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They're posted on my profile under Story Soundtracks. Give it a listen if
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Ch. 9: In the Next Ten Years, Precisely
"Agatha Austen was a devoted wife, mother, and Head of the Austen Manor after the unfortunate death of Master Austen himself—"
Standing upon the hillside of the Austen family burial grounds, the family minister spoke of Agatha's strong will and unwavering faith. While it took time, she eventually found the strength to run the household with an iron fist. Sadly, by the following autumn, she fell ill to Scarlet Fever. I was five-and-twenty then; by my twenty-sixth birthday, we had lost her.
"Charlotte," Edward's hand pressed into the small of my back, "It's time." I nodded softly, following him to the grave Agatha was being lowered into. Once the coffin was safely inside, the minister spoke once more:
"Do you, Agatha's relatives, bear the responsibility of sending her spirit to Heaven in peace?" Edward nodded solemnly. The minister continued, "By clay, Adam was made in God's own image. And to clay, we must return."
I stood with Edward on one side; Jane and Megara stood opposite. At once, we all dropped the fresh earth we picked up from the grave dug. It fell upon Agatha's coffin; Jane was racked with sobs. Knowing her mother was finally gone, Megara held her sister tightly, hushing her softly.
"Darling," I touched Edward's arm softly, "Shall we?" He led the way to our carriage in silence.
The past ten years have been incongruent, and trying. After Tristan left my quarters at fateful day, it took me exactly five minutes to make my decision. I knew that, while a life with him would have been exciting, I could not condone the audacity of it all. I immediately left my quarters for Edward's, and accepted his proposal.
No one can own my path; I make my own decisions.
And yet—
I cannot help but feel if the decision I made was completely correct. Of course I love and care deeply for Edward; there is no fault in that logic. But I still tend to wonder. Megara, the self-proclaimed spinster, just held her thirty-second birthday this past month. She never married, inherited her share of her father's will, and gallivants across the continents to her heart's desire.
She commands her own destiny.
Do I?
Ever since I left my life in London, how many decisions made were my complete own? How many of them were just an effected scapegoat to avoid a given situation? How many of them were directly placed in a path of love?
Following my marriage to Edward, I never questioned it. I never questioned my future life as an Austen; I craved it. Ever since Agatha had put me into my first dress of expensive fabrics, I knew that I desired their life. I could appropriate myself to being their maid; yet, I longed to be treated as an equal among them.
But, who have I become since? A loving wife, a caring sister; what have I sacrificed in life? Who would I have been had I met Tristan for his carriage that morning? Who even would I be had I defied my mother, and snuck away to work with my twin and father?
Where has Sharpay gone?
Am I simply Charlotte now?
..:….:..
"The summer festival is upon us!" Jane burst into my chambers, full of excitement, "Traveling performers from all across the seas will be in Saint Ridge this evening! Isn't this exciting!"
"I can see why you'd find this attractive." I sighed wistfully, "To be young and beguiling again."
"Oh come now, sister," She always pronounces it like a dream of hers had finally come true, "You're only three years my senior! We're practically the same person."
"Somehow, I still see you're as romantic as ever."
"Are you not? You've lived a very charmed life. How is that not romantic?"
"Charmed you say," I sighed once more, concentrating back on times when I wasn't so morally conflicted. Gaining what I desired, I lost my heart in the process. Tristan was correct on one plane; though I always desired the Austen life, they were never like me. And, to a certain fault, I used to not be like them, "I've never given it much thought."
There was a glimmer in her emerald eyes, "I'm sure the thought never crossed your mind." She almost jumped to a start when Edward entered our shared room, "Oh! Brother!"
"Jane, pestering your sister yet again?"
Sister…
"Of course not! I was gunning Charlotte into joining me to go to the festival."
Ten years, and the word still sounds foreign in my mind.
"Well," Edward smiled softly to me, "Will you accompany your sister to the festival this evening?"
"Hmmm?" I stared into him oddly, "Oh! Of course, darling. Anything for my baby sister." Jane clapped eagerly; Edward kept his gaze upon me in slight concern. Once the sun had hung low in the sky, we set off for Saint Ridge.
..:….:..
"Isn't it all so grand, Charlotte?" Jane smiled in wide curiosity, "It's like stepping into a novelist's grand narrative!"
The streets of Saint Ridge were abashed in different colors, sights, and sounds. Many instruments could be heard gallivanting through the pathways with men and women, alike, dancing gaily through them. Vendors selling fabrics, food, and knick-knacks from around the globe were situated in any available space. It was truly another world separate from ours.
"Come!" Jane laughed in delight, leading the way through the explosion of culture. As she stopped to check a nearby stall's wears, I leaned against its support beam to catch my breath.
"You are confused, yes?" A strikingly stunning woman revealed herself from two stalls over, "Lost? Finding yourself at an impass?"
As she approached, I visibly became uncertain, "H-How did you—"
She smiled softly, "I see things. Things that most others cannot." She whisked her hand to a dark colored tent on the other side of the street, "I can help you, if you let me."
I hesitated before turning to Jane, "I'm going to be over there." I motioned to the tent, "Wait here for me?"
"Of course." She nodded before turning back to a rack of spices.
The woman led the way to the inside of her tent. "High Priestess Kelsey Chovani?" I quipped, remembering the sign posted atop the entrance.
"Yes, I am Chovani." She smiled whilst closing the fabric-made door, "The gypsy magic runs thick in our blood.
"Magic?" I gasped as she lit several candles around the perimeter of the area, "I'm not sure—"
"Do not fear what you do not understand. Embrace it." She motioned to a table in the center of the room, "Sit." I did as she instructed; her following suit. "Hold out your hand."
She began tracing lines with her fingertips, "This, here, is your lifeline." She smiled cunningly, "Ah, you are one that has lived many, many lives. All increasing the anxiety you feel towards growing older. Is your birthday coming soon?"
"Within the month." I stared at her strangely, "How did you—"
"Twenty-seventh?" She smirked at my shocked expression, "They say that the twenty-seventh year is when Saturn returns to its spot in the sky the exact moment it was when someone is born. It causes chaos within the person; they begin to question everything around them. Especially, they question if their life has taken a path that it was meant for."
"You can tell all of that from one line in my hand?"
"I can sense it. Saturn is already beginning to have an effect on you."
I pulled my hand away, "Maybe we should move on to something else?"
She huffed in annoyance, "Fine." Her hands reached under the table, pulling out a deck of cards, "Shuffle." After I did my task, she split the deck into four equal parts, "Each pillar represents a faction of your path. The first," She flipped the top card of the left most deck over, "Is you. Your energy; your spiritual resonance." She smirked, "The High Priestess. Wisdom, silence, and tenacity. The second, your past; Justice. Equality, rightness. The third, your present; Death. End, mortality, destruction. The fourth, future; The Lovers. Attraction, love, beauty."
As I took in each of the cards, my confusion mounted more and more, "So, what does this all mean?"
"There is a war approaching," She spoke as if she was in a daze, "You are a strong woman in your own right, but this is a battle that will only end in loss. But what you will gain is what you've been missing all along."
"Which is what?"
"The answer to the questions you keep asking."
"I'm not sure if I believe all of…" I took in the small tent once more, "This."
"Does not matter," She shook her head as I started to rummage through my change purse, "Please, I need not your money. I was told to help you." She led me outside, "Good day, Charlotte."
"H-How did you—" When I went to pen the flap to her tent, she was gone.
..:….:..
"Did you enjoy the festivities, Charlotte?" Prue smiled to me, sipping tea daintily, "I've heard that Saint Ridge's festivals are quite an affair."
"Please," I looked to her in urgency; the following afternoon, we held our ritual of afternoon tea in the sun room, "Don't call me Charlotte, it sounds foreign on your tongue."
"You know I must," She smiled, almost in pride, "You're the Mistress now, since the estate was bequeathed to Edward."
"Yes, I suppose…"
"Which reminds me," She brought my attention back to her, "We haven't been able to find a new Cook to hire since our previous one passed on a few years ago."
"Yes?" I was reminded of lackluster dishes prepared by the wait staff, "What of it?"
"I heard that one of his old protégées had recently come back to England." Prue informed me, "Tristan Boulton?"
I gasped, almost dropping my tea cup, "T-Tristan?"
"Shocked I see," She smirked ruefully, "After gallivanting all across Europe for ten years, he's finally returned to Thornfield. And he's looking for work."
I tried my hardest to cover my visible state of unrest, "Is he now?"
"I can travel to Saint Ridge to call for an interview." Prue smiled slighty, "Well, what say you?"