It was late into the afternoon.
The familiar scent of freshly cut grass was in the air.
The little town was slowly coming to life underneath the blinding glare of the sun. The quaint buildings and dainty houses neatly covered in myriad shades of pastel coloured paint, as its people roam through its concrete sidewalks resplendent yet subtle and simple in appearance and amicable in pleasantries.
Esme had the, what her mother and Mrs Robinson considered pleasurein spending the lovely summer's afternoon with Mr Charles Evenson for a walk into town.
And in most cases of her young adolescent life, againsther will.
You could say she was sort of pushed into the situation or as Mrs Robinson described it with such finesse, absolutely ecstatic with excitement.
In reality, she felt like she was about to go to the gallows.
They had been walking for a good 3 hours, her pink parasol giving her cool shade from the harsh sun.
Charles had been at his most charming the whole way through. But it seemed that Esme was the one who did most of the talking.
He seemed quiet, reserved. And you can never quite tell what he is thinking.
When she would speak, he would look at her in the most peculiar of ways. It wasn't exactly, provocative or strange per se but there was something in that man's eyes that unnerved her.
They decided to take a little break as they reached the town park.
Esme walked ahead of him as she found a nice wooden bench underneath a large oak tree with its large branches outstretched, providing a significant amount of shade from the heat. She watched as he took the seat next to her.
He was dressed in a simple brown suit and tie. His hair brushed neatly away from his face.
A stranger could say he is handsome. With his youthful good looks, you could say he is harmless in fact. But for some odd reason, she had the feeling that she had to be wary around him.
He was looking out across the park. There weren't that many people that day just a few that were scattered densely around the area.
She took this chance to study him silently. In the brief moments she had spent with him, he seemed kind and courteous. But there's something in the man's character that she couldn't quite understand. She can't place her finger on what it was.
"So, Mr Evenson-"
"Please, by all means, call me Charles." A smile playing on his lips as he turned to look at her.
"Alright. Charles, how is it you came to know Mrs Robinson?" Esme asked as she fidgeted slightly with her white gloves.
"Mrs Robinson is my Aunt's cousin." He replied as he toyed with his bottom lip.
"I see. Where are your parents?"
"They died several years ago, never had the chance to even meet them." He replied casually.
She tilted her head slightly in confusion.
"How do you mean?"
"I was only 2. You have to forgive me, I can't quite remember much.
My Aunt and my parents including myself were on this boating excursion en route to visit an old friend of my parents.
Unfortunately the boat had an accident and sank halfway there. My Aunt and I were the only survivors. It was my Aunt who explained to me what had happened when I became older."
He replied quietly, as he ran his fingers through his hair.
"I...I'm so sorry. That must have been hard on you." She replied as she leaned back into the wooden railing.
"It's alright, that happened a long time ago." He said as his brown eyes locked on to hers.
She felt squeamish under his gaze.
"So, Esme. Tell me more about yourself." He asked, his eyes probing.
She let out a small chuckle to relieve herself of some tension she had been holding.
"I've already told you everything there is to know."
"I don't think so. I read a long time ago that women hold an ocean of secrets within themselves." A smirk forming on his face, as he rested his chin on his knuckles.
She felt taken aback. Her mind instantly recalled the handkerchief underneath her pillow.
"Oh Charles, that's silly. What secrets could a girl like me possibly keep?" She replied as her eyes wandered to the far left corner of the park.
"You tell me." His tone had gone serious.
"There's nothing. Honestly." She replied with a small smile, as she saw him shrug slightly.
"Is there anyone, you are seeing? You know. . ."
She realized he was sitting uncomfortably close to her by now. She knew exactly what he meant as an image of Carlisle's face flashed through her mind.
"I don't quite understand what you're talking about." She lied.
"Come now, don't play coy. You can tell Charles." He teased.
"There isn't anyone. Really." She replied as her eyes narrowed.
He gave a small nod.
"Did anyone tell you, you're beautiful Esme?" He said with a smile.
Soft mirth escaped her lips.
"Does flattery usually work?" She asked, half joking.
"If it's the only way to see a face like yours every day, then yes."
He covered her hands with his.
She felt her heart skip a beat. Things were moving way too fast.
"So, you are living with your Aunt?" She asked, fighting to keep the nervousness out of her voice.
"Yes, only to finish school and my training." He replied as he withdrew his hand from hers.
Thank God.
"Training?" She asked bemused.
"For the army, I'm going to be a general someday." He replied, confidence in his voice.
"Sorry to disappoint you general, but I'm a pacifist."
He gave out a smile laugh, flashing white teeth.
She felt her cheeks redden with the next words he spoke.
"Then, I suppose you believe in making love and not war." There was a taunt in his voice.
The conversation had started to get a little too personal.
"I think, it's time perhaps for us to go. It's getting late, and mother hates me to be home after curfew." She replied quietly, as she gingerly grabbed her parasol and stood up.
She saw the expression on his face, as his lips parted.
He was about to say something but changed his mind.
"You're quite right. I believe there's a storm coming." He nodded at the dark clouds in the sky as he offered her his arm and she took it.
The rest of the walk on the way back to her home was spent in pensive silence. The air was humid and thick.
She walked up the familiar wooden front porch steps, the floor creaking with each step.
"Would you like to come in for some tea?" She asked, but before a reply escaped his lips the front door opened.
Her mother and Mrs Robinson busted out the door, an air of camaraderie between them.
"Esme, dear. Your home quite early." Her mother turned to look at her as Mrs Robinson walked over next to Charles.
"I had to get her home Mrs Platt, there's a storm coming." He replied quietly, a small smile on his face.
"Why isn't that sweet of you Charlie." Mrs Robinson said as she patted his back.
"We should get going Joan; I'll call on you next week for the rest of the details." Mrs Robinson said to Mrs Platt
"Alright Mae, Take care now." Mrs Platt replied as she walked her friend to her car, leaving Charles and Esme alone together.
"Well, this afternoon has been most lovely Ms Platt." He replied with his best gentleman smile as he took her hand and kissed it lightly.
"It's my pleasure." She replied with a smile.
"Charlie dear! This car won't drive itself." Mrs Robinson called out from the passenger seat.
Esme watched as Charles started to walk towards the car. He turned to her one last time as he gave her a wink and entered the driver's seat. She shook her head in amusement as she watched them drive off into the distance.
She entered the large house and proceeded to the stairwell.
Her mother followed a few moments later.
"Esme dear, your father and I have something we would like to talk to you about." Mrs Platt said, calling out from the living room.
Esme let out a small sigh halfway up.
She made her way down once more as she headed to the living room.
"Have a seat dear." Her mother motioned to the crimson red velvet sofa.
Esme entered and set her parasol and gloves next to her seat as she made herself comfortable. She saw her father enter a few moments later.
She watched as her father take a seat opposite her in one of the old easy chairs as her mother meticulously pour tea into the delicate china cup.
Esme suddenly remembered what she wanted to tell her parents. She felt nervous as she tapped her foot on the wooden floor deep in thought.
"Here you are dear."
She handed Esme her cup of tea as she took a seat next to her daughter.
There was something different in the air.
She took a sip quietly, the taste lingering in between her lips.
"Dear, your father and I want to tell you something very important." Her mother began as she nodded to her father.
"Yes?" She asked as she set her cup on the glass table.
"Well since you have graduated-"
"Oh mother! Yes, I know what this is about. You're asking me what I'd like to do after I graduated correct?" Esme said cutting her mother off.
"No dear I-"
"No mother, it's quite alright. I already know what I'm going to do. There's nothing to worry about. I'll simply extend my studies to college. I'm going to be a teacher Mama, isn't that wonderful?"
Esme said as a smile lit up her face.
Her mother wasn't smiling.
"No Esme."
She could feel her heart drop to her stomach.
"I don't understand." Esme said a perplexed expression on her face.
She watched as her father stood up and walked up behind to her mother, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Just tell her Joan." He said.
"Tell me what?" Esme asked.
The room felt was beginning to feel enclosed.
"You're staying here and marry Charles Evenson." Her mother said plainly.
The words felt like a bombshell.
"What?"
She felt her throat go suddenly dry.
"But Mama, what about my studies?"
"You're going to visit Mrs Robinson every Saturday for your lessons." Her mother replied in a matter-of-fact tone.
"What am I supposed to do there every Saturday?" Esme asked feeling helpless.
"On your newlessons of course. She will teach you, literature, class and culture, and by the time you get married you will be just the perfect wife, smart and sensible. That woman has practically a library in her house. You can read all you want, it's as good as a college there, and you can learn a lot from her." Her mother replied with a warm smile.
"But Mama, I want to be a teacher. I don't want to get married right away, Mama I don't even know if I love him." Esme pleaded.
"Don't be impertinent, Esme." Her mother snapped.
"You should be pleased. Charles Evenson is the most eligible bachelor in town. And he has a wonderful academic record with his school. He's handsome and charming, what more could you possibly want?" She said as she took a sip from her drink.
"Mother please. I don't want to marry just yet; I want to go to college. Dad? Please." Esme pleaded once more as she looked at her father for help.
"It's best for you." Her father replied reassuringly.
"Mother?"
"The decision is final."
"But...you're not even letting me decide for myself." Esme said as she tried to reason with her mother.
"Esme, I don't want to hear another word. I knowwhat's best for my daughter." Her mother said as she threw a look at her.
She couldn't, she wouldn't believe it. She just can't.
This can't be happening.
She felt like she was being backed up into an emotional corner that she had no escape of. The only thing she could do was claw at the walls but what good would that do?
She ran out of the living room and up the stairs.
Esme entered her room and slammed the door shut. She leaned on the door and slowly slid down to the floor, her face wet with tears. Her dreams of freedom were being crushed to a pulp, with its juices served as a refreshing drink for strangers to taste.
She slowly stood up and dragged herself to her bed.
She buried her face into the pillows as she let out a scream.
"Dearest Diary,
My dreams of freedom have been replaced within the confines of a fixed marriage.
Fixed marriage.
Even the words themselves feel like a prison. I don't even love him. I swore to myself a long time ago, that if I did marry, it would be for love. Not for a life of conformity.
I feel so helpless. I'm usually the one who fights with all I have, but what are the odds of an army against me?
I feel suffocated. I've been bound and chained. And I'm not even sure if there is a key to my chains.
How could I possibly fly if my wings are clipped?"
Esme's tears stained the pages of her diary as she wrote. She never felt so betrayed in her life. Her parents were supposed to love and support her.
How could they do this to me?
She thought of Carlisle.
This marriage would definitely be the barricade that will forevermore prevent her from seeing him one day.
But there was hope. There was always hope.
He's still out there. . .
She grabbed his white handkerchief and held it close to her chest as her tears flowed like rain into the night.
A/N: Whew! Here's a long chapter for ya guys :) I hope you like it :D an update won't be too far behind so stay tuned ;) keep reading and keep reviewing! :) they make my day brighter :3 thank you to all my readers, God Bless and sit tight for chapter 8 :)