‹ Prequel: Evermore
Everlasting
ii.
June 28th. 1783 ;
November 5th, 1784
Mary Lynn sat on a bench in the vast gardens of Waverly Place, her thin fingers working diligently on a needlepoint as her two stepsons ran about, chasing and shouting over one another.
“Mother!” Nathaniel cried as he ran up to her; his brown curls tousled, his cheeks flush with exertion as he tossed himself at her so dramatically she almost dropped her work on the ground. “Alexander is not playing fair, tell him it is my turn to be the winner.”
“I am so being fair!” the elder yelled angrily, his crystalline eyes-- so much like his father's-- burning passionate in his defense. “You are being a baby Nathaniel, and babies do not deserve to win.”
“You mustn't be cruel to your brother, Alexander,” Mary chided gently before turning to the younger of the two. Mary smiled at the boy, using a hand to brush the locks of wild hair from his face as she set down her needle and loom, “and you must win on your own, love.”
“But he is bigger and faster and it is impossible!” the boy whined, his hands moving around enthusiastically to elaborate his point.
She tasked Nathaniel before wrapping her arms around his narrow waist to haul him atop her lap, situating him comfortably above the many layers of her gown. “Your father would be none too happy with your retreat. He would wish for you to go on until you could not anymore. Regardless of victory or defeat. He would want you to be honorable in defeat and humble in victory. You wish to make your Papa proud, yes?”
The boy nodded, so enthusiastically he almost toppled himself from her lap, causing Mary to chuckle as he replied, “More than anything in the world.”
“Then you will go and finish playing with your brother and if you lose again, you will not whine; you will try again until you are victorious.”
The boy nodded again, this time more solemn, “When is Papa returning home? Alexander and I miss him and he told me before he left for the city that when he returned, he would let me hold his saber.”
Mary looked to Alexander then, he looked quietly on his stepmother and younger brother, looking anxiously for the answer to the question that had been asked. Mary sighed as sadness gripped her, “I miss him too, lovelies. Hopefully we shall receive a letter soon telling us when he will be departing London.”
“Do you think he will bring us presents?” Alexander asked as he drew closer to sit next to Mary on the stone bench.
Mary smiled at both boys before giving the littlest a pinch on his side until he squealed with laughter, “I am sure of it. Now, if you boys are done playing I am sure your governess would wish to work on your lessons.”
The boys looked to one another before back to Mary, “If we finish our lessons before supper could we play some more?”
“Perhaps, we will see how you both behave during your lessons. Now off with you two!” Mary laughed as Nathaniel jumped from his perch on her lap and took off in a mad dash for the estate, side by side with his elder brother.
Mary felt as if the love in her heart was overflowing watching the two boys-- who looked so very much like their father-- run off. She loved the boys as much as she loved to breath, she had since the very beginning.
At her first arrival they were shy and standoffish of their new stepmother; their behaviors only ghosts of their normal selves. Mary had been distraught, even as Jonathan consoled her that they were just adjusting, trying to find their footing in unfamiliar territory so Mary had been patient.
She inquired after them often, played swords and bandits with them-- much to her husband's chagrin-- and even gave them extra helpings of pudding on the days they were mostly behaved. It had not taken long for her stepsons to insist on calling her mother and Mary had been elated.
Then winter came, Christmas bringing bringing family from far and wide including her own. The holidays had been filled with long days entertaining her mother and sister as well as her mother-in-law and sister-in-law; both of whom did not seem to care that the Earl had married much below his station. There were also parts that the couple and the children attended as a family and get together with other Lords and Ladies. The nights were calmer, her attention shifting to entertaining only her husband; a husband who seemed very much enjoy his marital rights.
Even after a year of marriage they thought brought a blush to her pale cheeks. Mary was always told that the act of sex was lackluster and painful, a necessary evil in the world, but Jonathan had put those rumors to shame. Her husband had proven that love in a marriage did make the difference. It had become such a common act between the newly weds that Jonathan had deemed it was not prudent for Mary to have her own bed-chamber. Two months into marriage all her belongings had been moved into her husband's room.
Jonathan had left not long after the move; the moment the roads dried up from the melted winter snow. Mary could not begrudge him the absence because he was due for his first visit of the season and Mary could hardly contain her own enthusiasm.
She missed her husband; the scent of him after a fresh shave, the feel of his arms encircling her as they slept, of the hours they spent intertwined in a sprawl of skin and limbs. And while Mary knew his visit would only be for a few weeks she would savor every moment with her husband.
Deciding that she would not be able to focus any longer on her pattern, Mary picked up the needle and loom and stood, heading in the direction the two boys had run in towards the estate.
November 5th, 1784
Mary Lynn sat on a bench in the vast gardens of Waverly Place, her thin fingers working diligently on a needlepoint as her two stepsons ran about, chasing and shouting over one another.
“Mother!” Nathaniel cried as he ran up to her; his brown curls tousled, his cheeks flush with exertion as he tossed himself at her so dramatically she almost dropped her work on the ground. “Alexander is not playing fair, tell him it is my turn to be the winner.”
“I am so being fair!” the elder yelled angrily, his crystalline eyes-- so much like his father's-- burning passionate in his defense. “You are being a baby Nathaniel, and babies do not deserve to win.”
“You mustn't be cruel to your brother, Alexander,” Mary chided gently before turning to the younger of the two. Mary smiled at the boy, using a hand to brush the locks of wild hair from his face as she set down her needle and loom, “and you must win on your own, love.”
“But he is bigger and faster and it is impossible!” the boy whined, his hands moving around enthusiastically to elaborate his point.
She tasked Nathaniel before wrapping her arms around his narrow waist to haul him atop her lap, situating him comfortably above the many layers of her gown. “Your father would be none too happy with your retreat. He would wish for you to go on until you could not anymore. Regardless of victory or defeat. He would want you to be honorable in defeat and humble in victory. You wish to make your Papa proud, yes?”
The boy nodded, so enthusiastically he almost toppled himself from her lap, causing Mary to chuckle as he replied, “More than anything in the world.”
“Then you will go and finish playing with your brother and if you lose again, you will not whine; you will try again until you are victorious.”
The boy nodded again, this time more solemn, “When is Papa returning home? Alexander and I miss him and he told me before he left for the city that when he returned, he would let me hold his saber.”
Mary looked to Alexander then, he looked quietly on his stepmother and younger brother, looking anxiously for the answer to the question that had been asked. Mary sighed as sadness gripped her, “I miss him too, lovelies. Hopefully we shall receive a letter soon telling us when he will be departing London.”
“Do you think he will bring us presents?” Alexander asked as he drew closer to sit next to Mary on the stone bench.
Mary smiled at both boys before giving the littlest a pinch on his side until he squealed with laughter, “I am sure of it. Now, if you boys are done playing I am sure your governess would wish to work on your lessons.”
The boys looked to one another before back to Mary, “If we finish our lessons before supper could we play some more?”
“Perhaps, we will see how you both behave during your lessons. Now off with you two!” Mary laughed as Nathaniel jumped from his perch on her lap and took off in a mad dash for the estate, side by side with his elder brother.
Mary felt as if the love in her heart was overflowing watching the two boys-- who looked so very much like their father-- run off. She loved the boys as much as she loved to breath, she had since the very beginning.
At her first arrival they were shy and standoffish of their new stepmother; their behaviors only ghosts of their normal selves. Mary had been distraught, even as Jonathan consoled her that they were just adjusting, trying to find their footing in unfamiliar territory so Mary had been patient.
She inquired after them often, played swords and bandits with them-- much to her husband's chagrin-- and even gave them extra helpings of pudding on the days they were mostly behaved. It had not taken long for her stepsons to insist on calling her mother and Mary had been elated.
Then winter came, Christmas bringing bringing family from far and wide including her own. The holidays had been filled with long days entertaining her mother and sister as well as her mother-in-law and sister-in-law; both of whom did not seem to care that the Earl had married much below his station. There were also parts that the couple and the children attended as a family and get together with other Lords and Ladies. The nights were calmer, her attention shifting to entertaining only her husband; a husband who seemed very much enjoy his marital rights.
Even after a year of marriage they thought brought a blush to her pale cheeks. Mary was always told that the act of sex was lackluster and painful, a necessary evil in the world, but Jonathan had put those rumors to shame. Her husband had proven that love in a marriage did make the difference. It had become such a common act between the newly weds that Jonathan had deemed it was not prudent for Mary to have her own bed-chamber. Two months into marriage all her belongings had been moved into her husband's room.
Jonathan had left not long after the move; the moment the roads dried up from the melted winter snow. Mary could not begrudge him the absence because he was due for his first visit of the season and Mary could hardly contain her own enthusiasm.
She missed her husband; the scent of him after a fresh shave, the feel of his arms encircling her as they slept, of the hours they spent intertwined in a sprawl of skin and limbs. And while Mary knew his visit would only be for a few weeks she would savor every moment with her husband.
Deciding that she would not be able to focus any longer on her pattern, Mary picked up the needle and loom and stood, heading in the direction the two boys had run in towards the estate.