The Class Distinctions

Chapter Eleven
OCFF#29: Pack up and go.

The house loomed behind them – immense, empty, haunting. Juniper Hall was a home meant to be filled with happy, smiling faces, but, now, as the two lone inhabitants stood side by side watching the last of the help pull away in their wagon, they were the only remaining dwellers. They left for various reasons, mainly because their families needed them at home while the men went off to fight in the war, but, nevertheless, it was a frightening prospect, and Marissa couldn't help but wonder if this was just one of the events Gideon had attempted to prepare her for that day almost two months ago when they were out searching for supplies together.

However, she wasn't going to focus on her trepidation. After all, technically, she was in charge. Because Dolley was five years her junior, it was her responsibility to look after the younger woman, to protect her, to reassure her even if she herself was in need of some reassurance. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this moment, for, in essence, she was in command of an entire household despite the fact that she had only a slight, pampered fourteen year old to assist her. But her charge couldn't know of her fear, so, pushing aside her worries and anxiety, Marissa turned towards the brunette, smiling brightly.

"Follow me."

Dutifully, Dolley listened, trailing after her ladies maid. As her shadow, they moved about the property, circling the large, stately mansion, bypassing the extensive gardens, and, eventually, came to a stop at the stables. Due to the fact that their progression had been rather hurried, both girls were slightly out of breath by the time they reached the impressive barns, and, to gather themselves, they paused momentarily to lean against the paddock's railings.

She could tell that her friend wanted to know what they were doing there, but, still, Marissa remained silent. She needed the peace and tranquility to formulate a plan, and she knew that being inside wouldn't afford her that luxury. But out in the open, far from the constraints of polite society and where no lady would voluntarily go by herself without a groomsman to help her, she felt like she could breathe again. For some reason or another, despite the fact that Ryan had moved on past his old position for her parents as their family's coachman, she associated the stables and the animals they housed with her made-up husband, and thinking of Ryan reminded her of just exactly how far she had already come in life with only the help of a poor, orphaned upstart. And she needed that level of confidence.

Moments passed into minutes, and the minutes deepened into more than an hour, but, still, neither of the two young women spoke. While she watched the nothing that surrounded them, listened to the quiet of the nothing enveloping them, she could feel the brunette's deep, rich gaze upon her, studying her, scrutinizing her, attempting to emulate her outward 

serenity. And, then, finally, when the noon day, summer sun reached its pinnacle in the sky, Marissa knew exactly what they were going to do.

They were going to survive, to the best of their ability, without the assistance of either man or woman - just the two of them with the support of everything the moneyed estate had to offer. And, if she didn't have a plan as to how they were going to do such a thing, she, at least, had a place to start.

"Your father has a summer pasture for the horses, doesn't he?"

"I believe so, yes," Dolley answered, her voice, hesitant at first, gaining strength with every word she uttered.

"Do you think that you could show me where it is, and, if not, do you happen to know where he keeps the plans to the property?"

The fourteen year old grinned impishly, blushing profusely. "I can show you."

"Really," Marissa teased, elbowing her friend slightly while returning her playful smile. "And, for some reason, I do believe there is a story behind your knowledge." When her charge went to speak, she stopped her, holding up one slender, graceful hand. "Will you save it for our walk, though," she requested, quickly moving to strip out of her dress. As she unfastened the hampering garment, the younger girl stared at her in shock and dismay.

"What… what are you doing?"

"We're about to drive every single one of your father's prized, thoroughbred horses into a far field during the hottest point of a June day. It's going to be too hot to wear our dresses, so I'm, at least, going to go in my chemise."

"But that's scandalous," Dolley protested, her own daintily gloved hand flying up to her open, plumped mouth. "Why, if anyone saw us…"

"No one will."

"But, still…"

"I'd rather flaunt society's rules than suffer from heat stroke, personally," the blonde remarked, interrupting her friend. "However, the choice is yours. Besides," she smirked, preparing herself to level a challenge at the teenager. "Think of it as an adventure. Isn't it rather pleasurable to do something that's so wrong?"

Her employer's daughter giggled, rolling her eyes despite the fact that she was rapidly attempting – and failing – to catch up to her lady's maid as she undressed. "Do you promise to keep this a secret?"



"Of course," Marissa pledged to her, crossing her index finger over the portion of her chest where her heart resided. "Forever and always."

Several minutes later when they were both in nothing but their pantaloons and thin underclothes, the two girls set out, first darting over to the gate to quickly allow the horses to leave their tight confines. As if reveling in their newfound freedom as well, the regal, awe inspiring animals took off at a rapid clip, galloping ahead of their mistresses only to stop, play, and munch on the plentiful grass several hundred yards ahead. Starting after them, they followed the animals' path, weaving in and around the tall meadow at a leisurely pace.

"Before you tell me your story," the nineteen year old prefaced, there are a few ideas I want to run by you." Dolley nodded, signaling for her to continue. "Well, first of all, the reason I want to relocate the horses to the back, summer pasture is because we really won't have any use for them anymore. I certainly can't operate a carriage, and I know that you can't either, and, without a coachman, we'd either have to ride sidesaddle or walk anywhere that we need to go. All the neighbors are close enough that it would be a waste of time to get the horses out and struggle ourselves to seat them with the proper riding equipment. See," she lightened her voice, shaking her head in feigned irritation. "This is exactly why I wanted Mr. Atwood to teach me how to ride bareback."

"Oh," the brunette gasped, laughing gaily. "I couldn't imagine doing something like that."

"Well, get used to the idea, because, as soon as your father and," she paused, recollected herself, "my husband return home on leave, I'm going to insist that we receive our very first lesson."

"Papa will never agree to that."

"He will," Marissa assured her, offering the petite girl beside her a playful wink. "I can guarantee you that."

But Dolley just shook her head in delight, in doubt. "What else did you want to run by me?"

"Well, I was thinking that, since it's only going to be the two of us living in the house, we should probably close off most of the rooms, only keep open the ones we need. We could cover up the furniture with sheets, close all the drapes, and, then, not have to worry about the upkeep on those unused spaces."

Nodding in approval, her charge agreed, "that seems wise."

"Also, despite the fact that your father purchased us enough food stuffs to last the entire household a year or more, I don't think that we should act extravagantly with our extra supplies. I've never been in a situation like this before," Marissa shared, clarifying only when the fourteen year old looked at her in question. "I've never lived during wartime, but, from what I've learned in history books, anything is possible, and the worst often happens. If things don't go well for us, we could be fighting for much longer than a few months, and 

we might end up being called upon to aid the army in some way – either through donations of goods or by housing injured soldiers. I would just feel more reassured if we kept our extra provisions exactly that at this point – extra. Store them away, forget about them, but keep them in the back of our minds for a rainy day or…"

"A set of extenuating circumstances we are, by no means, prepared to even contemplate at this point," her employer's only child finished for her. "I couldn't agree more."

"And, as for everything else," Marissa promised, reaching out for the younger woman's hand to grasp in her own as they picked up their pace and started skipping, just like carefree children, through the tall grasses and young, sapling trees. "We'll simply have to figure that out as we go. Now," she commanded light-heartedly. "Tell me about this little story of yours."

"Well," Dolley started, the pretty rose tint prevalent to her creamy cheeks announcing her embracement. "Did I ever tell you about Jacob? He used to work for us in our dairy. He had the most handsome green eyes I have ever seen in my life, and..."

As her teenage friend went on, detailing to Marissa the particulars of her very first crush, she knew they were going to be alright as long as they had each other.

.:.

They were back in Boston, but it felt as if he had stepped foot in an alien city. Just weeks prior, the local Militia and the British Regulars had fought a steeply contested battle just outside of the city, and, though the Patriots were forced to retreat, the Redcoats had suffered a heavy enough loss not to press their victory. The siege had been broken, though, and, now, here they were as members of General George Washington's staff, preparing to form the Continental Army.

War did not make for an easy existence. It was more work, dirtier, and, sometimes, less rewarding than his former position for the Coopers back in England, but, still, Ryan would not have changed his lot in life. Whether or not he was comfortable, he was certainly learning new things every day, and, more importantly, he was a functioning, oftentimes, even important, member of a cause he easily and readily believed in. Rather than toiling away day after day to simply survive, he was now endeavoring to ensure that the ideals and beliefs of the American Colonies could survive the tyranny of King George. It was an exhilarating new reality for him, but, still, he couldn't help but wonder…

How were things back home at Juniper Hall? Were Marissa and Miss Johnson alright? Did they have any connection to the outside world at that point, or were they, like many of the people the moving army had encountered on their way from Philadelphia to Boston, totally oblivious to what was going on around them. He knew that many countryside estates were too sheltered to get word from the battlefield, and he hoped that his letters had the ability to reach their hands. If he was lonely surrounded by thousands of men as they drilled, marched, and trained for imminent battle, then the girls had to be feeling even more alone with only just themselves and the company of a few, older servants.


"You look completely lost there, son."

Pivoting around in his foldable camp seat to face and address his employer, the sandy haired young man shrugged, admitting to the accusation set against him by the older man. "Guilty, Sir, I'm afraid."

"Aw, no harm, no foul, Young Atwood. While you still have the opportunity to, you should allow your mind to wander now and again. However, if you don't mind my asking, what had you so distracted?"

"Home," Ryan answered plainly, tilting his chin up to fully meet the commander's gaze. "I was wondering of how your daughter and my wife are getting along. It's been nearly two months since we left them, Mr. Johnson."

Taking a seat beside him, the graying man sighed, crossed his short yet still strong legs out in front of him, and nodded his head in agreement. "That it has, and I miss my Dolley, just as I imagine you're missing Mrs. Atwood as well."

"I'm sure they're fine without us."

"That's not what I said," Gideon objected, eyeing him carefully. "There's an immeasurable difference between longing for someone's company and hoping for the best." He paused momentarily before continuing. "Have you received any return letters yet from your wife?"

"No, Sir."

"Well," he tried to reassure his personal secretary, standing up once again and offering Ryan a fatherly pat on the shoulder. "I'm sure she'll write you as soon as she gets the chance, and, maybe, if we're lucky, the notes will actually get delivered. Start packing up, though, son," the elderly gentleman directed patiently. "We'll be moving out again in the morning."

And going further away from home in the process.