Felicity: An American Girl Romance PT3, Ch10: The Family Forsythe
Author's Warning: Look, people, I might as well tell you now that things will get worse before they get better for Felicity. That is the way of dramatic stories. I'm getting further and further into sensitive details, so if you find that you are too uncomforable, stop reading it. Just quit. If you choose to continue, then on your own head be it. I began writing this story to suit only myself, and I am THRILLED to have picked up some readers along the way. Thank you, all of you who have been with me thus far and are still willing to continue. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you. But I want to make it perfectly clear that I did not set out to write a grown-up Felicity and Ben story for the sake of being explicit or offending a bunch of people. I also want it known that even I have limits as to how far I'll go in writing this tale of their grown-up experiences. I'm not going to have Felicity scarred for life or anything depressing like that, okay? One of the goals of American Girl is to help girls feel empowered and independent. I'm not going to take that away just because I'm writing a grown-up story. This is, on all accounts, an adult story with adult situations, and if you are uncomfortable with that, then please, don't read anymore.
But if you are okay with an adult story, then by all means, keep reading!
Of course Felicity and Lettie were aware that Forsythe could not be put off forever, but they had yet to be allowed out on the grounds together. Felicity was finally allowed out of her room to roam the manor and become acquainted with, as Reginald put it, 'her woman's domain,' but this did not cheer her in the slightest. The manor's halls were bleak and shadowy, with aging portraits of unnamed faces looking grim and stony hung in every room. It made Felicity cringe loathfully inside herself to know that her own melancholy-faced portrait was to be added to the manor's morbid collection.
Who would have ever thought that my life would come to this? she had bitterly thought the many times she was forced to sit still in a super straight-backed position as the painter from London did his work. 'Tis as if I have become a member of the un-dead minions of lore, alive but dead. I am so far away from myself that I do not know who I am any more...
She did not get to feel sorry for herself for long when Lettie was with her. She was made to understand that she could never fathom all that the dark girl had to endure. Felicity learned through time spent alone with Lettie at night that the girl had only been twelve when she was brought here to England, stolen away from her peoples' village, where she had been maid to the village chief's daughter; a position highly coveted among the young girls and a position Lettie was fiercely proud of, for the chief's daughter regarded her as a sister and treated her as such. Her father had been the chief's most valued warrior, and Lettie herself had been betrothed to a handsome young warrior whom she had held tremendous affection for, even at such an age.
Felicity had been able to relate to that.
But then the white men came with muskets and chains, burned the village, killed those who fought back, and captured the women and children. Lettie never saw her family again. She was put aboard a ship in chains with many others of her race, taken to an island after countless days in the ships' crammed, deplorably-conditioned hold, then sold to the Forsythes, who in turn sold many but kept her along with a few others, and renamed her 'Letitia.' That soon changed to 'Lettie,' for the white people here seemed to be too lazy to even want to pronounce the name they forced upon her in full.
When Felicity inquired as to what her real name was, Lettie immediately turned fiery and defensive and said, "My name will never be uttered by the white tongue! They have taken my life from me. I will not allow them to speak the name of my soul!" This moved Felicity to tears, which, after fifteen minutes of wretched sobbing, prompted Lettie to push Felicity's shoulder (as the only gesture of comfort Lettie was comfortable with) and say, "But they will not have my soul. Nor will they yours."
Comforting a peculiar young white woman was something the slave-hardened girl had never had to do before. Lettie was doubly stunned when the emotional red-head flung her white arms around her dark neck and said "I owe you my life."
Apparently, neither one of them was accustomed to having a friend here.
Felicity had got to stroll the grounds of the place in the second week, but only arm-in-despicable arm with Reginald Forsythe himself, distracting herself from his ceaseless bragging on his imported plants and garden statues from Rome by looking about for a stone big enough to conk him with. As much as she wanted to strangle him with a length of thorny vine, she could not espy one of those, either.
She was taken to the Forsythe stables and shown his collection of pureblood horses, for he had recalled that she had an affection for horses in what he called her 'Williamsburg days.' Of course she immediately thought of Penny and Patriot, and tears threatened to burst from within, but she determinedly curled her fingernails into their already red-marked cuts in her palm and hated him all the more. He bribed her with one of his mares, a fine silvery colored creature he claimed came from the desert lands of the East, if she were to come to his bed that very evening.
"Are you not afraid I shall ride off with her?" Felicity teased through her veil of pretend flirtations.
"Oh goodness no," chuckled the weasel, patting her arm with too much familiarity. "Why, wherever would you go?"
That does not matter. Away from here is all that does, she replied mentally whilst twittering the most obnoxious laugh she could summon.
Of course her reply to the bribe was "Not yet, for I am almost finished with the gown I will wear for you," which led the disappointed and frustrated Forsythe to hope that this 'gown' (which did not exist in reality) was worth the wait. So he appealed to Lettie.
"Can you not use your influence to convince her that we should be consumating our marriage vows by now?" he inquired of the slave girl one evening after dinner.
"She must not be rushed," advised Lettie in her cool and mysterious voice. "Do you not know that when you remove a wild spirit against its will from a savage land it requires time to tame it? Do you not wish for her to be as you envisioned?"
"Well yes, but-"
"And you had already expected to have her whipped, no?"
"Well yes, but-"
Lettie's dark eyes held his small hazel ones with alarming calm and smooth iciness. "If you want her to be willing and submitting to you, then you must gain her trust, as she requires yours. There is no fast remedy for trust. If you give her time now, you will have the rest of your life with her later. Do you see?"
Forsythe had sighed. "Very well. You will, I assume, continue to council her...on my behalf as well as hers?"
"Yes," said Lettie smoothly. "And in the end, all will be as it should."
Unaware of the true prophecy behind her words, Reginald reluctantly gave in yet again, seeing as how it was Lettie who 'encouraged' his willful bride to come around to begin with.
Head servants such as Esmerelda and Genevieve showed obvious dislike for having to call Felicity 'Lady Forsythe' despite Felicity not likeing it any more than they did herself. The two maids had to treat her respectably, but they did not have to like it, and Felicity found this to go both ways as well. The other young black maids were wary of this new white mistress, but Felicity went out of her way to acknowledge them over Esmerelda and Genevieve, give them kind words and civil attention whenever she could. By the middle of the second week, she had made an unexpected ally out of the aging Pompey, who agreed to assist her and Lettie any way he could when 'the time came.'
Needless to say, the slaves of Forsythe Manor could accept Felicity a great deal more than they could the other whites they had to deal with, but of them all, Lettie seemed the only one to possess any spirit and bravery.
Close to the end of the second week, Felicity was eating with Forsythe in the big depressing dining room when she finally felt it safe to ask, " May I inquire something of you, Reginald?"
He looked up from his ornate china plate of mashed potatoes, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. He wiped his fingers along the dinner napkin stuffed ridiculously into his chin-high cravat as he studied her curiously, then replied with interest, "And whatever might that be, my dear angel?"
Everytime he called her that her stomach clenched in disgust. But she merely smiled and fluttered her eyelashes. "I was wondering if, mayhaps, Lettie could assist me in planting a bush of roses in the garden?"
This was certainly a request he had not been prepared for! He had been expecting her to ask any time now if she could write a letter to her parents, which he would have immediately said no to, due to not feeling that it was 'safe' enough, that she would have to be writing to inform her parents of the news that she was with child before he could allow her to write anything at all. But this, the planting of a rose bush? Clearly, he was amazed.
"A-A rose bush?" inquired he, to be sure he had heard her correctly.
"Yes," confirmed Felicity, unable to keep from squirming in her seat with anticipation of the answer. "Surely you must remember that when I-" Lord, how much more of this was she going to have to take? "-lived in Williamsburg *ahem* I was most fond of the flowers in my garden. I grew roses, pansies, daffodills and more, and I tended to them most ardently." She was trying so hard to keep the nervousness from her voice. He did not seem to respond well to nervousness.
"Why, Felicity, does my garden not agree with you? Is it not fine?"
If he considers dark plants and grey statues of women who look either sad or sick to be 'fine,' then he has the 'finest' garden in all of Creation! But she forced a shy smile and said, "Of course it is a very fine garden indeed, my lord. I was only hoping to contribute to it. Lettie says that very fine ladies keep magnificent bushes of roses here in England."
"Did she?" His eyebrows went up even further. Felicity wondered if they would continue on up his high forehead and slip under his wig's hairline. "I did not know Lettie possessed any knowledge of a garden whatsoever!"
Felicity tensed.
"One would never suspect it with that foul mood she usually carries. Ah well. 'Contribute,' did you say?"
"Yes. Seeing as how I am your wife now, I also thought 'twould be a lovely symbol of my contribution to our marriage." She badly wanted to gag over her own choice of words. "A rose to bloom just as a new marriage should."
"Ah, but Felicity, our marriage has yet to bloom in the appropriate way!" he told her slyly. "You have yet to contribute in the most important manner."
Felicity's inner frustrations were rising right along with her blood pressure. At length she said, "I am trying, Reginald. 'Tis not easy for me, can you not see? I need to feel loved by and safe with you before I can-can contribute...in that way."
Reginald reached over and squeezed her hand with an amorous look in his beady hazel eyes. She had to fight her own instinct not to yank her hand away in repulsion, nor grit her teeth openly when he said, "I will keep you perfectly safe within the confines of my very own arms, my angel."
Again she sighed, more agitated than anything else. She swallowed and tried again. "Please, Reginald, allow me this. Lettie truly is familiar with growing things and she will show me how to plant our roses." She forced her bile back down. "Yours and mine."
Ultimately, Forsythe shrugged, sighed lightly, whipped the napkin out of his cravat and dabbed his mouth with it. "It seems to be a simple request. Very well, Felicity. You may have your rose bushes. But I insist on choosing the color."
Wonderful, agreed Felicity impatiently. You may pick your color, pick everyone's wardrobe, you can even pick your nose for all I care! All that matters is that Lettie and I get outside together! "And what color do you desire, my lord?"
It obviously pleased him when she called him by his title. His mouth produced a small thoughtful crinkle. "I believe I shall like red. Yes, red- a dark, passionate red of some sort."
Figures, thought Felicity warily.
"Does red agree with you, my dear?"
"Of course. Red is lovely."
Forsythe nodded, very much pleased with this notion the more he mulled it over. "Excellent. Then I shall have my gardener purchase the finest seeds one can obtain when he goes into the city tomorrow to sell some of his goods."
Felicity smiled hopefully.
"But you cannot plant them just yet, my dear."
Her smile faded fast.
Forsythe chuckled. "Quite eager, are we? I'm afraid you will have to wait until the beginning of next week, for this weekend we are having guests!"
"Oh?"
"Indeed! I have invited the relatives to come and spend a few days with us in celebrating our union. The manor must be made ready for them in the next couple of days. Everyone shall get to meet you, and we will have music and festivities. My Aunt Dorcas is especially eager to meet you, so you must be on your very best behavior. She is quite fond of the theatre, so do not be surprised if we all attend a play at the Theatre Royal on King Street! 'Tis a lovely place, the Theatre Royal- I have been there many times myself. Did you know that it is closely modelled in likeness to the Drury Lane Theatre in London...?"
As he babbled on, Felicity's heart sank some, knowing she would have to wait yet some more for her and Lettie's chance to get outside. Never had her patience been so tested! And have to endure a house full of Forsythes? The very thought made her antsy. But then, a house full of people was bound to create plenty of distraction...
Wouldn't it?
That night, Felicity told Lettie about the relatives coming this weekend, and Lettie grew very silent- even more so than her usual quiet. She and Felicity sat in chairs before the fire in Felicity's room, making alterations to a plain cotton shift so that there would be some kind of 'proof' to show Forsythe sooner or later. As Felicity glanced sidelong at the very still dark girl, she had to wonder what it was about this news of the coming relatives that had Lettie as still as stone. Whatever it was, it was obviously not good.
Finally Lettie asked, "Did he say whop these 'relatives' are?"
Felicity looked deeply thoughtful and lowered the hem on the end of the gown she was working on. "At first I did not pay attention to his babbling because i was so disappointed at our dely in getting to go out to the garden together...but I seem to recall him mentioning aunts and uncles from his father's side...certainly did not mention his Aunt Lady templeton from virginia! Why, no! Couldn't have her come here, she knows me and she would have never allowed him to do the things he has done to me and my family had she known-"
"Did he give mention of any of his cousins?" Lettie interrupted impatiently, as if Felicity's answer was of the greatest importance.
"W-Well, yes, as a matter of fact, he did! He is expecting three of his lady cousins-"
'Did he say anything about his male cousins?" Lettie interjected again hastily.
Now Felicity was worried. Looking at Lettie, she saw the flames of the fire reflected in the girl's black eyes and it gave her a shudder to see the intensity in them. Slowly, hesitantly, she replied, "Only that there were a few of his bachelor cousins that would not be able to attend because of their prior engagements..." Felicity watched Lettie turn her dark, unreadable face toward the fire in eerie contemplation.
After a minute, Felicity asked cautiously, "Is there something wrong, Lettie? I mean, is there something about these relatives that I should know about?"
Lettie turned back to her, expression having gone blank again, voice back to being flat and unaffected. "There is nothing about them you need to know. Depending on who arrives."
Was that a hint? Felicity wondered. "Like who?"
"If there is need for you to be concerned, I will tell you."
"But I'm already concerned. Can you not tell me now?"
"You ask many questions for a white woman."
Felicity sighed gruffly. " 'Tis the best way to find things out!" Lettie had quickly gone back to sewing lace on the gown, but Felicity was not ready to let the subject drop. Something had struck a nerve in the mysterious slave girl and now Felicity wanted desperately to know what it was. "Will you not tell me anything at all?"
"Work on your end," Lettie instructed passively. "We must have this done so that we can have something to show him how time was spent."
In the next few days, Forsythe Manor was bustling with nervous activity. Maids, slaves, butlers and cooks were busy with Reginald's orders while Felicity stood back at first and watched, amused with how he no sooner gave an order than Smedley came along and gave another. If it was to Esmerelda or Genevieve, Felicity smirked. If multiple commands were given to the already overwhelmed slaves, she secretly assisted them. Fortunately, the lord of the manor was too busy to notice her helping his slaves clean, polish or sweep, but unfortunately, footmen were posted at all entrances and exits, so she and Lettie would not be able to slip out amidst all the pre-arrival fuss.
Lettie seemed to be just as on edge as Forsythe. Whenever she and felicity were near enough to overhear a conversation about the relatives, the slave girl immediately halted all movement and stared, obviously straining to hear every little word. It reminded Felicity of Penny, in the beginning, when the beautiful copper mare was suspicious and wary of everyone and everything. But still Lettie did not give the anxious red-head an explanation, so Felicity listened in along with her, trying to pick up on an idea of what had Lettie so antsy.
When Felicity asked one of the other slave maids why Lettie was so apprehensive about certain forsythe relatives, the young black girl who's English was clear replied in the lowest, most worried of voices, "We do not speak of it, Ma'am. It is not for you to know."
Which frustrated Felicity all the more. Apparently there was something about Reginald's relatives that the household slaves were quite uncomfortable with, and she was determined to find out what it was. Questioning Reginald would be no use since he would just change the subject or dismiss her concerns all together. She would just have to rely on her powder-muddled senses as much as she could to uncover what secret was lurking here.
Felicity did remind herself mentally that she didn't have to make this mystery her business. She didn't have to care one way or the other. When she first arrived she would have been determined not to care! But being miserable, lonely, and cooped up in a dreary cage-of-a-manor was something that drove her to reach out, to care about those who were suffering, too. Lettie was a good influence in helping her control her emotions, for Felicity (being a learned observant of people) could see quite plainly that the mysterious slave girl was quite a master in keeping emotions locked away.
'They' began arriving on a Saturday morning, just before noon, on a cold, windy January day: a carriage bearing Reginald's fifty-something Aunt Sophie Forsythe-Midgewater, her husband Lester and three obnoxiously snickering, bony, long-nosed pre-teen daughters who wore varying shades of green. Carriage Number Two bore the older, greying Aunt Lila Forsythe-Fimple, who's face seemed to be set in a permanent expression of disapproval, and her stiff-backed husband Hubert, who was a skinny chap with a hanging gut. And last, there was carriage Number Three which bore Uncle Fletcher Forsythe; a well-built, stony-faced man wearing a short peruke wig. Accompanying him was his sister Dorcas Forsythe-Ambrose along with a thirty-something-looking woman Felicity assumed was Dorcas's daughter.
From Felicity's room, she and Lettie watched them emerge from their carriages with a bevy of footmen to unload their parcels, lend hands and hold reins. Felicity did not let her curiosity show when it seemed that Lettie released a heavy sigh of relief. She gazed down at the arrivals and commented, "They all look so...snobbish. I do not see how they could be close to each other at all. What are they like, Lettie? How long do you think they will stay?"
"They are like him," Lettie murmured in her serious tone. "But they will not take to you- this they have already decided, because you are not like them. See the hesitation on their white faces? It is clear to assume that they do not really want to be here, but they were willing to come here, to be seen and to pass judgement, to ultimately return from where they came to speak of this visit to the white friends that are just like them. They will stay only long enough to eat plenty and express disapproval even more."
Felicity understood immediately. "That is what is called 'gossiping.' The Lord does not approve of it, but people do it anyway, whether they are aware of it or not. I myself can be held accountable for it at times."
"But you are a different white than they are."
Felicity glanced at her and smiled a little. Looking back out of the tall window, down at the coated, cloaked, wig-wearing arrivals, she asked, "All right, Lettie. Prepare me."
Lettie nodded approvingly. "Understand that you cannot appeal to any of them for help. They will not approve of you- to them you are an unworthy possession belonging to a relative they do not hold in high regard to begin with, because of his strangeness. They will not desire a scandle in assisting the runaway wife of a family member they know is unstable in his mind."
Felicity nodded.
"The family's slave-business is in jeopardy already as well. They will not desire more attention put upon them than what already is. Do you see this? They do not even have much regard for their own."
Felicity already had that feeling. "I wondered if they would be a different sort of people than he, but I do not expect help from any of them. Just looking at them gives me cold shivers."
"You and I will be fine without them," Lettie told her, unmistakable defiance and hatred in her mysterious accent as she too looked down upon the Forsythes. "This place will be full of whites disliking one of the other, so much that we will not need seeds to provide us a way out into the garden."
Felicity wanted to shriek with joy.
CHAPTER FINISHED!