Sequel: Everlasting ›
Evermore
iii.
October 3rd, 1781 ;
“It’s not fair,” Mary complained as she walked side by side with her maid; they were walking to the bakers to fetch a loaf of bread for supper. Mary tagging along to speak in private with her companion. “Why must women be forced to marry?”
“You are hardly being force,” Sarah pointed out, her usual quiet demeanor gone in the presence of a friend.
Mary rolled her eyes, “I was not given the option. My mother and father did not ask me if I wished to marry Harold. They informed me that we were arranged to marry.”
“Why did you not decline his proposal if you felt so strongly against this marriage? Surely he would not want an unwilling bride.”
“Mother and Father demand me to marry him. I am the only one who is able. Elizabeth is already married and Phoebe is only ten; it will be years before she is ready for marriage. Mother and Mrs. Arnold have been devising this betrothal since I was but ten and three.” Mary sighed loudly, a sound that her mother always reprimanded her for. “I cannot dishonor them so. It is my duty to marry as well as I can.”
Sarah suddenly butted in, “Mr. Arnold is very handsome and he seems fond of you.”
Mary scoffed, “Hardly fond. He had settled with me for bride and while he will not admit it I know he too is not happy about an arranged betrothal.”
“It will be a good arrangement for you,” Sarah consoled as they rounded the corner, looking over at her friend. “I am sure he knows it too.”
“I am sure yo-,” Mary’s words were cut off with a loud ‘oomph’ as a little boy slammed into her, flailing about in her skirts as she tumbled backwards to the ground. The urchin quickly rolled off of Mary and to his feet, scampering away just as quickly as he had made his appearance.
Her world seemed to slow down at she heard the heavy wheels and angry hooves barreling towards her. There were shrilled screams as her maid yelled at the cart. Mary swore her life was going to come to an end and she scrunched her eyes closed, not wanting to see her own death.
“Oh Dear Lord Mary!” Susan cried as her hands grabbed at Mary, clasping her arms and trying to pull her mistress upright.
Mary opened her eyes and stared fearfully up at Susan—her mind reeling and promising she would send extra prayers and thanks to the Lord above. “I-I am alive?”
“Yes. Thank the Lord, Mary!” Susan squalled as the man driving the cart jumped down from his perch, spewing apologies and self-reprimands. Never had Mary see such a furious look contort her maid’s face, as she turned to the carriage driver with the wrath of the gods. “You should be sorry, you cod headed imbecile! What in the devil were you thinking, driving a carriage in that manner? You almost killed Miss Suters!”
“I am sorry, Miss. I did not… the horses got spooked.”
“You buffle-headed, cobcock! Your master should dismiss you if you are so inept as to keep care of a few horses!” Sarah screamed at the man, hurling insults the light of day should have ever heard from the normally peaceful maid. Sarah shrilled even as she assisted Mary to her feet, holding to her tight as words of anger spilled from her.
As Mary stood, dumbfounded staring at her normally meek maid and the admonished cart driver even as the cart of the carriage finally drifted open and a man stepped from the confines. Mary stood quiet even as the finely dressed man circled the carriage, “What is the commotion, Tom?”
“I will tell you what is wrong. This bracket-faced, sapscull nearly killed my mistress and you are just as dimwitted, you prig. Hiring such an incompetent fool!”
Immediately the cart driver began to stutter, his once apologetic behavior turning to disbelief. “You cannot talk Lord Scarbourgh like that, you yammering ninny!”
At the insult, Sarah continued to yell, hurling insult after insult without care for the ever growing crowd of on lookers. The man—Lord Scarbourgh’s face tightened, impatience painting his rough features, “Both of you, silence.” Immediately, both man and woman quieted, their attention on the man who had just demanded their order. “Tom, stop bickering with the twat and explain to me how you managed to rile up the viper.”
“The girl fell in front of the carriage just as I turned the corner, my lord. I had but a moment to stop the cart otherwise I would have killed her,” Tom explained quickly, the jowls on his neck and the fat of his pot-belly jiggling about as he moved his arms animatedly. “Then this agtail came at me full roar!”
“Are you well,” Lord Scarbourgh suddenly asked Mary. It was then she realized she had been blatantly staring at him the entire time her maid and his carriage driver verbally brawled. She had been taking in his features, her eyes eating up the solid lines of his face, the tinkling of his sapphire eyes. “Miss? Did you hit your head?”
“Oh… No,” Mary denied suddenly, her face flaming in embarrassment. “I am just dazed is all.”
The man nodded in acknowledgement of her words, “Very well, I am glad you are well but we must be going. We are in much of a hurry.”
Mary had to physically shush her maid as the woman began another tangent, her brown eyes suddenly meeting his, holding his gaze as she said, “I am sorry, My Lord, for my maid’s tongue. She is just very upset. Have a lovely afternoon.”
As the two men loaded back into the carriage, Mary watched as the cart pulled away and Susan fussed at her, swiping at the dirt and winkles now covering her dress.
“It’s not fair,” Mary complained as she walked side by side with her maid; they were walking to the bakers to fetch a loaf of bread for supper. Mary tagging along to speak in private with her companion. “Why must women be forced to marry?”
“You are hardly being force,” Sarah pointed out, her usual quiet demeanor gone in the presence of a friend.
Mary rolled her eyes, “I was not given the option. My mother and father did not ask me if I wished to marry Harold. They informed me that we were arranged to marry.”
“Why did you not decline his proposal if you felt so strongly against this marriage? Surely he would not want an unwilling bride.”
“Mother and Father demand me to marry him. I am the only one who is able. Elizabeth is already married and Phoebe is only ten; it will be years before she is ready for marriage. Mother and Mrs. Arnold have been devising this betrothal since I was but ten and three.” Mary sighed loudly, a sound that her mother always reprimanded her for. “I cannot dishonor them so. It is my duty to marry as well as I can.”
Sarah suddenly butted in, “Mr. Arnold is very handsome and he seems fond of you.”
Mary scoffed, “Hardly fond. He had settled with me for bride and while he will not admit it I know he too is not happy about an arranged betrothal.”
“It will be a good arrangement for you,” Sarah consoled as they rounded the corner, looking over at her friend. “I am sure he knows it too.”
“I am sure yo-,” Mary’s words were cut off with a loud ‘oomph’ as a little boy slammed into her, flailing about in her skirts as she tumbled backwards to the ground. The urchin quickly rolled off of Mary and to his feet, scampering away just as quickly as he had made his appearance.
Her world seemed to slow down at she heard the heavy wheels and angry hooves barreling towards her. There were shrilled screams as her maid yelled at the cart. Mary swore her life was going to come to an end and she scrunched her eyes closed, not wanting to see her own death.
“Oh Dear Lord Mary!” Susan cried as her hands grabbed at Mary, clasping her arms and trying to pull her mistress upright.
Mary opened her eyes and stared fearfully up at Susan—her mind reeling and promising she would send extra prayers and thanks to the Lord above. “I-I am alive?”
“Yes. Thank the Lord, Mary!” Susan squalled as the man driving the cart jumped down from his perch, spewing apologies and self-reprimands. Never had Mary see such a furious look contort her maid’s face, as she turned to the carriage driver with the wrath of the gods. “You should be sorry, you cod headed imbecile! What in the devil were you thinking, driving a carriage in that manner? You almost killed Miss Suters!”
“I am sorry, Miss. I did not… the horses got spooked.”
“You buffle-headed, cobcock! Your master should dismiss you if you are so inept as to keep care of a few horses!” Sarah screamed at the man, hurling insults the light of day should have ever heard from the normally peaceful maid. Sarah shrilled even as she assisted Mary to her feet, holding to her tight as words of anger spilled from her.
As Mary stood, dumbfounded staring at her normally meek maid and the admonished cart driver even as the cart of the carriage finally drifted open and a man stepped from the confines. Mary stood quiet even as the finely dressed man circled the carriage, “What is the commotion, Tom?”
“I will tell you what is wrong. This bracket-faced, sapscull nearly killed my mistress and you are just as dimwitted, you prig. Hiring such an incompetent fool!”
Immediately the cart driver began to stutter, his once apologetic behavior turning to disbelief. “You cannot talk Lord Scarbourgh like that, you yammering ninny!”
At the insult, Sarah continued to yell, hurling insult after insult without care for the ever growing crowd of on lookers. The man—Lord Scarbourgh’s face tightened, impatience painting his rough features, “Both of you, silence.” Immediately, both man and woman quieted, their attention on the man who had just demanded their order. “Tom, stop bickering with the twat and explain to me how you managed to rile up the viper.”
“The girl fell in front of the carriage just as I turned the corner, my lord. I had but a moment to stop the cart otherwise I would have killed her,” Tom explained quickly, the jowls on his neck and the fat of his pot-belly jiggling about as he moved his arms animatedly. “Then this agtail came at me full roar!”
“Are you well,” Lord Scarbourgh suddenly asked Mary. It was then she realized she had been blatantly staring at him the entire time her maid and his carriage driver verbally brawled. She had been taking in his features, her eyes eating up the solid lines of his face, the tinkling of his sapphire eyes. “Miss? Did you hit your head?”
“Oh… No,” Mary denied suddenly, her face flaming in embarrassment. “I am just dazed is all.”
The man nodded in acknowledgement of her words, “Very well, I am glad you are well but we must be going. We are in much of a hurry.”
Mary had to physically shush her maid as the woman began another tangent, her brown eyes suddenly meeting his, holding his gaze as she said, “I am sorry, My Lord, for my maid’s tongue. She is just very upset. Have a lovely afternoon.”
As the two men loaded back into the carriage, Mary watched as the cart pulled away and Susan fussed at her, swiping at the dirt and winkles now covering her dress.