness and warmth cause sparks through my whole self. We sat in the pouring rain for a moment, probably making quite the picture. “Treize, you must understand that the rain on the colonies was not real, but that down here on earth there is a very genuine rain!” I whispered ardently. He turned looked at me and smiled honestly. “Yes, I know that.” He replied, and I grinned like an idiot, making him laugh. He noticed the state I was in, and laughed slightly again. “You’re going to catch your death from this rain.” “I cannot think of a better way to die!” I cried recklessly, but he carefully took off his half cloak and gently put it over my shoulders, and we ran inside. We went into the study, drew the curtains to keep warm up the room, and as he flung logs on the grate and lit the fire, I sat with my hair down to let it dry and still wrapped up in his cloak that smelt of him; of crisp winter days and dark chocolate fondant bars. “You wanted to know about Leia, then.” He said as he sat down on the chair across from me. “Not if you don’t want to tell me!” I insisted. “I would rather tell you, I think.” He replied, and I nodded slowly. “I was in hospital in the colonies, where Leia was a nurse. Her father owned the hospital. We seemed to understand each other, and I was completely reliant on her for a few weeks or so, which can have some surprising effects. I didn’t waste any time when I was discharged to make sure I saw her again. But I was back at work, and I could only seeing her when I had the chance. But I found it impossible think, work or sleep for thinking of her, and after one date I told her that I loved her, and, erm… Well, the next day I went to see her, but I was ambushed by her father in the corridor who told me that Leia had no intention of seeing me again, and that I was to stop following her around. And she was standing just behind, arms folded with a blank, loveless expression on her face, as if I meant nothing to her.” I reached forward, and put my hand gently on top of his. “You still love her?” I asked tentatively, and he shook his head. “Nothing on the colonies was real. She pretended to be perfection, but I see it was only and act.” “I am most glad to hear so…” I began, but my mother’s entrance in the study interrupted me. Imagine her horror to see her daughter sitting in the study with the curtains closed, clothes sopping wet and her hair down, wrapped in the cloak of a dashing young man who was in the same state, with her hand resting on top of his! Most mothers would have been scandalised, but my mother? She only thought what a wonderful catch Mr. Khushrenada would make!’ The next twenty days were entries filled with soppy adoration and days in the sunshine that eventually made an appearance, making the slightly more mature Lady Une cringe in embarrassment. She flipped to the 28th of February, the final entry, a fortnight before she left for Inverness. 28th February It was another sunny day today. Ha! I make myself laugh; a sunny day in Argyle in February! It was a day without rain, anyway, so we went for a picnic. I wandered off to find a stream to fill the kettle for tea, and returned to see him lying asleep on the grass. I have never seen anyone who can look so calm when they sleep, he seemed to smile peacefully as he was dreaming of pleasant things. When I think of what I saw of him at first, so glum and depressed he now seems relaxed and ready for what fate, and God, will throw at him. At the bottom of my heart, I like to believe I brought on this change. But no, it surely couldn’t be me; I am not worth anything, not yet anyway. I watched him sleep for a while, knowing it was an opportunity that I would never get again. I was well aware that he was leaving the next day, so I eventually woke him, not wanting to waste a minute longer. “I must admit something to you, Sir, and I don’t want you to feel responsible for it.” I said loudly, and he woke up. I really didn’t want to talk about the subject at all. “My mother and father have to sell the house and the land, giving up the title. They are going to have to move, and I will go to military academy. I thought you would want to know.” He gave his regrets, and I shrugged casually. “I had been expecting it for a very long time, but I had always wanted to eventually be Lady Anne, not just plain old Anne Une.” I sighed glumly. “You know, there are other ways of being called a lady.” He told me suggestively, but I only laughed. “Well, if I married a Duke I could become a Duchess, that would be even better…” “In legend, a ‘lady’ was a woman that a knight was indebted to, and I am most indebted to you, my lady.” He said genuinely. “But I…” “I was depressed when I came here, but your kindness has made me ready to face the world again. I will never forget your help, Lady Une.” And in a most gallant manner, he kissed my hand like a knight from Arthurian legend, before leaving me to go and pack.’ The final entry ended there, as the plane touched down. Lady Une walked off the plane with as much authority as she could muster, scowled at the soldier who was to show her the way to her office (start as you plan to continue, as I always say), but all the way there her stomach fluttered with butterflies. I tried so hard- I was determined to be a lady, I was determined to do my best, and I am finally here, I finally achieved my ambition! She walked into the office in breathless excitement and anticipation. “Lieutenant Lady Une reporting for duty, Colonel Treize, Sir.”