Now that AP tests are done with and finals are finishing up, I hope to be able to update regularly (meaning every other week ). I have no idea how long this story will be, but I hope that all of you will not give up on me! I am considering getting a beta but there is the small problem of finding out how….. oh well, enough with my ramblings! Enjoy the fruits of an awesome weekend!
PS: Please, please review. You have no idea how much reviews mean to writers….. I see the new mail indication on my internet page and I think "OH New Review!," but then when I click on it….disappointment….another ad or funny forward from a friend. The main point of this anecdote it that funny forwards are awesome, but never as awesome as reviews!
Disclaimer: I do own all of the characters, but if you recognize a line it's probably not mine (I do tend to drop in random lines from other stories, movies, etc, without even knowing it)
After her emotional breakdown over her brother's letter, Eleanor spent the next four years studying all she could, trying to distract her from the bigger issue in her life. But no matter how devoted she became in her studies, she never felt satisfied of her work. Everyday seemed to pass on just as the day before had. Her brother's short, infrequent visits were the only way to gage the passing time. He continued to spend most of his vacation time at the Duchesses house in lower Scotland.
She always said lower Scotland grudgingly because all of that wild land seemed to blend into one. Lowland Scots always preferred to make the distinction between them and their wild cousins up north, but honestly a Scotsmen was a Scotsmen. She, like all good mannered and proper British citizens of the Empire, hated Scotland and all the people that live there. She had no idea how this intense dislike of the northern neighbors came about, but apparently one is not a true British citizen until one forms the hatred of Scotland and the disorder it represents. Scotland, to most of the people in England, represents all that is barbaric and horrid. It is the ugly cousin that burns a scar into the Empires reputation.
To scare her as a child, her brother used to tell me stories about crazy, half naked men that inhabited the woods and mountains of Scotland. Though most of his stories would be acted out on our makeshift stage or outside underneath the towering willow, these frightful tales were always told in the dead of night when the moon was full and the fires had died out. She used to hide underneath several blankets, hoping in vain that the warmth it provided would give her courage to listen to her brother's stories. The bone chilling breezes of the Scottish Highlands filled the room as soon as her brother began to whisper his carefully woven tales. In that room, neither my brother nor she was safe from the wild, pagan warriors who flew through the night on shadow horses.
Though now she was grown and was no longer as ignorant as she was as a child, the stories made an invisible imprint on her impression of the strange northern culture. She could no longer imagine Scotland without a feeling of dread and fear developing deep in her mind. Sure to say, she was horrified when her brother revealed that he was spending most his vacations in the Scottish lowlands. And, in addition to an already unbelievably horrible idea, her lovable, kind, and carefree brother was living in the dominating path (and house) of the Duchess.
Her tutor was constantly correcting her on the subject of the Duchesses name and how she needed to address her. Technically, the Duchess was her grandmother, but Eleanor never called her such. In Eleanor's defense, she refused to add the title of "grand" to the name of the most hateful, spiteful and manipulative being her world. She felt the title of grand needed to be earned, not just added as a formality following the long honored tradition of family hierarchy. Rather than make some important change in history like Catherine the Great, the Duchess spent her life building up her estate and paying off her son's never ending stream of debts. In addition to snubbing Eleanor's mother from society, she decided that her own grand-niece was not worth her time or effort and cut Eleanor off from her support. All of her actions naturally added up to Eleanor's perfectly explainable emotion of pure hate. Yes she hated her, and yes she knew hate was a more intense emotion than what was deserved, but she felt that she had a strong enough excuse.
The burning question constantly going through Eleanor's mind was how her brother could know all the things the Duchess had done to her and her mother and still decide to spend so much time in "its" presence. The feeling of betrayal grew stronger within Eleanor every day her brother stayed away. The only thing that kept her moving on to the next day was the possibility her brother would return from Scotland.
As the days grew closer to her 16th birthday, she began to think about the alien idea of a debut. She had heard the girls at Mrs. Lowry's last tea party giggle and whisper amongst themselves of the husbands they were hoping to capture while having their season in London. She couldn't blame them for dreaming of raising their position in society, but she knew the poor country girls had little to no chance when standing up next to high society heiresses. Though Eleanor prided herself of her ignorance of modern society, she had read enough of older cultures to realize that women of little means had an equally little chance of marrying above their social station. Her ignorance often left her questioning why girls her own age would spend so much time worrying over their future, unknown husband. She preferred to spend her time riding her mare, Angelique, then spending ling, tortuous nights at the assembly rooms. Last summer, she would ride as far as she could without looking back. Every day she tried to improve her courage and ride out a little farther. By the end of the summer, she would ride Angelique all the way into Ludington, about 30 miles away from her estate. Sometimes, as she neared the small town, she would muse about riding on forever, away from all her troubles at home and her unhappy past. But just as she reached her goal, some invisible chain would tighten, pulling her back into reality.
As she sat in the library in the December before her 16th birthday, she mused over the possibility of leaving all her responsibilities and expectations behind to live a life free of betrayal and limitations. Somewhere out in the world was a vast unknown, so accurately described in the poems of Keats and Woodsworth. Though she hated poems that described the human condition and life, she could never read enough poetry about nature and the world. She felt the aesthetic quality of poetry did not suit humans, but rather the majestic and impossible beauty of Mother Nature. There was a magical quality the way unrestrained wilderness affected her. She never could quite explain what it was, nor did she want to. She feared that putting something so beautiful and emotional into restrained and controlled words would ruin the experience of her freedom, if only temporary.
She was shaken from reality by a load banging on the front door. We never get visitors, she thought to herself. Confused and curious, she poked her head out of the library door and listened into the conversation down stairs.
"Please tell the lady that her grandmother, The Duchess of Dalkeith wishes her to spend the summer at her estate in Scotland. If the lady is not already engaged, I was asked to take her their personally in the Duchesses carriage."
Eleanor felt sympathy for the poor butler who didn't really know how to respond to the situation. Gathering up enough courage to save him from having to give an embarrassing denial, Eleanor rushed to the top of the stairs.
"She is otherwise engaged," Eleanor replied, trying to look as regal as possible as she descended the wide flight of stairs down to the hall. "Please inform the Duchess that I regretfully must decline her generous, if not unprecedented, request," Eleanor continued, sarcasm dripping off her tongue as she tried to hold back her anger. Heading into the blue parlor, she called over her shoulder, "Oh, and tell her that she might have convinced my brother that she has a soul, but she will never fool me".
With a smug smile on her face, Eleanor marched out of the hallway and began to open the door to the parlor, She had just twisted the knob when she heard the servant stutter over his reply.
"B-but his l-lords-ship, your b-brother, als-so w-wished for you t-to come", he managed to get out, looking more and more embarrassed as Eleanor's glare intensified.
As the uncomfortable silence carried on, Eleanor's expression turned from hateful to defeat.
"Fine", she whispered, turning back towards the door and resting her head on the door with a heart heavy sigh, "I'll do it."