Why Does She Haunt My Dreams

She is new, this servant girl, a wench, who should mean nothing I am the lord of the manor. Anyway, someday I will be. Not yet, for I am but sixteen. What is her name? I wonder, straining to hear it. Beyond the kitchen I hear a name, but barely. Not strong enough to make it out. Dare I enter the kitchen? It is never done. I am too high brow to be welcome in there. She comes through with a plate of croissants. Smiles prettily, making me angry for some weird reason. Why does she haunt my dreams? This common beauty? I want to ask her name, but dare not. It is not done. Lord of the manor, but not lord of my words? I glower at the croissants. How dare they bring my dream into fruition.