The title of this story comes from William Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra, the line is actually "Eternity was in our lips and eyes." Inspired by my love of Gone With The Wind and also Pride and Prejudice, though this is more like Gone With The Wind. This is a very AU story, just saying. And I will try my best to be honest to the history and vernacular of the time, don't kill me if something's not correct though!
This story is set to be around 20 chapters long and with every detail already set, I think I should be able to update this regularly. But if you've been a reader of my stories, you know that I tend to leave stories un-updated for long periods. But I will try to keep this going regularly!
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And I'd appreciate it if you reviewed, please don't be silent. :) Thanks for reading!
The worst part of the day was the beginning, with how much she had to endure to be dressed for the day.
Miss Clare Edwards would always be woken by two maids, paid to get her out of bed by opening her curtains to let the bright glare of the sunlight in, paid to get Miss Clare Edwards dressed for the day, a feat more difficult everyday as she resisted the corset more and more, and paid to make sure she got to her teacher in time for her simple little class.
Miss Clare Edwards lived in a small town in Massachusetts, born to a man who built his fortune by practicing medicine, working as a surgeon in Philadelphia for Dr. George L. Shearer. Randall Edwards had been one of the first surgeons in the country and decided to work elsewhere, settling down in Boston with his wife Helen. After raising two girls to adolescence, Randall passed away to a sickness Clare wasn't familiar with from all of the books that her father had read to her.
But Randall had left his family secure, the Edwards property to their name despite not having a male heir, and they were living just fine. The family caused a scandal in their area though as widow Helen Edwards remarried. This time it was a widower named Glen Martin, whom Helen knew as a child. Glen had a child of his own named Jacob and they all became a larger family. Helen and Glen, the eldest Darcy, the middle and only boy Jacob (whom Clare calls Jake, despite it being "informal"), and Clare herself, trailing three years behind Darcy and one behind Jake.
Clare remained blissfully ignorant of what the townspeople said about her family. She'd hear snippets of what women said behind cupped hands pressed against another's ears, she'd see stares as she walked by, but she chooses to ignore it.
"Others have no other business to tend to so they choose to make some use of their lives by scrutinizing others," Helen told her once when she inquired about why girls her age stared. "All that is relevant to us is our happiness, our family's happiness, and nothing else. We have been blessed with a beautiful home and our health. That is all we need to know."
So Clare took her mother's words to heart. God blessed her family with money and a house and clothing and loved ones. No person in her town would ruin her happiness just from their petty gossip and wide-eyed stares.
Once Clare finished her reading class with her private teacher, she stopped by the market before heading home. Clare never carried any coins with her, therefore never buying any items at the market, but she enjoyed looking. She liked to see what fruits were available that day, what new inventions were being tried out, what little kids seemed to play while they waited for their parents' shops to close. Clare was observant, her eyes wandering almost always and analyzing.
Almost every trip she made to the market she'd emerge with a free fruit or a freshly picked flower from an admiring man or an innocent little boy. Before leaving the market she would give her free gift to another, passing on the happiness she gained from the kindness of another.
Clare's journey home was always full of stops. She would take the time to wave and greet the closest neighbors (whose houses were a quarter of a mile away from her own) and she would enjoy the weather on a bright, breezy day. The weather dictated her walk home but today, the weather was favorable, uncharacteristically warm for an October day, and Clare opted to stay out longer, knowing that when she got home, her mother would give her things to do.
When she arrived at the property, the front door was opened for her and she was bowed to by the servants and maids that worked for her family. She smiled at them all, saying their names in greeting, and walked to the kitchen where she found her favorite woman slaving away at the stove.
Her family's cook was named Cece Goldsworthy, the matriarch of her own family, and the best cook in town. Cece was also a second mother to Clare, nursing her from birth when Helen was ill after giving birth. Sometimes Clare found herself loving Cece more than her own mother, though she rid that thought from her mind instantly.
"How were your lessons this morning Miss Clare?" Cece asked her upon seeing her.
"The same," Clare answered honestly sighing against the wall. "Though I do enjoy the poems we read. They're quite beautiful."
"Ah my son is alike, he often times wishes to hear a poem or preferably, have me obtain a book of poems for him to read," Cece smiles, stirring away at a giant pot. "But I have yet to find such a book for a suitable price."
"Well I may lend him one of my own," Clare offered. "If it please you."
"Darling, it is not my place to ask this of—"
"I insist," Clare assured her. "I have not seen Elijah for a while now. Where has he been?"
"Finding work in various homes," Cece told her. "Fixing broken doors, patios, windows."
"Does he attend school?"
Cece shook her head. "Our family needs him to work, for my wage and my husband's is insufficient to provide for us. I wish he may since I have taught him all I have learned in school and he wishes to learn more. But at the moment, we cannot afford it."
"If he were to sit in during a session of mine, I'm sure that—"
"Clare Diana."
Clare flipped around, flattening her dress to prevent it from being caught. Her mother was standing at the kitchen doorway, the same look on her face as always. Stern and direct. Her face was pale from her use of expensive powder. Her cheeks were red and Clare was not sure if it was because of the weather or from excessive pinching.
"Come with me, I am sure that Cece here is busy tending to our food." Helen waved her hand to motion Clare over and Clare took her mother's hand. Before leaving the kitchen she turned her head to smile and wave to their cook.
Once out of sight, Helen pinched Clare's hand. She turned to her daughter and said, "You will not offer your private school lessons to another, understood? We pay for you to receive your education so we can be sure that you are receiving a good education rather than a subpar one offered in public schooling. We are paying for yours, Jacob's, and Darcy's education, not for a child out of this family. Understood?"
Clare nodded vigorously, smoothing her hand to rid of the pain inflicted by her mother's sharp nails. She watched as her mother left the sitting room, probably off to powder her face some more. Once her mother was gone, Clare looked around among her step-father's collection of books. He had a collection fit for a library and Clare was happy she had her choice of any.
She decided on her favorite Pride and Prejudice, the first novel Clare read that affected her so. The book turned her into a romantic, picturing herself part of a beautiful romance that endures obstacles, internal and external, a romance to be remembered. Clare pined for it every time she read the novel, every time she heard that members of her social circle were getting married. She wished for the love Fitzwilliam Darcy had for Elizabeth Bennet, unconditional and unprejudiced.
Walking over to sit on what she believed to be the most comfortable couch in the room, she saw a newspaper sitting beside her step-father's chair. Because Clare always desired to be up-to-date with the news of the country, although her mother looks down upon it, she grabbed it. Realizing it was an old edition of The Liberator, Clare chose to read Jane Austen's novel instead. She had read almost every edition of The Liberator that her step-father had in his possession multiple times.
Clare managed to spend most of her day reading instead of the sewing her mother often persuaded her to do. Instead of sewing letters and words using needle and thread, Clare read them, immersed in the beautiful text. She sat in her room, sitting close to the window for the best reading light, with her focus solely on the words in front of her.
"In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."
As Clare read on of Darcy's proposal and Elizabeth's refusal, she heard a sound outside of her window. Out of her second story bedroom, she had a view of the first floor patio roof and the person who made their way onto it. Squinting a bit, Clare tried to focus on the person's face to figure out who it was but the figure wasn't turning her direction. Finally the figure turned and at first, Clare was unsure of who it was. But after minutes of shameless staring Clare did put a name to the face.
It was Cece's son Elijah, who seemed to look older after not having seen him for months.
After staring for many minutes, Clare realized that Elijah was fixing a part of the patio roof. He was dressed in tattered and dirty clothing, most likely from his trade. He was taking broken pieces of wood from the roof and went down the ladder with them, taking him from Clare's sight. After Elijah hadn't returned for a while, Clare went back to her book only to realize that she wasn't reading the words anymore. Her mind was plagued with the visual of the boy, probably closer to Jake's age than hers. She hadn't seen a close look at him but still, she was enticed enough to be distracted from her favorite hobby.
Clare tried going back to her reading but it was no use. She would read an entire page before realizing that she hasn't read it at all. Her eyes glazed over the words, not registering any of it. Instead she could only see Elijah working on the patio roof.
Wishing to distract herself, Clare grabbed her sewing and went to meticulously embroider a delicate flower on the white fabric. When she found herself thinking of Elijah, she would accidentally poke herself with the sharp needle. This became the perfect distraction then, as she wished not to think of Elijah nor pierce her fingers even more.
One of the maids knocked on her door to signal that it was time for dinner. Clare turned to the window and realized how much time had actually passed. She looked down to her stitching and saw that she had actually made progress with it. Setting her sewing ring down, she walked downstairs to the dining room where her family was already waiting. Her mother stood at one end of the table, her step-father at another, and Jake at the seat opposite her own. The only vacant seat was of Darcy's, who had left Boston to study elsewhere.
Their chairs were pulled out for them and Clare gratefully smiled at the older man named Marco. He was always the one to pull out her chair, set her courses in front of her, and refill her water glass. Though the servants made themselves invisibles during non-meal hours, Clare still managed to create a bond with Marco.
Her family ate mostly in silence. Clare would simply finish her food without a word, unless she was spoken to. But occasionally she would see Jake making faces at her across the table to make her laugh.
They were made family when Clare was ten, a month away from her eleventh birthday, and Jake was twelve. And to say that they were at odds with each other was putting it lightly. They fought constantly, causing distress to their parents and all of those who worked in the house. Because none of the servants, housekeepers, maids, and cooks wanted to make it look as if they favored the Edwards over the Martin, or vice versa, they ignored the bickering. And neither Helen nor Glen could keep the two from arguing for more than a day.
But with age and maturity, the two managed to get along. Clare realized that once she and her brother were at peace, the house seemed to relax as well.
Now they were back to their silly ways, filling the silence in the dining room with contorted faces and stuck out tongues. Their parents seemed to be oblivious and hopefully so, since they would be lectured on table manners until the sun came up the following morning.
"The weather was unseasonably warm today," Helen noted, the first of the family to speak during dinner.
"I enjoyed it," Clare replied to her mother. "My walk home was particularly—"
"Clare, I thought I told you to take the carriage," her mother cut in harshly. "A young girl like you should not be walking unattended through the town all the way home."
"I did manage to get home safely," Clare muttered over her glass of water. But her mother, with her strangely advanced and almost scary hearing heard her words, evident from the sharp look on her face.
"You will take the carriage in the morning," Helen said sternly. "You will thank me. Once the weather becomes too cold and a strange, poor man asks you to marry him and follows you home, then you'd wish you had listened."
"Mother, I believe that you are being dramatic," Clare retorted. "But I will take the carriage."
Helen smiled in victory and went back to her plate of food. Clare glanced over the Jake again and pointed to his father with a movement of her head, urging him to bring up a new subject.
"Father," Jake piped up, turning his head. "When is the election this year?"
"Soon, son," Glen told him. "In early November."
"Do you know who you will vote for?"
Glen nodded. "Of course son. I have been following all of the news of the two candidates and based on what they want to see for this country, I have decided to cast my vote for Lincoln."
"Why is that?" Clare questioned inquisitively. One thing she and her step-father had in common, beside their love of books, was their interest in politics. Neither Jake nor her mother had much interest in the matter, since the only person in their family who could vote was Glen. But Clare liked knowing what was going on in their country. She desired to see more of the country than her small Massachusetts town.
"The North has been almost exclusively slavery-free," Glen began, directing his attention to his step-daughter. "And the South has been adamant on keeping their slaves. Lincoln believes in abolishing slavery and I firmly agree with him. I also managed to procure a campaign button of Lincoln and his vice president Hamlin."
Glen fished it out of his pocket and directed one of the servers to hand it over to Clare. She admired its delicacy and formality. She had never heard of a campaign button before, though by its name it was safe to decipher what it was.
"Can I keep it?" she asked excitedly. Glen nodded in confirmation and she couldn't help but squeal in excitement.
"For goodness sake, Clare. A woman should not be as interested as you are in politics," Helen hissed harshly. "And you should not be treasuring such petty items."
"Helen, it's a gift from me, of course she should treasure it," Glen protested his wife. With a smile, he turned back to Clare. "I would be insulted if you let it out of your sight!"
Clare couldn't help but smile brightly as her step father. He loved to spoil her with little things he would get on the way home from work. A little trinket, new earrings. But this was the most special because it meant more than just a little thing to add to her jewelry box.
"My love," Helen said in fake sweetness. "I do not think that—"
"My wife," Glen interrupted. "Clare is sixteen years old and perfectly capable of shaping her mind with the subjects she chooses. If politics is her interest, let it be. If not, that is fine as well."
Helen clamped her mouth shut and said no more for the rest of dinner. Clare and Jake listened as their father continued talking about the impending election and the clear division between the North and South over the largest issue of the country. One of his co-workers had alluded to a possible war, causing Clare to gasp and Jake to be more alert.
"A war would mean a draft," Jake concluded, tearing his gaze away from his father and stared at the table.
"Jacob, there is no need to worry," Glen assured him. Clare was able to see that Glen himself was trying to keep a strong face. Switching back at forth from looking at the Martin men, she realized that if Glen's co-worker was right, there was a big chance that one of them would leave for the war. Clare didn't wish to worry herself or her family more so she chose to change the subject.
"Jake," she interjected with a plastered smile. "My good friend Katie has expressed interest in you. Do you remember her?"
Jake's face lit up but upon realizing how big his smile became, he coughed into his hand. "Yes, I do remember," he nodded, reaching for his glass.
"Are you referring to Katherine Matlin? Daughter of Margaret Matlin?" Helen marveled happily. "Now Jacob, that would be a fine match! The Matlins are a wonderful family."
Jake agreed sheepishly with his lips pressed against his glass. Clare was amused seeing Jake as flustered as he was. It was clear to Clare a while ago that her good friend Katie had a crush on her brother and while observing the two in secret, Katie's feelings were reciprocated. But Katie was shy and Jake wouldn't act unless he was entirely sure.
"I like Katie as well," Glen told his son. "If you wish to court her, Jacob, then it is clear that you have our permission. You must ask her parents if you may court her but—"
"They will surely agree," Helen finished for her husband. She could not hide the happiness building up in her. "Oh, this is wonderful. The first courtship of the family."
"Well mother, do you remember the first boy who wanted to court Darcy?" Clare brought up in a joking manner.
Surprisingly though, Helen's rolling eyes was followed by a smile. "That poor boy. He was a perfectly fine boy."
"But Darcy did not agree," Clare added. "With her pushing him down into mud and all."
The Edwards-Martin family shared a rare, genuine laugh among them. Jokes often died out in conversation that involved Helen Edwards but this time she was able to join in with the laughter. Clare and Helen explained the entire story to the two men, that Darcy's first suitor was named William and was from a lesser wealthy family but a gentleman, nonetheless. Helen had approved of William but Darcy had been in love with some boy named Gavin, a boy who lived in town and worked at his father's produce stand. Darcy had denied William's court proposal and William did not take no for an answer until Darcy shoved him to the ground, into a pile of mud beside the street.
Once dinner was over and the servers had taken their plates, the family separated into their usual after dinner tasks. Helen and Glen went into the library, Jake went to his shed to continue with one of his projects, and Clare was going to retreat back to her room to do more embroidering but decided to join Jake instead.
Picking up her dress, much against Helen's former pleas to not show her ankles, Clare walked the small distance between the house and the back shed. Once there she thought she would find Jake slaving away at some piece of finely shaped wood when she was met with the sight of her brother and the boy she'd been staring at earlier.
"Clare," Jake smiled upon seeing her.
"Miss Clare," Elijah said in greeting, politely shoving his hair out of his face to attempt to look cleaner than he really was.
"Hello," Clare replied shyly. She sat down in her usual seat that Jake had left for her against one of the walls of the shed and watched the two boys converse. Jake was handing Elijah a few tools and Elijah gave him long sheets of wood.
Once the discussion was over, Elijah started making his way out. "Goodnight," he said politely to Jake. Passing by, Elijah gave a cordial smile to Clare. "Goodnight Miss Clare."
"Goodnight Elijah," she replied with the same cordial smile.
"If you wish, you may call me Eli," he offered. "If that is easier for you. It is for my parents."
This was the first time in months that Clare had seen Eli but the first time ever seeing him up close, even when they were children. At this distance, Clare saw the freckles over his nose, the layer of dirt that grazed his neck, and his shockingly green eyes. Clare believed them to be brown but she was proven wrong.
Her favorite color was previously yellow. Now it was green.
"Then if you wish, you may call me Clare," she replied with blushing cheeks. "Miss Clare makes me cringe."
"Are you sure, Miss Clare?"
Hearing Eli address her as Miss Clare when he was so close to her made her scrunch up her nose. The formality of it always made her want to demand that she only be called Clare but her mother would have something to say about that.
"I will miss that expression," Eli said, pointing at her. "But I will oblige. Goodnight Clare."
Clare watched Eli walk out of the shed, towards the house, and realized that her heart had been racing the entire time. Putting a hand over her clothed chest, she willed for her heart to slow down.
"Well then."
Clare jumped in surprise at the voice, realizing Jake had witnessed the entire exchange across the room. Jake simply laughed and continued his work and Clare was grateful that he was not going to joke at her expense. She spent the rest of the hour thinking of Eli, his handsome face and beautiful eyes, until Jake told her that it was time to go back into the house.