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She was accustomed to the finer things in life. Born of wealth, she knew not of poverty or suffering.
She was the
Beauty.
He was of a like mind, well bred and born to grand posessions and endless opportunities.
He was the Count.
Once
he laid eyes on her, he knew he must claim her. She was merely nineteen years old when they married. She was pleased with
her fine husband. He was overjoyed with his lovely wife.
But not too long in the marriage did it become clear to the Countess
that there was one thing the Count enjoyed far more than her.
The French Espionage.
The Count did love his Country with
a passion that could not be equaled. He suspected that his Countess was jealous of the time he spent away, but there was nothing
for it, for he was a man of honor, and honor was found in serving and protecting his nation.
The Countess did become increasingly
envious, she wished for her Count to be with her more often, but her pleas always feel on deaf ears.
Soon it became apparent
to those surrounding them, that the young couple's marriage was strained. It had been three years and not a child born to
succeed the title.
Then whispers were heard that the Count had taken another to his bed and sympathetic glances were given
to the Countess.
So it was no surprise that when the Count was found murdered, in the bed he shared with his Countess,
that she was the first suspect.
With her heart grieving for her loss, she dared not stay in France, where they wanted to
see the delicate woman suffer for the murder. She tried explaining she was not involved but they refused to listen.
And
so, she left. Leaving behind the riches and all her worldly posessions, she fled to another land and hid her idenity for fear
they would come to collect her and punish her for a crime she had not committed.
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