Disclaimer: All original characers are mine, everything else should be packaged and shipped to Disney.
Book One: Upstate Races
Chapter 3~ the real third chapter, last time was a little oops
She spoke faster than any newsboy he'd ever worked with. And it was as unclear as the bustle of languages spoken at market. But she seemed content with his occasional nod and smile so he did just that. If there happened to be a pause in the conversation, he'd simply look to Mr. Webster, but he doubted the chance.
At the moment she was recalling her school year in Boston. and Susie Martin wore this horrible tangerine lace deal so Freddy decided to stop calling by her house and she thought her whole world was over but then Diane—her father invented sugar!—was caught with that horrible Mason boy
Fanny, please, Mrs. Webster ceased her daughter's rambling, noticing how the other guests had adopted glazed expressions, enunciate your words, dear.
Annabelle burst into the room, pushing open the door with her back and turning with a pitcher to refill any of the empty water glasses. Making sure that her parents and the Webster's weren't looking, she stuck her tongue out at Roz, the tie he wore making his ears look too large. It was strange to be serving her own family, that was true. Normally she worked in the kitchen helping her mother prepare the meal for that night. But after learning of Fanny's dinner being rescheduled, she'd offered to serve and supervise the kitchen so that her mother could enjoy the meal. She figured she got the best of both: avoiding the torture that was Fanny's voice but still sampling the delicious meal her mother had crafted earlier in the afternoon.
In the pause, Mr. Webster took the opportunity to address Mr. Mooring. It's a shame Rose couldn't make it tonight.
Yes, Tom too. Mr. Mooring cleared his throat, rubbing quickly at the tightly buttoned collar of his shirt, Rose is so close to delivery that any movement is quite uncomfortable. Which is too bad, Tom spends most of his time fretting over her.
They're such a nice couple, Added Mrs. Webster, They'll be quite happy once Tom's practice is established, I'm sure.
Oh, but Mother, New York City is the place to be if you want to be a successful doctor. Elizabeth said that her father made twice
Fanny was silenced once again by Annabelle, her presence related to the next course she was serving. Standing behind Fanny's shoulder, waiting for the hostess to taste the course before it was served, as she had requested and done for all the other dishes, Annabelle scoffed lightly, Everyone needs a doctor, no matter how much money they have. Jack had noticed that Annabelle felt no need to censor herself around Fanny, unlike many of Fanny's other acquaintances. Even Fanny's parents seemed to fear their daughter.
As usual, Fanny's nose turned up slightly as Annabelle's form loomed over her. She chose to ignore the jab and focus on the final dish: the lobsters. I'll take that one, Annabelle. Fanny pointed to one of the creatures and Annabelle slipped it onto her plate, waiting impatiently to the side as Fanny delicately ate a piece, everyone else at the table watching. This is fine.
With that, Annabelle began to serve the rest of the guests, kissing her Grandfather on his cheek quickly and slipping him the largest lobster. When she came to Jack, she had trouble with some tangled claws, delaying her presence next to him. He grabbed the opportunity, having wished she could share the entire meal with them, and whispered, How do you eat these exactly?
A smile slid across Annabelle's lips as she kept her head low while whispering, Just watch Mr. Webster. It's this fork, She knocked the third fork in before continuing down the table.
Of course Fanny had seen, she'd been watching the quick conversations between Annabelle and Jack the entire night, anger slowly growing from within her ordinarily flighty head. Annabelle, dear, Fanny's voice, soft and polite at first, called the attention of all at the table. But they were intimate enough to recognize the undertone and the way the end of her nose twitched with distaste. Why don't you bring out the chocolate mousse now,
But you've just had your lobsters, dear, reminded Mrs. Webster.
Yes, but they're a little off, Fanny snubbed her mother's practical advice, and it's the chocolate everyone's waiting for. Am I right? She clapped her hands happily, searching the faces of everyone else at the table while Annabelle disappeared inside. She returned a minute later, carrying the very large dessert. It had been made in a serving bowl with a radius of Annabelle's arm and the depth of her hand—a special present from Fanny to her parents, although purchased with her parents money. It looked ridiculous, filled to the brim with chocolate mousse that Letty had been yearning to swim in. But Fanny had requested it, and as Mrs. Mooring had reminded Annbelle over and over earlier, what Miss Fanny wanted, she got.
She started towards Fanny, passing behind Mrs. Webster who sat at one end of the table. Oh no, Fanny held up her hand, I won't be having any. Have to watch my figure. The ladies at the table tittered with laughter, Mrs. Webster forcing the effort as much as Mrs. Mooring.
Annabelle swung around in the opposite direction, serving a healthy portion onto her mother's plate. She sat next to Mrs. Webster, Letty in between her and Jack followed by Kloppman seated at the end, next to Mr. Webster. Each were served with Mr. Webster asking for a second helping after noticing the strain it was for Annabelle to carry the bowl. Mr. Mooring followed Mr. Webster's lead, along with Race and Roz. That left Mrs. Webster, Fanny the only seat in between. As Annabelle prepared to serve Mrs. Webster she balanced the bowl on her hip, giving her forearms a rest for a moment. And it was in that moment, before Annabelle's typically quick hands could catch the dish, that the dessert toppled into Mrs. Webster's lap, spattering everyone in a three foot radius.
Oh, Mrs. Webster, Mrs. Mooring jumped from her seat, helping the woman stand while Annabelle scooped up the bowl and tried to push as much mousse back in as she could. I'm so sorry, your dress
It's ruined! All heads whipped back to Fanny, now standing also and screaming at the top of her lungs. Your dress is ruined mother and it's all her fault. A scrawny hand pointed in Annabelle's direction, all eyes following also, watching silently as some mousse plopped onto her shoulder, having slide off her hair. That little stable rat, coming in here and ruining that beautiful dress I gave you all because she hates me The rambling continued, reaching a high pitched whining, pushing Fanny's occasional tantrums to a new level. She finished with a heavy sigh, setting her shoulders straight and addressing Annabelle. This is unacceptable. Apologize.
Annabelle squinted her gaze, knowingly positively that Fanny had bumped the bowl. Any amount of remorse she'd felt vanished as Fanny raised her nose and treated Annabelle like the low level servant she considered everyone to be. Mr. and Mrs. Webster appreciated the time and energy the Mooring family combined to running such a lovely home, treating them with respect. But Fanny, ever since she could walk and push Annabelle out of the way, had made it perfectly clear that outside the Webster land, the world saw them to be from two different levels. And Annabelle had had it.
her mother's terse voice broke into her daze. Apologize to Mrs. Webster.
She turned to face Mrs. Webster, noting how fragile the lady looked, just standing there helplessly as pudding covered her bare shoulders. Mrs. Webster, I'm so sorry She turned back to Fanny, So sorry that your daughter had to grow into the most ridiculous, stuck up The anger in her made the words rushing from her mouth overstep and she fumbled momentarily before outbursting suddenly, SLUT I'd ever had the displeasure of laying my eyes on. Her hands flew to her side, clenching in rage and dropping the rest of the mousse on the rug. The stables, she continued, mimicking the way Fanny had pronounced it, Are too good for you.
With that she turned, stepped passed the other servants who had been called to help clean, and pushed through the swinging door that attached the kitchen to the dining room. Silence filled the air, the Webster's knowing that what Annabelle had done was inappropriate from an employer's point of view, but silently cheering at how she'd put Fanny in her place. Mr. Mooring was the first to speak, standing by his wife and placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder to stop her blood pressure from rocketing her through the roof. Miss Fanny, Mrs. Webster, he nodded politely to each lady. I'm very sorry for what has happened here tonight. Annabelle, well
She should be punished! Fanny cried, flopping down in her chair and sniffling.
Jack shook his head, thinking to himself, Such a good actress.'
Mr. Mooring glanced at his wife briefly before agreeing, Of course, we'll see to it right now. Excuse us. Both husband and wife bowed out of the door their daughter had exited moments earlier.
Letty, before her mouth could cause anymore trouble, was escorted home by her grandfather, leaving the Websters, Jack, Roz and Race to sit awkwardly while the rest of the staff cleaned the rooming, pretending not to be listening to the raised voices in the next room.
Ah, um, Miss Fanny smacked at the hand waiting to catch the dollop of pudding hanging from her forehead. She flew to her feet, exiting the room with her mother right behind her.
Mr. Webster cleared his throat and stood from the table, the rest of the young men following him as they'd been told to. Well, let's call it a night, shall we. Before it gets anymore He trailed off as he turned to go upstairs but Jack caught the last word mumbled from his lips and the smile now across them.
How're your hands holding up Kelly? Jack looked in the direction of his new acquaintance, another field hand by the name of Piper. He was a lanky boy, a couple years Jacks junior, but who carried himself like a man of forty. It was obvious he'd grown up on a farm. His father was an old friend of Mr. Mooring and had settled on Webster land a couple years earlier to help Mr. Mooring establish a healthy set of fields that could wield any crop planted in it's soil.
Already at a young age Piper was a self-proclaimed chain smoker, hacking up dry dust from the field between his next smoke. But Jack liked him well enough, the boy's energy and wit reminding him of Spot.
Jack held his hands out in front of him, palms facing the clean starry sky. With one of his fingers he delicately traced the sores on his hands, his attempts to bandage them failing miserably. Are they supposed to be this cut?
Piper reached over and looked at Jack's broken palms, scowling to himself, Ah, that's nothing. You just ain't used to hard work, that's all.
I ain't use to farm work. Jack challenged, resting his head against the side of the house and gazing at the sky. At night was when he noticed the difference between the city and country. There were more stars. Already he'd counted 5289, a mindless task but one that passed the time as the four of them waited by the Webster servant quarters. I've had my share of hard work, thank you very much.
You come to the city, we'll show you two a good time. Race inhaled sharply on his cigar.
Roz laughed, kicking at the dirt beneath his feet. I ain't leaving here, you kidding.
Why's dat? It a free country ain't it. Asked Race from where he now lay on the grass, blowing smoke rings into the sky.
His father runs this place. Piper explained, as if the answer were an obvious one. Roz is next in line.
Since when does it say you gotta do what your old man does. Race countered.
Roz laughed lightly, walking into the grass, feet end to end and arms out to the side as if he were balancing on a thin wire. My father's been with the Websters since he was our age, just a messenger boy in the city for the Old Man himself. He moved us up here cause he was promised a better position. He jumped into the air, spinning and landing on that imaginary wire once again. Mr. Webster's in town most of the time but he wanted this place to run smoothly. Pa's in charge of the stables and he hired the men who work with the crops and in the blacksmith's shop. He raised his hand up to Piper who slapped it obediently, Jack wincing at the sound and imaging how his own hands would have stung from such a slap. We've got ourselves a nice tiny town up here. Why'd you wanna leave, I don't know.
I can see that. Jack contemplated the country silence of night, flicking his cigarette into the shadows and plunging his hands into his pockets.
Cowboy's always yearned for da country.
Piper leaned forward, looking down the line of bodies to where Race still remained on the ground.
Roz agreed, echoing Piper's question. Yea, why you always calling him that?
Before Race could launch into an exaggerated version of Jack's past, including the strike and his carriage ride with Roosevelt, Annabelle immerged from the side door. In her arms she carried the laundry bag, the ruined skirt no doubt inside. She hugged the bag as if it protected her and damned her all at once. Although it was obvious she noticed the boys she chose not to stop walking.
Only when Roz whistled did she turn, still silently brooding. Roz moved forward, whispering to his sister things that the other boys felt no need to hear. No doubt he was asking just how severe her punishment had become.
She stepped away, turning her head to stare at the cool grass. You can still get in some practicing, the moon's shining exactly on the ring.
Nah, it don't feel right. Roz mumbled, stubbing out the cigarette he'd been weaning.
She propped the bag on her hip, the flash of fire in her eyes igniting the normal Annabelle for just a moment. Don't slack because of my mistake. You're not being punished. Roz nodded, turning back to the three who pretended not to be listening. Grabbing at a bottle of liquor he headed in the direction of the ring, Piper and Race trailing behind.
Jack was about to follow when he noticed Annabelle watching him. He cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to pick the right words to say. I saw her do it.
She shrugged, a bitter smile across her lips. I should have been expecting it.
But it ain't right, you getting punished. I can tell your father if you think
It won't help, she looked to the sky, shaking her head. You'll make it worse, in fact. Besides, she's right, maybe it's time I start acting proper.
You don't mean that.
She shrugged. All I know is that you've gotta make sure that friend of yours helps Roz. If he wins this thing, he'll be big Her voice took on new energy as she spoke of the fair. I'll be around. They can't keep me under their noses forever.
The smile they shared, her eyes twinkling mischievously in the moonlight, made Jack laugh out loud. She turned then, heading back towards her house, the laundry piled on her shoulder.
But wait, she glanced over her right shoulder, spinning on her foot and walking backwards as he stepped forwards himself. You still owe me those lessons.
She chose not to answer, spinning back around again and disappearing from the stream of moonlight that seemed to have been following her. He watched until the rustle of her bare feet on the grass could no longer be heard, unaware that another less sympathetic pair of eyes watched them both from the terrace above.
AN: I just finished reading the second chapter of PPC by Shadowlands where they attack all Mary Sue type stories. It was a funny concept but damn, they use real stories! Harsh, man, all the way. But hilarious also as long as your story isn't the one they're bashing.
So now those two are sitting on either side of my shoulder while I write this next chapter, whispering and giggling about, yup, you guessed it, this story.
It is rather Mary Sue-ishisn't it. C'mon, be frank with meI can handle it.
Here goes, my best attempt at making this obviously Mary Sue tale defy the impossible worthy fanfic.
Wish me luck
