Sequel: Everlasting ›
Evermore
i.
July 12th, 1782 ;
Mary Lynn ran faster than she ever had in her life; fleeing from invisible demons as if they were nipping at her heels. Her breaths heaving in and out as best as her lungs could manage in the constricting confines of her corseted bosom. She held the skirts of her elaborate lace and silk dress in her hands, the hem lifted well above her ankles as her legs pumped quickly, carrying her through the streets of Birmingham.
Shoving past a group of passersby’s, Mary muttered an inaudible apology over her shoulder. She cared naught for the looks of confusion and contempt she was receiving from everyone she passed, she had to put as much distance between herself and that chapel as possible.
Mary had jilted her groom.
In front of the priest who had baptized her as a babe, in front of both of their families and friends. Half of England would know of it by weeks’ end. Mary knew she should feel guilty for her betrayal but she felt nothing but freedom as she ran through the muddy streets, heading due north. She felt as if she could run all the way to Sheffield and she would if she had too. Mary would do anything to be free from her almost husband; from the unseverable bonds of marriage. She now understood why men equated the sacred bonds to prison. Even just standing before her groom and all the people they knew, she had felt the walls closing in on her.
Gradually, Mary found herself slowing involuntarily, her body refusing to press on any faster or longer. Stopping, she braced one hand against her stomach as she gasped for breaths, her eyes darting around for a place to rest. Her gaze not finding anything but knew she had to submit to her exhaustion, at least long enough to get her bearings. Collapsing on the ground, Mary Lynn did not care how unladylike it was to sit on the ground in her extravagant wedding dress or how people looked at her as if she was a horned troll.
Sitting in silence, Mary Lynn pondered her life until now and could not believe how far she let it spin out of her control.
Mary Lynn ran faster than she ever had in her life; fleeing from invisible demons as if they were nipping at her heels. Her breaths heaving in and out as best as her lungs could manage in the constricting confines of her corseted bosom. She held the skirts of her elaborate lace and silk dress in her hands, the hem lifted well above her ankles as her legs pumped quickly, carrying her through the streets of Birmingham.
Shoving past a group of passersby’s, Mary muttered an inaudible apology over her shoulder. She cared naught for the looks of confusion and contempt she was receiving from everyone she passed, she had to put as much distance between herself and that chapel as possible.
Mary had jilted her groom.
In front of the priest who had baptized her as a babe, in front of both of their families and friends. Half of England would know of it by weeks’ end. Mary knew she should feel guilty for her betrayal but she felt nothing but freedom as she ran through the muddy streets, heading due north. She felt as if she could run all the way to Sheffield and she would if she had too. Mary would do anything to be free from her almost husband; from the unseverable bonds of marriage. She now understood why men equated the sacred bonds to prison. Even just standing before her groom and all the people they knew, she had felt the walls closing in on her.
Gradually, Mary found herself slowing involuntarily, her body refusing to press on any faster or longer. Stopping, she braced one hand against her stomach as she gasped for breaths, her eyes darting around for a place to rest. Her gaze not finding anything but knew she had to submit to her exhaustion, at least long enough to get her bearings. Collapsing on the ground, Mary Lynn did not care how unladylike it was to sit on the ground in her extravagant wedding dress or how people looked at her as if she was a horned troll.
Sitting in silence, Mary Lynn pondered her life until now and could not believe how far she let it spin out of her control.