Sequel: Everlasting ›
Evermore
xiv.
July 11th, 1782 ;
Mary sat at the vanity in her bedchamber which was illuminated in candlelight. The night breeze wafting in from the open window Sarah running the hard bristled brush through the wet locks of Mary’s hair as she looked at herself sadly in the mirror; not looking at herself but passed it.
It was the night before her wedding and Mary felt numb to everything around her.
Since her last letter to Jonathan, Mary felt as if she was drifting through her life in a daze. The excitement she had felt only two months prior ripped away from her so suddenly she was still reeling. The sadness caused such an ache in her chest, Mary did not think she could ever repair her heart against the hurt that Jonathan had inflicted on it.
It only took three days to receive a reply to her dismissal from Jonathan but Mary did not read it because she knew it would devastate her. Whatever excuses he would use to justify the retraction of his proposal would only make matters worse. Mary had sobbed as she ordered her maid to burn the letter and watched as it turned to tinder.
"Mary," Sarah began tenderly, "It will be okay." A gentle hand fell on Mary’s shoulder and squeeze reassuringly before it began to massage it gently.
"What?" Mary asked, jolting out of her thoughts to look at her maid in the mirror.
"You are crying again. You cannot do this to yourself, love. You cannot overlook your feelings to spare your family."
Mary just swiped a hand at her eyes, dashing away the tears but they were quickly replaced with new ones, "I can live through this and eventually my pain will fade."
"But Mary--"
"Please just stop," Mary whispered, her tears cresting to cascade down her pale cheeks. "It is already hard enough without you reminding me of how foolish I was to believe in him." The self-chastisement a mantra she repeated over and over to herself. That her foolishness was the blame for everything, had she just contented herself with her engagement her heart would have never known the feel of complete abandonment.
Sarah ignored the request, “You are my dearest friend, Mary. I will not stand by you and watch you blame yourself for what that fopdoodle had done. You cannot be blamed for any of this, lovely.” Sarah placed the brush beside Mary on the vanity and looked at her friend, “You can still go to the convent and find the peace of mind you have been praying for the last month.”
Mary did not say a word in reply, just stood from the chair and wandered over to her bed where the cover’s had already been turned down. Climbing atop, Mary laid down and allowed Sarah to fold the blankets over her, tucking the edges in ever so gently. Sarah gave her friend a small smile and whispered, "Sometimes the hardest decisions to make are the ones that can be our salvation."
July 12th, 1782 ;
"Oh Mary!" Sophia blubbered, dabbing her crystalline eyes with a handkerchief, "You are such a lovely bride. I always knew you would be." Mary ignored her mother's compliments and praise and continued to look down at her own gloved hands, twining her fingers together and picking at bits of lace and fabric of the gloves. Mary's stomach was in knots as Sarah fiddled with her hair, plucking and tucking stray strands.
"Oh goodness you are much too pale," Harold's mother, Elizabeth announced. Before Mary could swat away the insulting hands, the bony fingers pinched her left cheek several times squeezing the bits of flesh tightly between fat fingers before she repeated the gesture on the right. "Much better! Oh Harold will be so happy to see you. I am sure you will knock him right off his feet."
"Hurry up, Sarah. We must get to the church, I am sure everyone is waiting for us," Sophia snapped at the maid who was weaving in a few springs of small white flowers into the curls.
With a few more tugs, and when the veil was in place, Sarah stepped back and said, "All done, my Ladies,” then with a gentle hand she helped Mary to her feet. The hoop skirt was wide and heavy, swaying with her every movement beneath the cream colored linen and lace. Though the weight of all the metal and fabric was nothing compared to her heavy heart.
"Come now, we must get a move on," Elizabeth urged before lowering the veil over Mary’s face and shooing at her until she began to walk towards the door.
Mary followed diligently, slowly walking out of her bed chamber and descended the stairs to the main level of the home that would no longer be her own once the vows were said. Sarah had been instructed to pack up all of Mary's worldly possessions and have them taken to the home Mary would be sharing with her new husband.
Mary was escorted to the carriage and a footman assisted in helping her step up into the dark, silken confines. The moment she had settled herself onto the padded bench inside, the door close behind her, casting a darkness over the carriage.
She rode alone to the church, staring out the window at the people milling around the street, looking curiously at the carriage as it passed. "You must do this," Mary assured herself aloud, her whispered tone more chastising than promising. "Never would have it worked out with Jonathan. Harold is the smart choice, the best choice for everyone.”
The carriage came to a quick stop and Mary felt it jostle as the footman jumped off his perch to circle the coach. The door swung open, bright light from the outside streaming in and blinding Mary.
Taking the extended hand, she stepped down and stumbled, the skirt of her gown tripping her. Thankfully, the footman was able to steady her before she tumbled to the cobbled stone. She mumbled a quiet appreciation to him before looking at the foreboding sight before her.
The church was just as large against the backdrop of the city as ever, if not more colossal now that she saw it in a different way.
It was her wedding day; a day that was to be filled with joy and happiness only instilled dread into her. How would she bear to look on Harold and accept her vows of love and fidelity when she had given her heart to another? How would she make it through the celebration with a smile on her face or to make it through the responsibilities she knew would be expected of her once the two were alone?
Sophia, as any mother would do the night before the wedding, had explained what was to be expected of Mary on her wedding night. Though as she stood in the shadow of the church she was to be wed in, Mary did not think she could not repeat his vows to her without crying or tolerate the touch of his hands on her skin.
Surely, a groom did not want his new wife to cry during the consecration of their sacred vows.
"Are ya alright, miss?" The footman asked, concern apparent across his features.
"Yes... Yes. I am fine. Thank you," Mary said as she slowly made her way towards the church where two ushers awaited to open the massive wooden doors.
As they drifted open, Mary was hit with the sounds of the wedding march bellowing from the pipes of the organ.
Mary sat at the vanity in her bedchamber which was illuminated in candlelight. The night breeze wafting in from the open window Sarah running the hard bristled brush through the wet locks of Mary’s hair as she looked at herself sadly in the mirror; not looking at herself but passed it.
It was the night before her wedding and Mary felt numb to everything around her.
Since her last letter to Jonathan, Mary felt as if she was drifting through her life in a daze. The excitement she had felt only two months prior ripped away from her so suddenly she was still reeling. The sadness caused such an ache in her chest, Mary did not think she could ever repair her heart against the hurt that Jonathan had inflicted on it.
It only took three days to receive a reply to her dismissal from Jonathan but Mary did not read it because she knew it would devastate her. Whatever excuses he would use to justify the retraction of his proposal would only make matters worse. Mary had sobbed as she ordered her maid to burn the letter and watched as it turned to tinder.
"Mary," Sarah began tenderly, "It will be okay." A gentle hand fell on Mary’s shoulder and squeeze reassuringly before it began to massage it gently.
"What?" Mary asked, jolting out of her thoughts to look at her maid in the mirror.
"You are crying again. You cannot do this to yourself, love. You cannot overlook your feelings to spare your family."
Mary just swiped a hand at her eyes, dashing away the tears but they were quickly replaced with new ones, "I can live through this and eventually my pain will fade."
"But Mary--"
"Please just stop," Mary whispered, her tears cresting to cascade down her pale cheeks. "It is already hard enough without you reminding me of how foolish I was to believe in him." The self-chastisement a mantra she repeated over and over to herself. That her foolishness was the blame for everything, had she just contented herself with her engagement her heart would have never known the feel of complete abandonment.
Sarah ignored the request, “You are my dearest friend, Mary. I will not stand by you and watch you blame yourself for what that fopdoodle had done. You cannot be blamed for any of this, lovely.” Sarah placed the brush beside Mary on the vanity and looked at her friend, “You can still go to the convent and find the peace of mind you have been praying for the last month.”
Mary did not say a word in reply, just stood from the chair and wandered over to her bed where the cover’s had already been turned down. Climbing atop, Mary laid down and allowed Sarah to fold the blankets over her, tucking the edges in ever so gently. Sarah gave her friend a small smile and whispered, "Sometimes the hardest decisions to make are the ones that can be our salvation."
July 12th, 1782 ;
"Oh Mary!" Sophia blubbered, dabbing her crystalline eyes with a handkerchief, "You are such a lovely bride. I always knew you would be." Mary ignored her mother's compliments and praise and continued to look down at her own gloved hands, twining her fingers together and picking at bits of lace and fabric of the gloves. Mary's stomach was in knots as Sarah fiddled with her hair, plucking and tucking stray strands.
"Oh goodness you are much too pale," Harold's mother, Elizabeth announced. Before Mary could swat away the insulting hands, the bony fingers pinched her left cheek several times squeezing the bits of flesh tightly between fat fingers before she repeated the gesture on the right. "Much better! Oh Harold will be so happy to see you. I am sure you will knock him right off his feet."
"Hurry up, Sarah. We must get to the church, I am sure everyone is waiting for us," Sophia snapped at the maid who was weaving in a few springs of small white flowers into the curls.
With a few more tugs, and when the veil was in place, Sarah stepped back and said, "All done, my Ladies,” then with a gentle hand she helped Mary to her feet. The hoop skirt was wide and heavy, swaying with her every movement beneath the cream colored linen and lace. Though the weight of all the metal and fabric was nothing compared to her heavy heart.
"Come now, we must get a move on," Elizabeth urged before lowering the veil over Mary’s face and shooing at her until she began to walk towards the door.
Mary followed diligently, slowly walking out of her bed chamber and descended the stairs to the main level of the home that would no longer be her own once the vows were said. Sarah had been instructed to pack up all of Mary's worldly possessions and have them taken to the home Mary would be sharing with her new husband.
Mary was escorted to the carriage and a footman assisted in helping her step up into the dark, silken confines. The moment she had settled herself onto the padded bench inside, the door close behind her, casting a darkness over the carriage.
She rode alone to the church, staring out the window at the people milling around the street, looking curiously at the carriage as it passed. "You must do this," Mary assured herself aloud, her whispered tone more chastising than promising. "Never would have it worked out with Jonathan. Harold is the smart choice, the best choice for everyone.”
The carriage came to a quick stop and Mary felt it jostle as the footman jumped off his perch to circle the coach. The door swung open, bright light from the outside streaming in and blinding Mary.
Taking the extended hand, she stepped down and stumbled, the skirt of her gown tripping her. Thankfully, the footman was able to steady her before she tumbled to the cobbled stone. She mumbled a quiet appreciation to him before looking at the foreboding sight before her.
The church was just as large against the backdrop of the city as ever, if not more colossal now that she saw it in a different way.
It was her wedding day; a day that was to be filled with joy and happiness only instilled dread into her. How would she bear to look on Harold and accept her vows of love and fidelity when she had given her heart to another? How would she make it through the celebration with a smile on her face or to make it through the responsibilities she knew would be expected of her once the two were alone?
Sophia, as any mother would do the night before the wedding, had explained what was to be expected of Mary on her wedding night. Though as she stood in the shadow of the church she was to be wed in, Mary did not think she could not repeat his vows to her without crying or tolerate the touch of his hands on her skin.
Surely, a groom did not want his new wife to cry during the consecration of their sacred vows.
"Are ya alright, miss?" The footman asked, concern apparent across his features.
"Yes... Yes. I am fine. Thank you," Mary said as she slowly made her way towards the church where two ushers awaited to open the massive wooden doors.
As they drifted open, Mary was hit with the sounds of the wedding march bellowing from the pipes of the organ.