DISCLAIMER: Don't own it, never did. *pouts* I do own Novialeigh, though! And her mommy! And Thomas! And Jameson! I own them! I DO!!!
I am reposting this since ff.net locked my old account, "Heavily". The bastards. *cries*
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Novialeigh Jennings stared wistfully out the window of the carriage, her nose pressed to the glass. "Young lady, turn around this instant." hissed her mother in a soft tone. She spun around, facing the front as she was told. Being upset personally was one thing, but upsetting her mother? An entirely different story to behold, and she knew it well enough.
"I wish Papa didn't go away so often." she said, more to herself than to her mother. "Novialeigh, you know he has business to attend to, stop being so selfish!" the older Jennings woman spit out at her. "Yes, mother, I suppose you're right..." she whispered, staring down at the floor of the carriage as tears of anger welled up in her eyes. "I swear, these days you've become so unlady-like, we'll never find you a suitor. Your tongue is like an awaiting snake, ready to bite the first person that walks past..." On and on she vented, about manners and the importance of standing up straight, crossing ones ankles, and only speaking when spoken to, but Novialeigh wasn't listening. She let her mind drift to thoughts of the sea, and freedom; of having the choice to live her life as she pleased.
She reminisced about the stories her father would tell her when she was young. He was a traveling merchant, and had seen much of the world as he went from place to place, country to country. The rich marketplaces of India, the warm sun of the tropics, he remembered every detail and would tell them to her as soon as he arrived home. She would snuggle close to him, closing her eyes as she deeply inhaled the smell of the ocean in his clothes. He would talk for hours to her, as though she was a dear friend, rather than his little girl, and with every word he spoke, she craved more.
"Father, will you take me with you one day?" He would chuckle as she stared up at him with sparkling bottle-green eyes, the color of warm ocean waters off the coast of Spain.
"Aye, someday… when you're older, I shall whisk you off to anywhere you please. We'll just sail off, and never return…" She would smile at him, kiss his cheek softly, and hurry up to bed, leaving him to weep about the life he was leading. She never sensed that her father was depressed, or that he hated his wife. Novialeigh simply trusted that someday, she would sail away into the sunset, with anyone.
But as the carriage pulled up to the front of her house, she realized that she was doomed to live the life of a common house pet, one to be neglected while her husband was away on business. 'No wonder my mother is so bitter… she hates for Papa to be away…' Her face took on a partially sour, partially humored look as she muttered to herself, "…has no one to scream at…" Her mother jerked her head quickly to the side, glaring at Novialeigh. "What was that?" she hissed. "Nothing, ma'am… my apologies…" Her mother sighed, shaking her head. "You really must learn to speak only when spoken to, Novialeigh."
The driver climbed down from his seat, opening the door and offering his hand to her mother, who disregarded it entirely, not bothering to even acknowledge his existence. He shrugged, helping Novialeigh down, and began carrying bags into the house. She stepped out of the carriage into the bright sunlight, shielding her eyes from the rays. Her mother marched briskly up the stairs and into the house, past the butler, without even making a verbal announcement of her appreciation. Novialeigh, however, approached the man with a smile. "Good afternoon, Jameson", she said quietly.
"'Allo, Miss Nova… would ye like a spo' a tea sent up to yo' room?" She shook her head. "No, Jameson, I'm afraid I'll most likely have to prepare for guests, or worse, more lessons…" She sighed, folding her hands in front of her. "Alrigh' then, Miss Nova, jus' ring whenever yo' ready fo' yo' bath" he replied in his thick Irish accent, and she curtsied as she headed into the library.
"Moth-" She froze as she looked up, as she saw her mother speaking with a young man of about twenty whom she knew well enough.
"Hello, Miss Jennings…" said the handsome man, standing to greet her. Novialeigh clenched her fists in the folds over her skirt. "Hello, Mr. Hawthorne… tis a pleasure" she spat out. "Novialeigh Elizabeth Jennings!" cried her mother, jumping from her seat behind the desk. Novialeigh curtsied slightly. "My apologies, Mr. Hawthorne, I'm really not myself today…" He held his hand out for hers, leading her to the extra chair besides his. "Mother…?!" Novialeigh exclaimed, the concern rising in her voice. "Novialeigh, please!" Her mother cried, sitting back in her seat. "Now… I'm glad you came looking for me, I was about to call for you…"
Novialeigh, however, was hardly paying attention to her mother. Staring out of the corner of her eye at the young man, she could hardly contain her anger. Suspicious about why he was here, she bit her bottom lip. Thomas Hawthorne, however, was trying to contain himself in another sense. The son of another very well-to-do merchant, it was only obvious he had been searching for someone he could start his own family with. Many young ladies of the town deeply coveted him, having all his fathers' worldly possessions since his death, but Novialeigh despised him, and he knew it. However, he was the type of person that couldn't take a subtle hint. He stared her up at down, grinning a self-satisfied grin, before he directed his attention to her mother.
"Now, Mrs. Jennings, please don't make this uncomfortable for her… I would hate for her to dislike me or the impending news." Nodding, Mrs. Jennings smiled, albeit falsely, her eyes looking Novialeigh over. "Yes, I suppose you're right, Thomas. Novialeigh… how should I put this… I-"
As Mrs. Jennings paused dramatically, Thomas, being impatient in his own sense, knelt down before Novialeigh. "I've been coming here more often as of late, if you haven't noticed." Novialeigh felt her face go ghostly pale, her palm, pressed tight against his, go clammy. "Indeed, I've noticed, Mr. Hawthorne…" He smiled, looking to the ground, then directing his eyes to hers. "No… please call me Thomas… Novialeigh, I've been coming here for you… I've spoken with your father, and unfortunately, he couldn't be here today, but he's given his consent for us to be wed."
Novialeigh felt her head swimming in confusion. "Marriage?" She whispered quietly against her free hand. "Aye, marriage. Please say you will, Novialeigh, for I'm terribly fond of you, and I would be heartbroken if you said no." He peered up into her eyes from the floor, a pleading frown forming around his lips. She shook her head softly, at a total lose for words. "Mr. Haw- I mean, Thomas…" She looked over at her mother, terror in her eyes, but her mother only smiled encouragingly, as if to say, 'Say yes, girl, do it and get out of my house!'
A wave of nausea washed over Novialeigh, and she clutched her stomach. "I… oh, dear…" she muttered, and went as white as a ghost. Struggling to stand up, the room began to spin, and she blindly reached out for the arm of her chair, but missed, collapsing to the floor.
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Groaning, the girls' eyelids slid open, revealing two deep pools of sparkling green. "Oh, dear, you gave me such a fright!" declared her mother, rising from the chair beside Novialeigh's bedside. "Not too mention Thomas, too…" Novialeigh struggled to sit upwards, but laid back down immediately, still woozy. "Well, aren't you getting up? You have a marriage proposal to answer, Novialeigh!" "Mother, won't you let me be?!" she cried out, pulling her pillow over her head. "Novialeigh, don't you start!!" exclaimed her mother, ripping the pillow from her. "Now you listen to me. There is a handsome, kind, rich young man downstairs who would like to marry you, and you're acting like the spoiled brat your father has raised you to be. It's just like him to leave before this happened." Novialeigh turned over, burying her face in her arms as tears began to pour from her eyes. "Now. You will march your behind downstairs, you will accept his proposal politely, and you will stop being such a disgusting ninny."
With that, Novialeigh's mother threw the bedroom door open, and slammed it behind her. Doing the best she could to compose herself, Novialeigh sat up shakily, drying her eyes, and heading toward her washbasin. She began wiping her face off on a small hand towel, and gave herself a long look in the mirror. "Novialeigh Jennings, you've no time to waste crying over spilt milk…" she whispered quietly to her reflection before turning on her heels and marching downstairs.
At the foot of the stairs, pacing anxiously, was Thomas. He looked up as soon as he saw her at the top of the stairs, and smiled warmly, as though all his fear had melted away as she appeared. She could hardly return his feelings, but managed a forced smile as she gripped the banister and headed downstairs slowly. "Your mother told me you've said yes…" he exclaimed with a smile, rushing up to meet her. She stopped, her foot in midair, practically choking on her fake smile. "Oh…" she whispered, her hand going to her throat. He glanced around, making sure Mrs. Jennings was no where in sight, and lowered his mouth to her ear. "I swear you won't regret it, Novialeigh, I swear it…" With that, he softly pressed his lips to her cheek, and rushed down the stairs and out the front door, closing it softly behind him.
Disgusted, she ripped out her handkerchief, wiping her cheek compulsively. "AGH!" she shrieked, running down into the library where her mother sat at her desk.
"HOW DARE YOU!?" She shouted loudly, flinging the door open so that it slammed against the wall. "Novialeigh! What's gotte-" "NO! Don't you start…" she said, pointing her finger accusingly at her mother as she marched to the desk. Slamming her hands down, palm first, on the smooth oak surface, she spoke quietly with a deadly undertone which was a bit unwise for her, but she neither noticed nor cared.
"How dare you tell him that I said yes?! I wanted to talk to him, to get to know him before I made a decision, but I'm guessing that wasn't good enough for you, was it!? Was having me live at home one more month that much of a problem to you, do you hate me that badly?! Her mother simply sucked in her breath. "Get out of my sight, you wretch, before I have you hung." Novialeigh stared at her in disbelief, her icy green eyes now turned daggers. "You make me sick, Mother," she whispered, as she stormed out of the library, slamming the door behind her in such a manner that the window panes rattled.
She began to ascend the stairs, run into her room and sob hysterically for the evening, but as her hand hit the banister, another hand gripped her shoulder softly. "Miss Nova, are ye' alrigh'?" Jameson asked, with quizzical, worrisome eyes. She shook her head, looking at the floor. "No, Jameson, I'm not alright… my mother has agreed on my behalf for me to wed Mr. Hawthorne." He inhaled sharply from surprise. "Oh, goodness, Miss Nova, that's terrible… I'm so sorry…" She shrugged her shoulders, not looking up, and he hugged her. She wept into his shirt, her whole body shaking. "Shhh, shhh, Miss Nova, it'll be alrigh'…" She shook her head, not wanting to hear anything he had to say about how nice a person Thomas might be. "No, Jameson, it won't be alright… not at all… it will never be alright, because I loathe that man, he disgusts me, and I hate this! All of it!" He smoothed her hair, pulling back from her. "Miss Nova, I've lived in this house since ye were a tiny little thing, just as high as m'knee… an' I knew tis day was comin'…" He took his fingers, raising her chin so that he could look deep into her eyes. "An' I know you… an' yer ready fo' this…" He squeezed her shoulders reassuringly.
"No, Jameson… I'm not ready for this. I hate that man more than I hate the Devil himself, and I will have no part in this." She turned quickly, ripping herself from his grip and ran up the stairs. "Miss Nova!!" he called after her, but she ignored him, instead throwing herself on the bed.
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There. Night of the Butterfly Chapter One, reformatted and reposted. So someone, review!!!! PLEASE!!!! *implores the people*