An Ignorant Thief

March, 1828: A Chance Meeting

I turned over in bed and sighed. I really had no desire to wake up today. I rolled out of bed and onto my feet. I got dressed and did my hair, not really caring too much about what I looked like. I wasn't going anywhere today. If someone wished to see me, I would have time to get myself looking a bit better. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a tea scone off the breakfast tray. Tzi tutted, but she could never really say mad at me. Mother and father kept her on as a maid and a cook, and her husband of five years as a gardener, butler, coach driver, and almost whatever other job they wished. She had gotten married at 21, one year younger than I was now, which meant she now considered me an old maid. Their little girl rushed in. I crouched down to her eye level. "Your mama will see you in a second." I whispered, handing her half the scone. She giggled and ran off, eating the liberated confectionery.

"Shame, Sadie." Tzi said. "Keep doing that and she will grow up like you"

I sidled over and stuck my finger in the pot of cream. "What you seem to keep forgetting is who raised me." I poked her side and chasséd out the door. The grand hall was empty, and I settled down in a chair, looking around. I would go into the library, but if father found out there was food in there, he would likely skin me alive.

I had just brushed the last of the crumbs off my hands when Tzi found me. "Sadie, your mother and father wish to see you in the study."

I grimaced. It was bad enough when one of my parents summoned me before dinner, let alone both. Standing, I walked to the study, where my parents had left the door open. I stood in the doorway for a second. My parents occupied both of the chairs in the room, as normal, leaving me to stand. My father motioned for me to come in. "Close the door, please."

All was silent for a moment, before my mother started talking. "Sadie, you are a lady now. Twenty-two is no child." I sighed inwardly as she continued. "And, you are the richest maiden in London. You have the largest dowry this side, and the other side of the Thames. We suggest that you start looking for a man to marry." Now I sighed out loud.

My father grossly misunderstood the cause of my discontent. "We will even help you, invite men over for you to acquaint yourself with."

I stood up and left without saying a word. No one passed me in the halls, for which I was glad. I opened the door to my room, kicked off my shoes, and flopped in a chair. "Ah, Zut!" I had learned much from my French education.

**

The next week passed in a daze. We took breakfast with imbeciles. Tea time was shared with an overbearing snoots. Supper, thankfully, I was allowed to eat alone. Dinner, although, more than made up for it. Three or four men were invited each night, and none of them paid the least bit of attention to me. For this I was grateful, as it let me more easily observe and count all the reasons I disliked them. I started wondering how many men there were in London that my parents could possibly find. Finally, Friday night supper was over. I threw on my shawl and stomped out the front door. I needed to go to a play. A nice tragedy. Shakespeare would set the mood nicely.

By the time I arrived at the play house, the last play of the day had already ended. I slipped the ticket vendor a shilling and went in anyway.

I pushed past a curtain on the balcony and stepped into a box, tearing off my ridiculous hat and sitting heavily in the nearest chair, not caring in my dress got wrinkled or my hair fell into disarray. Running my hands over the velvet covered seats and tasseled decorations, I looked over the edge, gazing into the empty theatre. The lights were off, except for the one stage light left on when I entered. I stood and set my elbows on the top of the banister, and my face in my hands. I had been a hard day. I felt terrible, but not just about my actions. About everybody else's actions. My family thought I was good for nothing more than to be married off to someone, and society agreed. But I didn't. And nobody could see that.