by Dalia Wright
“If you’re only going to be here for a little while then you’d best experience the most amazing parts of the English world,” Dylan said as they made their way into the house. “Maybe tomorrow we can do some sightseeing.”
Sarah stopped in the doorway, seeing Jen on the couch.
“Hey.”
Jen gave her a nod. “Hey. Your boyfriend has been calling for you, it seems like he’s really worried.”
“Oh.”
Sarah felt guilt tug at her stomach. Jen looked from Sarah to Dylan, as is being able to see right through them.
“I… I’m going to go call John.” Sarah said, not wanting to face Jen at the moment.
She made her way into the kitchen and to the phone.
“What did you do?” She heard Jen hiss.
“Don’t get mad please… but…” She didn’t hear the end of Dylan’s sentence. She tried, even though she knew it was wrong. But she didn’t hear him, so she reached for the phone and dialed John’s number.
It rang once before someone picked up. “Sarah?” John sounded desperate.
“Jah.”
“I was so worried. I…” He fell silent.
Sarah waited for him to say something. Finally, after thirty seconds she cleared her throat.
“There was something you wanted to tell me?”
“Yes,” He cleared his throat. “I… I’m not going back.”
Sarah shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was. She felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach.
“I see.”
She tried not to sound as hurt as she felt. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t be marrying her, it was that he had been her best friend for all her life, and he was leaving.
“I-”
“Have you told anyone else?”
“No. I just wanted to tell you, so that you can go back. I know you never wanted… this.”
Nee. She didn’t want to leave. Jen and Dylan… despite the fact that they’d only known each other a little while she would miss them. They had become friends to her and she didn’t want to lose that.
“I’m sorry, Sarah… I never meant-”
“I know,” She cut him off. “I understand… I’m not mad.”
And the strange part is that she wasn’t. She wasn’t mad at him at all for what he would be doing to her. He was sending her home without any sign of a feature. Maybe I should stay here. She thought.
“I’d like to see you before you leave… if you want to see me.” He sounded ashamed.
“Of course I’d like to see you,” A smile touched her lips.
They spoke for a couple more minutes before saying goodbye. Sarah hung up and walked into the living room. Jen and Dylan looked up from each other’s gaze quickly, their cheeks going a soft shade of pink.
“Is everything alright?” Jen asked.
“Jah,” Sarah didn’t bother trying to hold the tears back. Why am I even crying? “Just… John won’t be coming home… at all.”
Dylan jumped to his feet, and rushed over to her. His arms wrapped around her.
“It’s okay,” He whispered. “it’ll all be okay.”
He pulled away from her after a couple of seconds. Sarah whipped her tears away and faced her new friends.
“I… I was going to stay a little longer. I’m not ready to face my family and go back home.”
Jen turned to look at Dylan. “Speaking of back home.” She raised an eyebrow.
Dylan blushed.
No one said anything.
“Well, are you going to tell her or not?” Jen prodded.
“What? Tell me what?” Sarah didn’t want secrets. She didn’t want anyone else to keep things from her.
“Well now that I’m on the spot I’d better,” He muttered. Dylan took a deep breath. “I was thinking… that maybe when you go home….” He paused. Sarah waited, her heart racing. What was he going to say? “I could go with you. Just for a visit of course.” He added the last part quickly.
Jen looked less than pleased.
“You don’t think he should?” Sarah raised an eyebrow as she padded over to the seat she’d sat in last night.
“I think…” Jen shook her head. “I think he’s my best friend and I don’t want to see him jump into anything crazy, but you’re both adults and I can’t stop you- plus I like you. Much better than any of the girls he’s ever had a crush on before now.”
Dylan’s entire face turned a deep shade of pink. “Let’s just eat, we can… talk more later.”
Three months later
Things had moved fast, and Dylan had been the one who wanted them to move that fast and now here they were. Sarah’s parents had been more than happy to take him in, after all they’d expected to have a large family so they had a spare room.
Sarah’s mother was more than happy when she came home and told them that she’d found love from an English man. Her entire family was supportive, the entire community was- even when Sarah had gotten a cell phone, though she tried to hide it from as many people as she could everyone knew it was happening. They turned a blind eye, and when Sarah and Dylan planned for his first visit to the community everyone greeted him with open arms- Even John’s family.
John hadn’t been home, except to tell everyone that he wouldn’t be coming back for good. He did promise to come visit.
“Morning,” Sarah gave her future husband a smile as she poured him a cup of tea. He took her from her, pulling her into a soft hug, and quickly letting go. He was still getting used to the lifestyle change but the men had welcomed him quickly, and the women were happy to help in any way they could. Though Eve Johnson had taken too much of a liking to him when he first came here.
These days Dylan was outside before Sarah was even dressed. He said he enjoyed the hard work and the good night’s sleep.
“I’ve struggled with sleeping all my life,” He gave a sheepish grin. “Since I’ve been here I’ve been sleeping like a baby- er,” He paused, glancing at Sarah. “Bobli.” He corrected himself.
Sarah smiled proudly, giving him a single nod.
“What’s on the agenda for the day?” He asked.
“I’ve got to help meamm with some baby preparations Emma. I didn’t have time to weed the garden yesterday so I’ve got to catch up on that, after that I was going to try and get a dent in that wardrobe of your.”
“Would’ya like me to get started on the garden for you?”
“Nee, but danka. I’m sure deatt will put you to work soon enough.” Sarah’s eyes sparkled. Deatt loved having a man around the house to help him with work- although he wouldn’t admit it.
Dylan placed a quick kiss on her cheek, drained his tea cup and handed it back to her before walking back outside.
Meamm cleared her throat. Sarah’s cheeks flushed as she realized her mother had seen them kiss, something she normally tried to keep hidden as much as possible.
“I wanted to show you something.”
“Of course.” Sarah rinsed the mug quickly and followed her mother into her parents’ bedroom. She gasped as she saw what was on the bed.
A wedding dress.
“It was mine when I married your deatt, you should try it on but if it fits I’d be honored to see you wearing it on your wedding day.”
The wedding was still a ways away but there had been talk about it. They both had to be baptized first, and Sarah wanted to give Dylan enough time to make sure that this lifestyle was what he wanted. The men had started talking about cost of a house, and when they would put it up. Harvesting was coming up fast, and after that the community would have more time on their hands. Hopefully enough time to get a small house up before all the baptizing. And then ideally Dylan and I will be married before the new end of the year. She reached out and touched the soft fabric of her mother’s wedding dress.
“You kept it all this time.”
“When I gave birth to a little girl I promised myself that I’d keep this dress so she could be married in it. Marrying your fathe
r is the best thing I ever did, choosing this life… and having you have made me happier than I ever was. Your father and I love each other, deeply and we have been lucky. I hope this dress gives you as much love and happiness- and judging by the way that mann of yours looks at you, you’ve already got that love.”
The End
The Mistress of Black Grove Manor
By: Elaine Young
Chapter One
58 Harrogate Road is home to Mrs. Wharton’s Ladies Residence. A far too elegant name for a tumbledown boarding house on the lower East side of London. The London Society for Improving the Condition of the Laboring Classes had thrice visited and usually found it up to code. For three shillings a week, a woman could find a place to lay her head.
There were four bedrooms and an attic for let. The rooms were small, each holding two to three beds with straw mattresses. Each room had a window that let in a thick, heavy breeze laden with soot and city scents. Even so, the women ran washing lines from one side of the room to the other. The landlady, Mrs. Wharton, was a robust middle-aged widower with a heart as large as her waistline.
The girls at Mrs. Wharton’s Ladies Residence were eagerly anticipating the postman’s arrival. Gathered in the sitting room were Imogen Nelson and Rebecca Sewell. It was rare to see these two parted. Imogen was artistic and bookish preferring her own company to that of others. She came from the Canfield Abbey and was still adjusting to life in London. Rebecca was the polar opposite, she was a wonderment of energy and utterly fearless. Her red hair suited her. The girls had become thick as thieves upon becoming flat mates.
“I see him,” cried out Rebecca, “He’s rounding the corner by the butcher.” Her copper curls bounced across her shoulders as she hurried to the front door. Imogen was close behind, “We shouldn’t run. We will frighten the poor man.”
A knock on the door brought them to attention. Rebecca’s hand was immediately slapped away by Mrs. Wharton before she could reach the handle.
“Ladies of substance are never to answer the door. We have had this discussion several times, Rebecca, and yet here you stand ready to throw open the latch on the first knock.”
Rebecca lowered her head, “Yes Mum, we have.” Her eye caught Imogen’s, a sly smile crept up her cheek.
A second knock on the door interrupted Mrs. Wharton. “Good Lord,” she spun around and unlatched the door. “Are you without a modicum of patience sir?”
The postman unfazed by her harsh tone and solemn features tipped his hat and handed her a packet of letters.
“Good day Mum,” he winked at Rebecca before turning towards the street, “and ladies.”
The girls were close behind Mrs. Wharton as she moved to the drawing room and took a seat in an overstuffed chair in front of the lace-curtained window. She often commented on how the light in this room was most forgiving to one’s complexion. The girls sat quietly on the settee as Mrs. Wharton shuffled through the post stopping on a large manila envelope. She opened it and skimmed its contents. After what seemed like an eternity to the impatient girls, Mrs. Wharton looked up.
“Mum?” Rebecca had been waiting for the postman all week, now her excitement was turning to worry.
“There is nothing for you Rebecca,” she paused. “I need to speak with Imogen.” Rebecca was surprised by Mrs. Wharton’s flat tone.
“But I was…I’ve been waiting…”
Mrs. Wharton walked to the door of the drawing-room, “Rebecca, you would serve yourself well by closing your jaw before you trip over it.” With an indignant sigh, a very confused Rebecca exited the drawing room. Imogen wasn’t sure what was more confusing to her, the fact that there was nothing for Rebecca, who normally received a least three invitations a week or Mrs. Wharton’s ominous tone.
“A letter has arrived for you. It is from Hill and Hollow Law Offices.”
“Hill and Hollow?”
“Hush child,” Mrs. Wharton cautioned as she pulled down her reading glasses and examined the letter in her hand. “Give me a tick to gather my thoughts.” After some minutes, Mrs. Wharton placed her glasses on top of the papers on her lap.
“I’m going to explain this to you as best I can.” She cleared her throat before continuing, “You will be leaving us…”
“Leaving…? Mrs. Wharton stopped her mid-sentence.
“Tut…tut, let me explain the matter first, according to the solicitor, you are being sent to stay with your benefactor, Sir Jonathon Braywick of Black Grove.”
“Sent away?” she spat out the words as if they had stung her tongue.
“Imogen, I appreciate this news is rather shocking, but I must insist you allow me to explain your situation. It seems that you have come into an inheritance. However, a codicil of the will states you are unable to take possession until you turn twenty-one. This letter is addressed to you directly,” Mrs. Wharton handed a letter to the stunned Imogen.
“A solicitor, Mr. Ellcroft, has indicated that he will visit us tomorrow for tea. I am confident that he will be able to answer all your questions. Don’t worry dear, we will get this sorted.” With a rustle of silk, Mrs. Wharton left Imogen to read her letter in private. She pulled up the wax seal on the envelope and unfolded its contents.
Dearest Imogen,
It is with great anticipation that I look forward to your arrival.
I trust that the Hill and Hollow solicitors have been able to settle any hesitations or concerns you may have had in this matter.
With Sincere Regard
Jonathon Braywick
Imogen slid the letter back into its sheath. Her mind was racing in a hundred different directions. Inheritance? Who is Sir Jonathon Braywick? None of it made any sense to her. She had grown up in a rural parsonage with her Aunt Nora, who was Nanny to the Vicar of Canfield’s children.
This letter was going to change everything. Tucking it into her pocket, she made her way out of the drawing room into an onslaught of questions from Rebecca.
“Imogen, are you alright? You are pale as a ghost.”
“I’m fine Becky, thank you.”
As much as she wanted to run up to her cramped attic room and hide, Imogen knew it was best to face it now, or Rebecca would be nattering at her all evening. She enjoyed her cloistered attic existence, choosing not to entangle herself in the drama of a boarding house full of young women. Rebecca, however, was the single exception to that rule with her flaming hair and ready smile, she could charm even the weariest of people. With her hand in Rebecca’s, Imogen followed outside to the back garden.
“You are not fine in the least madam; now tell me the news.”
“The news is beyond dreadful.”
Imogen felt her face flush and throat tighten. The shock was beginning to settle in. The garden walls closing in on her with each breath.
“I don’t know where to start,” began Imogen, “it’s all so strange.”
“How about we start at the beginning. That’s always a good place.”
Imogen reached in her pocket and handed Rebecca the letter. “I’m being sent to live with this person.” Rebecca opened it with great interest and read its contents.
“What? Leaving us?” Rebecca could feel Imogen tighten up. “I’m so sorry love, I’m thinking of myself, and you must be frightened to the bone,” she draped her arm around Imogen’s shoulders. It was an unexpected yet appreciated gesture as she was feeling very alone and anxious.
“I need to rest and reconcile this. Becky can you let Mrs. Wharton know I won’t be having dinner.”
“Are you sure? Something warm in your belly will help you sleep better. My mother always said, ‘full belly = empty mind.’ You can’t worry on a full stomach.”
“It is a lovely notion Becky, and as much as I would relish having a quiet mind this evening, I don’t think my thoughts will be chased away by Mrs. Wharton’s beef stew.”
“Why not? It chases the rats away.”
The seriousness of the occasion was subdued with giggles.
&
nbsp; “Becky you must promise to keep this a secret. I hardly know myself what is happening, I can’t bear the whole house speculating.”
“Of course Gennie, of course,” Becky smiled, “Your secret is safe.”
Even though the promise was made, Imogen knew it would be impossible for Rebecca to keep a secret this salacious. Imogen returned to the rooming house and walked past the hens gathered in the drawing room. She could feel their eyes on her. As her foot hit the first step on the stairs, she knew they would all be clucking about her letter and Sir Jonathon Braywick before she reached the top of the landing.
Chapter Two
Mrs. Wharton and Imogen were anxiously awaiting the arrival of Mr. Ellcroft from the Hill and Hollow law offices. Beyond the ticking of the stately grandfather clock, they could hear the whispers of girls milling about outside the door. With two abrupt claps of her hands and a stern warning, the girls skittered away.
“Please try to excuse the girls Imogen dear, there hasn’t been this much excitement since…well…since I can’t remember.” She took a sip of her tea.
“Mrs. Wharton I don’t understand what is happening.”
“Neither do I,” she wanted to assure and comfort Imogen however she hadn’t the understanding or inclination to do so.
“All we can do is wait I’m afraid.”
The two women sat in silence, neither knowing what to say to the other. The ticking of the clock getting louder as each moment dragged on. Respite from their awkward silence came with a knock on the door. It was Rebecca, “He’s here Mum, shall I have him come in?”
“Well of course, what are you waiting for?” Mrs. Wharton snapped.
The door widened, and Mr. Ellcroft entered the drawing room. He was a short, corpulent man dressed in a brown tweed suit, striped waistcoat with a velvet homburg that he immediately swept off his head. It was evident he was a man that had little to no experience with labor.
“Good afternoon ladies,” his voice was tinny and punctuated with the crisp dialect of the upper classes. “I trust I find you both in good health.”
