Chapter Two: The Hardest Pain to Bear
Mary and her father went to James's house that Friday night, and soon afterwards, James asked Mr. Browning for permission to court his daughter. Two years passed thus, and James was the happiest man on earth. His mother no longer nagged at him constantly, his father had elevated his status at the shipping company, and, above all this, he had Mary Elizabeth. It was true that she seemed completely unsuited as a partner for him, being in truth not much more than shallow, society-loving coquette. Coming from any other, her insipid remarks would have bored James, perhaps even causing him to be rude and short, but coming from his Mary Elizabeth, James deemed them to be words of wisdom fit to be ranked with those of Galileo and Aristotle.
This idyllic existence was not meant to last, however. One day in the early winter of the year 1747, James walked to Mary Elizabeth's house, flowers in one hand, a small box in another, grave thoughts in his seventeen-year-old head. His mother was preparing a special dinner tonight, even though (or perhaps because) James had taken to dining with her regularly. Perhaps this, too, was because of Mary Elizabeth. Perhaps he did not so much mind his mother's petty faults and grievances because he saw them reflected in Mary's own frailty, insufficiency, and somewhat blatant insipidity.
Of course Mary was no rude, coarse servant girl; she was quite the educated, cultured society girl with refined taste. Mary Elizabeth Browning could pour tea and play her cards as well as any of her contemporaries, but, like them, she could also hide what brains she had and chatter for hours about nothing whatsoever. James could not really understand why he loved her, or at least why he loved her so much; all he knew was that the emptier her comments became, the fuller his heart swelled. Maybe it was one of those insane cases in which opposites really do attract, and that with a passion, or maybe it was just that his mother's words had finally begun to influence him; whatever it was, James Arthur Dawley knew that he would sail to the edge of the world and jump off if it would bring a smile to his Mary Elizabeth's face.
James gulped nervously. What he was about to do was far more frightening than jumping off the edge of the earth.
The young man knocked on the door and was duly admitted by a servant. The maid, who was obviously a mulatto, suggested calling Mary, but James nodded his head nervously and said he would like to speak to her father instead; James and Mr. Browning had business to discuss.
The young servant girl, who could not have been but a few years older than James, smiled knowingly and went to fetch the master of the house.
James stayed in Mr. Browning's office for two long, grueling hours, but when he finally exited it he had a smile of immense relief and crazy joy on his face. He immediately headed toward the parlor, where he knew Mary Elizabeth would be working at her embroidery at that time.
James opened the door slowly and with an extreme amount of care, in order to muffle its squeaking, and peeked inside the room. He smothered a little sigh of mingled joy and expectation, ducking quickly behind the door as Mary turned her head slightly.
The object of James's affections was sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, her embroidery in her lap, her eyes staring off into empty space. James grinned and tiptoed across the room silently-an amazing feat in itself due to his high-heeled shoes. He stood quietly behind Mary Elizabeth for a few minutes, trying to collect himself but being distracted by the girl in front of him. At long last he decided he was ready and, with a slight shudder of anticipation, placed his hand on Mary's shoulder.
Mary Elizabeth started and turned around.
"Jack!" she shrieked, giggling. "You tease! Why did you not send Martha to inform me you were here? I did not expect you today!"
Jack buried his face in her hair, muttering something about a surprise. He then knelt beside her, snaked his right arm around her neck, and, with the flat, rectangular box in front of her, opened it with his left hand.
Mary gasped; Jack took the diamond-studded pearl necklace out of the box and asked her if she liked it.
"Like it? Jack, oh Jack! It's beautiful! But. . .why? New Year's is not for several months!"
Jack said nothing, merely turned the necklace over and put it in her hands, with its inscription facing her.
"For a beautiful lady, a beautiful betrothal gift."
Mary looked up at Jack with wonder and he smiled and nodded his head. Mary Elizabeth smiled.
The wedding was to be in April of the next year, which would give Mr. Browning and his daughter time to go to the colonies and see some new land which he had just been given; this, along with some land in England and money would form Mary Elizabeth's dowry.
Four months after the Brownings set off on the Bonny Martha, James was sitting in his father's office, calmly discussing a partnership which, two years before, he would have thought impossible. James's eighteenth birthday was approaching, and his father thought that a partnership would be a fitting present, as well as a conciliatory gift to Mr. Browning, who was allowing his sixteen-year-old daughter to marry several years younger than was normal.
James smiled as he thought of Mary. She was the love of his life, and he was just as willing now as he had been when he asked her to marry him, two months ago, to do anything for her. Heavens, he thought, chuckling inwardly, I would even become a pirate for her! James put his hand across his mouth to keep from laughing and ended up making a choking, gurgling sound. Mr. Dawley looked at his son, a concerned look on his face.
"James, are you quite all right? Maybe you should step outside for a little air-you look a tad faint."
James assented and stood up to go out. When he opened the door, however, a young assistant clerk, whom James had often seen working in the lower house, ran into him. "I beg your pardon, sir, but I have news of the Bonny Martha."
James nodded and stepped back into the room, motioning the nervous clerk to sit down. The Bonny Martha was the ship that Mary Elizabeth and her father had set out on; it was also one of Mr. Dawley's ships.
"What is it? Has she reached the Americas?" asked Mr. Dawley, impatient for both his and James's sake to hear about the ship.
The boy, who could not have been more than fourteen, looked up nervously. "We-we just heard the news from the docks, s-sir. The Bonny Martha. . ." here the boy darted a nervous look at James. "the Bonny Martha was attacked by the pirate Rinnelli several weeks ago." James sat down in a chair, hard, as the words continued unmercifully. "The pirates killed all the gentlemen and shanghaied the crew. One of the male passengers jumped off-board before the ship was blown up and was picked up by a passing merchant vessel. He told them everything, even of how the women. . ."
James looked up as the boy stopped. Jack Dawley's face was pale and his queue had come untied, letting his dark hair frame his face. He lowered his head into his hands, gritted his teeth, and murmured that the boy should continue.
The boy gave James a sad, sympathetic glance before finishing. "The women were taken captive for the pirates's pleasure."
Mary and her father went to James's house that Friday night, and soon afterwards, James asked Mr. Browning for permission to court his daughter. Two years passed thus, and James was the happiest man on earth. His mother no longer nagged at him constantly, his father had elevated his status at the shipping company, and, above all this, he had Mary Elizabeth. It was true that she seemed completely unsuited as a partner for him, being in truth not much more than shallow, society-loving coquette. Coming from any other, her insipid remarks would have bored James, perhaps even causing him to be rude and short, but coming from his Mary Elizabeth, James deemed them to be words of wisdom fit to be ranked with those of Galileo and Aristotle.
This idyllic existence was not meant to last, however. One day in the early winter of the year 1747, James walked to Mary Elizabeth's house, flowers in one hand, a small box in another, grave thoughts in his seventeen-year-old head. His mother was preparing a special dinner tonight, even though (or perhaps because) James had taken to dining with her regularly. Perhaps this, too, was because of Mary Elizabeth. Perhaps he did not so much mind his mother's petty faults and grievances because he saw them reflected in Mary's own frailty, insufficiency, and somewhat blatant insipidity.
Of course Mary was no rude, coarse servant girl; she was quite the educated, cultured society girl with refined taste. Mary Elizabeth Browning could pour tea and play her cards as well as any of her contemporaries, but, like them, she could also hide what brains she had and chatter for hours about nothing whatsoever. James could not really understand why he loved her, or at least why he loved her so much; all he knew was that the emptier her comments became, the fuller his heart swelled. Maybe it was one of those insane cases in which opposites really do attract, and that with a passion, or maybe it was just that his mother's words had finally begun to influence him; whatever it was, James Arthur Dawley knew that he would sail to the edge of the world and jump off if it would bring a smile to his Mary Elizabeth's face.
James gulped nervously. What he was about to do was far more frightening than jumping off the edge of the earth.
The young man knocked on the door and was duly admitted by a servant. The maid, who was obviously a mulatto, suggested calling Mary, but James nodded his head nervously and said he would like to speak to her father instead; James and Mr. Browning had business to discuss.
The young servant girl, who could not have been but a few years older than James, smiled knowingly and went to fetch the master of the house.
James stayed in Mr. Browning's office for two long, grueling hours, but when he finally exited it he had a smile of immense relief and crazy joy on his face. He immediately headed toward the parlor, where he knew Mary Elizabeth would be working at her embroidery at that time.
James opened the door slowly and with an extreme amount of care, in order to muffle its squeaking, and peeked inside the room. He smothered a little sigh of mingled joy and expectation, ducking quickly behind the door as Mary turned her head slightly.
The object of James's affections was sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, her embroidery in her lap, her eyes staring off into empty space. James grinned and tiptoed across the room silently-an amazing feat in itself due to his high-heeled shoes. He stood quietly behind Mary Elizabeth for a few minutes, trying to collect himself but being distracted by the girl in front of him. At long last he decided he was ready and, with a slight shudder of anticipation, placed his hand on Mary's shoulder.
Mary Elizabeth started and turned around.
"Jack!" she shrieked, giggling. "You tease! Why did you not send Martha to inform me you were here? I did not expect you today!"
Jack buried his face in her hair, muttering something about a surprise. He then knelt beside her, snaked his right arm around her neck, and, with the flat, rectangular box in front of her, opened it with his left hand.
Mary gasped; Jack took the diamond-studded pearl necklace out of the box and asked her if she liked it.
"Like it? Jack, oh Jack! It's beautiful! But. . .why? New Year's is not for several months!"
Jack said nothing, merely turned the necklace over and put it in her hands, with its inscription facing her.
"For a beautiful lady, a beautiful betrothal gift."
Mary looked up at Jack with wonder and he smiled and nodded his head. Mary Elizabeth smiled.
The wedding was to be in April of the next year, which would give Mr. Browning and his daughter time to go to the colonies and see some new land which he had just been given; this, along with some land in England and money would form Mary Elizabeth's dowry.
Four months after the Brownings set off on the Bonny Martha, James was sitting in his father's office, calmly discussing a partnership which, two years before, he would have thought impossible. James's eighteenth birthday was approaching, and his father thought that a partnership would be a fitting present, as well as a conciliatory gift to Mr. Browning, who was allowing his sixteen-year-old daughter to marry several years younger than was normal.
James smiled as he thought of Mary. She was the love of his life, and he was just as willing now as he had been when he asked her to marry him, two months ago, to do anything for her. Heavens, he thought, chuckling inwardly, I would even become a pirate for her! James put his hand across his mouth to keep from laughing and ended up making a choking, gurgling sound. Mr. Dawley looked at his son, a concerned look on his face.
"James, are you quite all right? Maybe you should step outside for a little air-you look a tad faint."
James assented and stood up to go out. When he opened the door, however, a young assistant clerk, whom James had often seen working in the lower house, ran into him. "I beg your pardon, sir, but I have news of the Bonny Martha."
James nodded and stepped back into the room, motioning the nervous clerk to sit down. The Bonny Martha was the ship that Mary Elizabeth and her father had set out on; it was also one of Mr. Dawley's ships.
"What is it? Has she reached the Americas?" asked Mr. Dawley, impatient for both his and James's sake to hear about the ship.
The boy, who could not have been more than fourteen, looked up nervously. "We-we just heard the news from the docks, s-sir. The Bonny Martha. . ." here the boy darted a nervous look at James. "the Bonny Martha was attacked by the pirate Rinnelli several weeks ago." James sat down in a chair, hard, as the words continued unmercifully. "The pirates killed all the gentlemen and shanghaied the crew. One of the male passengers jumped off-board before the ship was blown up and was picked up by a passing merchant vessel. He told them everything, even of how the women. . ."
James looked up as the boy stopped. Jack Dawley's face was pale and his queue had come untied, letting his dark hair frame his face. He lowered his head into his hands, gritted his teeth, and murmured that the boy should continue.
The boy gave James a sad, sympathetic glance before finishing. "The women were taken captive for the pirates's pleasure."