A/N: This is quite a slow chapter! It is mainly here to establish the main lady, Lillian Covington. Things are sure to pick up in the next chapter. Enjoy!
It was just another day. Another day in the seamless routine that was life in Columbia. Everybody did what they were supposed to. And why shouldn't they? For the upperclass, life in Columbia was perfection. But there was one young lady who was fit to burst with frustration and anger.
"I'm hoping they will expand the borders slightly so that we might requisition a house built for us in Downtown Emporia, so that we might remain close to your family's home and also near to my work. Wouldn't that be lovely, darling?"
"That sounds wonderful, James. Perhaps Mr. Fink will expand soon so that the house will be done in time for the wedding." Lillian Covington gave her fiancé a pretty smile as she placed her hand on his. The Fair was a buzz around them, with children laughing as they chased each other about, waving their cotton candy. The young couple sat on a bench in the Fairgrounds, surrounded by carnival goers. The sun glistened through the clouds and sparkled off the city. Bright light reflected through the many facets on the diamond that rested on Lillian's engagement ring, the sunlight warming everything it touched, and making the twenty year old appear to the happiest woman alive. The sun made everything seem better than it was.
"I should hope so," said James, her smile bringing a radiant grin to his own face. "Otherwise we might have to buy a house in the Welcome Center District. And I want only the best for my Lillian." He leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on her cheek, giving a light squeeze to her hand. His words brought another small smile to her face, her blue eyes shining adoringly up at him. But Lillian was a good actress.
She wanted to cry. She wanted to burst into tears and tell him how much she hated Columbia, and how she wanted to be rid of the city. How she was only marrying him because he was the kindest of her suitors, the most gentle, but that she hated the way he worshipped the Prophet and bought all of the lies he spooned to the public about God and Angels and all of his nonsense. But then she may as well shout that she was the False Shepherd and be done with it, murdered on the spot.
"It's nearly six o'clock, my dear. Your parents will be expecting you home for supper, and I would hate for them to be upset with either of us." He stood from the bench and took her hand to help her us as well. Lillian smiled again as she looped her arm through his, following his lead as he took them to the gondola.
"I'll leave you here for the evening," James told her, standing at the front door of her parents' house.
"Nonsense. You'll be joining us for supper, of course," she said as she turned the handle, the door sliding silently open on oiled hinges.
"Your parents won't mind?" he asked politely. Always the gentleman, James was. So afraid of stepping on toes. So like most of the citizens of Columbia.
"Of course not. They love you." The young woman stepped through the entrance hall to their magnificent home. Elegant rugs were spread on top of the wooden floor, the walls were paneled in rich mahogany and decorated with mirrors and beautiful paintings. Not a single expense had been spared.
"Miss Covington. Mister Hartley. The misters and missus are in the dining hall, awaiting your arrival." One of their servants, Ray, greeted them. He was, of course, black. All of the servants and slaves of Columbia were colored. Upon hearing this, James turned to Lillian with a warm smile.
"Let's not tarry then." He spared no glance for Ray. Why should he? The Prophet told Columbia that other races were beneath the white man. They were God's Chosens. But Lillian did not buy into that. Her smile was reserved for Ray, kindness in each word she spared for him.
"Thank you, Ray. We appreciate it." Ray dropped his gaze, and even James looked uncomfortable. They all did, whenever she acknowledged the servants. Her parents would scold her, as would her elder brother. James was too smitten with her to really press the issue with her. He'd brought it up, once.
"Erm, Lillian, dear? Why do you speak to the servants with such…familiarity?"
She'd looked at him with a hardness she had rarely displayed to anyone. The coldness that was hidden inside had slipped through her façade in that moment.
"Because they are people too."
It had never been brought up since.
The couple stepped into the dining room, where her parents and elder brother William were already seated. All three rose at their appearance, beaming.
"Welcome home, dear!" her mother exclaimed, affectionate as ever. "James, how lovely to see you. I do hope you're staying for dinner. Freda, set out another place for Mr. Hartley." Freda, another servant, dipped her head and began to do as told, quiet as a mouse.
"Thank you, Mrs. Covington. You're most kind."
"Martha, dear. You don't have to go on calling me Mrs. Covington. Sit, sit," Mrs. Covington urged. Lillian and James took their respective places opposite William, who winked and smiled at them.
"James, as our guest, would you care to say grace this evening?" her father questioned. Lillian's fiancé smiled warmly as they all took hands, Lillian linked to James and her father.
"It would be my pleasure." As one, they bowed their heads and closed their eyes. Lillian gritted her teeth. Every damned meal. Every damned day. They had to offer their appreciation up to a God which, in her eyes, didn't exist. And she had to pretend to buy into it. Life was more stale to her than the bread that workers in Shantytown ate, if they got any at all. Day in and day out, she was a trained bird who sang their songs to make them happy.
"Bless, O Lord, this food for thy use, and make us ever mindful of the wants and needs of others. I thank you, O Lord, for allowing me to share in this meal with the wonderful family of my beloved fiancée. I am forever grateful for them, and for the opportunity to be a part of such a splendid union. In Christ's name we pray, Amen."
"Amen," they echoed, looking up and releasing their hold on each other. Lillian kept her hand on James' for a moment longer, giving it an affectionate squeeze. She knew he would like that. His warm chocolate brown eyes met her blue ones, a smile dancing in his gaze. She knew that she didn't deserve him, in a way. He mindlessly followed what all Columbians followed, yes. But he was gentle and kind, and gave her all of his love. He would support her and cherish her. And though she couldn't feel the deep love that he apparently felt for her, she could at least pretend to. Lillian would never find that deep love. She could never be in love with a sheep.
Dishes were passed around the table as the family served themselves, chattering about the annual fair. Lillian was grateful for that. At least the servants didn't dish them their food, though Freda did stay in the room to refill beverages as need be. Each 'thank you' she received from Lillian was met with stern looks from her family, but the young woman paid no heed. Conversation moved about the table, flowing seamlessly from topic to topic with ease. Soon the meal was done, the dishes were cleared, and each person swept away to partake in their separate activities. Lillian's was to walk James to the door.
"You will be attending the raffle tomorrow with your family, will you not?" James asked as they closed the front door, standing on the privacy of their stoop. "Will they be accompanying you?"
Yes, the raffle. Her whole family would certainly be going. Her parents had heard a rumor that a slave would be raffled away, and were hoping to be the winners. It filled Lillian with an icy irritation, which bordered on rage that she bottled up inside her. She wanted to rant and rave about the indecency of it all and about the continued enslavement of blacks when America had abolished it already. But nobody could know her true thoughts. Nobody could know her blasphemy.
"They will be. I will meet you there in the morning."
"Until then, my Lillian." James reached down to cup her face in his hands. In the books she'd read, the girl's that experienced the touch of their lover always felt what they described as a thrill, an electric current of excitement. Lillian felt nothing but the warmth of his hands. Even so, she smiled and closed her eyes as he leaned in to kiss her. His kisses were pleasant, yes. But that was all. Was she inhuman, to feel that way? Unnatural?
"I love you," he said quietly as he pulled back to gaze into her eyes. She smiled, placing one hand against his cheek. He was a sweet man. His brown hair was always perfectly styled, his teeth perfectly aligned, flashing white with every boyish smile he gave her. His suit, always pristine for his work at the Bank of the Prophet. His love, reserved only for her. No, she did not deserve him.
"I love you too." Lillian didn't believe she lied with her words. She did love James, in a way, even though she wasn't necessarily in love with him. It might not be in the heart-pounding, earth-shattering way that the novels described. But he would protect her, and care for her. He was a God worshipping follower of the Prophet, yes. But he didn't speak of it as often as the rest. With him, he believed it didn't need to be spoken of, because everyone should feel it in their hearts without having to speak it aloud. Lillian didn't know if that made it better or worse. But at least her fake smiles did not have to be for the word of God. Perhaps that was why he had been her favorite suitor. Because it was one less thing about which she had to pretend.
When James took his leave, the smile slipped off his face as she watched him leave. The coldness, and also the sadness, crawled back into her face. This would be her life. After twenty years, one would think she would have accepted it by now. But Lillian could never accept the chains that bound her. This was a life hardly worth living. Sighing, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, she stepped back into the entrance hall, only to find William standing there. He leaned against the railing of the stair, waiting for her. "What's wrong, Lilli?" It could hardly be called a question, with the tone he was using. His near black eyes, usually so carefree and joyful, bored into her. She folded her hands in front of her, adopting a look with the proper amount of confusion and innocence.
"What do you mean, Will? There's nothing wrong." Will. His dark curly hair drove the girls wild. Nobody knew why, but Lillian did. It made him stand apart from the men of Columbia, made him look like some sort of rogue that could do some sort of mischief at any moment. Not that he ever did. But it drove the girls wild either way. Her older brother pushed himself off the railing and came to stand in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders and staring down at her. Under his gaze, Lillian felt like there was no escape. It was the only thing in the world that had the power to make her squirm.
"Lil, I've known you your whole life. I can tell when you're bothered, and when you're acting, even when nobody else can," he stated confidently. "So what's wrong?" His confidence almost wanted to make her smile. He couldn't tell half as well as he thought. Lillian was always bothered, and always acting. She wanted to look away from his gaze, which felt like it was burning a hole through her. Even after all this years, lying to him made her feel guilty beyond reason. She let her eyes to the floor. In this case, it would help with the act of being abashed.
"I'm nervous for the wedding is all. It all seems to be happening so fast. What if I don't make a good wife?"
He stared at her for a few moments longer before accepting her excuse. And why shouldn't he? It was a perfectly logical fear for any normal girl to have. An understanding and sympathetic smile broke out across his face. "The wedding isn't for a few more months. We have plenty of time left to plan, and it will be plenty of time for you to get used to the idea. God will bless your marriage, and watch over you. He won't let you fail as a wife. And James will love you, no matter what."
Would he still love her, if he knew her deepest thoughts? Would any of them love her, or would they cast her away as the black sheep of the family? If it meant she could leave Columbia, maybe she would even accept their hate if it meant no longer hating herself. She stared at the ground to hide the irritation in her eyes. God this, God that. Screw the blessing of God. Lillian didn't want it. She only wanted to escape it.
That night, she sat in front of her vanity, dressed in her nightgown, as Addie brushed her long black hair. It flowed down to the small of her back in soft waves. It was perhaps the only truly beautiful thing about Lillian. She, like all girls, didn't see herself as some fair beauty from the stories, though she didn't think herself plain either. She did as most young women did when they stared in the mirrors, which was to pluck apart everything about themselves. Her nose, weak and undefined. Her lips, not shapely enough for her liking. Her eyes, not big enough. Her breasts, certainly too small for any man to admire. And yet James adored her. Every bit of her. Or at least, every bit of what he thought she was.
As she stared into the mirror, her nightly thoughts consumed her. Columbia. Her own personal Hell. She was an eagle among sheep, her wings chained so that she could not soar above them as she knew she could. The Lord's flock indeed. Not an original thought in any of their minds as they blindly followed the word of Comstock, all bleating the same words day in and day out, repeating the phrases shoved down their throats since birth. She'd purged herself of that stupidity by reading books of science. There was no God. And yet who would believe her? She had been raised in Columbia, and nobody left the floating city. Nobody here didn't believe in God. Would it be worth it, to admit to her nonbelieving? Would it be worth it, to be proclaimed the False Shepherd and slain on the spot? Perhaps she was just a black sheep, not an eagle. Still as dumb, still as willing to go with the crowd. It was merely the color of her mind that was different. She still feared death. Death was so final. Life was full of possibilities.
She didn't want to marry. But soon she would be considered an old maid, unfit for marriage, even though she was barely twenty. Lillian would be living her hell alone, with no children to raise, with no children to teach how to think for themselves. If she couldn't leave Columbia, would it not be better to at least help the next generation broaden their minds? Or would it be cruel, to breed more eagles with chained wings? What was the greater evil for her?
"I've turned your sheets for you, Miss Covington," said the soft voice of Addie. Lillian rose from her seat and turned to face the young black woman, not much older than herself. A small smile appeared on her face and she reached a hand out to place on the other woman's shoulder.
"You are too good to me, Addie. I found something at the Fairgrounds I think you'd like. Perhaps I'll buy it for you. As a thank you for all that you do."
Addie flushed a deep color as she looked down, clearly embarrassed. "Miss Covington, you're too kind. I don't think it would be proper for no servant woman to be getting a gift from her mistress. I'm only doing my job, miss, nothing more."
Lillian sighed. She forgot that Addie was relatively new. Her parents had wanted a slave that was closer to Lillian's age, which Addie exceeded only by a few years. So they'd gotten rid of Harriet, who had loved Lillian and treated her like a silly child. No other servant would have the guts to talk to Lillian that way, except for Harriet. And Lillie had loved her for it. "Nonsense. You're a human being, not a "servant woman." And you're my friend. You're supposed to call me Lillian, remember?" Addie looked up sheepishly and gave her a fleeting smile.
"Yes, Miss Lillian." It was close enough.
Once she was tucked into her warm bed and left alone, staring into the darkness, Lillian didn't have to worry about anybody seeing her emotions, written clearly across her face now in the cover of darkness. A bitter resentment, an apprehension, a hatefulness for her life. The raffle would be tomorrow. Who knew what kind of prejudiced horrors would happen at the Fair.
All of these Columbians, seeking their salvation from God. What about Lillian? Who would be her salvation from the hell of Columbia? She would be a chained eagle all of her life. All she wanted was somebody to help her to fly.