Rubbing at her sky blue eyes, she would be walked to the wash basin. The servants allowed her to bathe for an hour before fetching her. Drying her slender body with dry towels, they quickly dressed her in a gown the color of pale ivy. Wanda would perform last minute details with her hair and face, where she applied a gentle dusting of powder to already white cheeks. Standing a far as the servants worked their daily duties, stood a woman basked in scarlet silks. Monet Sanston, mother of Ciara, stood watching her daughter being prepared in dreary silence. It was not that Lady Sanston was mute, but she just waited for her daughter to be finished. Today was a special day and her daughter had to be perfect.
Once Ciara was done being primped, she silently followed her mother down the elegant halls of the Sanston Manor. The walls lay trimmed in magnificient paintings, sculptures and rugs. The Sanston manor ordered the best fineries that could be bought from Europe. Their manor lay in the heart of Williamsburg, Virginia. The Sanstons were one of the most powerful families in colonial Virginia. They owned a majority of land, with most being used for farming by the servants. When the Anglican Church was established, Mr. Christopher Sanston, was made part of the Church Council. Her husband in the Church Council and a prominent land-owner, Lady Sanston become a socialite for the high class families of Williamsburg. Party after party, the Sanston family began to become the top family of the fledgeling city.
Entering the dining hall, Ciara was seated away from her father and mother. Breakfast was brought in promptly as it always had. Business associates of her father were seated near Christopher Sanston, and would debate over things foreign to the young girl. Mr. Dalvin and Mr. Court were regulars in the morning. They would bicker over profit, the cost of slaves, and affairs relating to England. As to how much Mr. Sanston would pay attention to, was the question. He would wink occassionaly to his frail daughter from his seat of power. He was a loving and trusting man that had an air of nobility about him. Lady Sanston was the opposite of her mate, being aloof and hardened. Ciara was not allowed to talk when near her parents, especially at the table. This was why Wanda had become her only friend. The crone-like black woman had a twinkle in her eyes, one that showed secret knowledge. It was this twinkle that made Ciara curious of Wanda, but love her.
The manor was cleaned and prepared for the event. The daughter of the Sanstons was going to perform a small piano recital at lunch. The budding musician was going to perform her pieces in front of many influential people of the city. It was all part of the Sanston's plan, with Ciara as the painted poppet. By showcasing their daughter, they hoped to gain marriage proposals from other high class families. This would seal the family in a high ranking for centuries. All they needed was for their daughter to perform perfectly as practiced.
"I wish not to perform, Wind," Ciara had said the night before to her maid and friend. She had called Wanda by the name 'Wind' because of the old Maid's speed. When Ciara was younger, she would have Wanda chase her when her parents were not at the manor. It was the maid's speed that earned her the title, and Wanda always smiled when called it.
"Your parents need you to perform, little one," the maid chuckled as she tucked in her young charge, "It is rare you get to show your talent to the outside world." Wanda's words made Ciara sigh as she allowed her to tuck her in for the night.
"Can you stop it?" whispered Ciara suddenly, "Like the way you stopped the barn fire three months ago?" The wizened hands of the old maid stopped what they were doing suddenly. The young girl met those twinkling eyes, but the shine was replaced with fear.
"What do you speak of little one?" whispered Wind quickly, "How could I have stopped the fire?"
"I saw you, with that rag covered in blood..." began the girl slowly, "You were waving it in the air from behind the old oak so no one would see you..." It was clear that Wanda had thought herself invisible as she was doing her working. She slowly sat upon the edge of the bed, looking deeply at Ciara. The way she looked at her made the hairs at the back of the young girl stick up.
"Child, you saw something you should not have...." Wanda said as she reached up to touch the girl's chin warmly, "You saw something only my people know of. If your family knew what I did, I would be hanged."
"Oh Wind! I would never tattle upon you!" Ciara gasped suddenly as she grabbed Wanda's hand, "I know you know...spells...I just thought you could stop this. I hate being a puppet ever so much!" Wells of water began to rise in the child's eyes as she looked pleadingly to her longtime friend. Slowly, the old woman sat up and walked to a dresser reluctantly.Opening a drawer, she withdrew a pair of tarnished scissors. Wind returned to the side of the bed and urged Ciara to sit close. Quickly, she cut a lock of snow-white curl from the girl's head.
"What do you need hair for?" thought the girl out loud.
"It will help," said the woman softly as she bid Ciara to lay down, "Get some rest. I shall see you in the morning." As Ciara laid back, Wanda blew out the candles in her room before departing.