Hearts revival (a follow up from the North and South tale)

the strike 1

The shouting is overwhelming, the mass of people frightening and yet, mesmerizing at the same time. I hadn't seen them coming. How did  I end up in the midst of a riot. I presume this to be a riot, as there are many people surrounding me, shouting and pressing forward. I have no choice but to adapt.

An overwhelming stench has me fighting back the urge to rech., to avoid the horrible smell I try to breath shallow, I realise it comes from the man in front of me. I try to stir away from him a little but it's next to impossible as the rows of people are close and nearly impassable.
 To my dismay, my dress rips, a big tear runs from the bottom to my waist (thank goodness I'm still wearing the undergarment,) somebody must have stepped on the rim, the lacing is now trailing behind me. Next, my bonnet loosens, I am unable to tie it back into place rightly, so eventually it falls to the ground, nobody pays attention and I am unable to retrieve it. The people pressing on from behind step on it as if it didn't exist. I divert my eyes back to the front, never mind the bonnet now. I am afraid to fall, what if I do, I might get trampled on, like my bonnet, the people are in such a fury that I deem this to be possible. I will not fall, I simply mustn't. As I struggle to stay upright, partly due to my overly large and long dress, I try to make sense of my current affairs. Surely the content of what they shout should inform me to what the uproar is all about. I strain to listen, it is next to impossible to make out anything clear. Everybody seems to shout something different. 

After a while, I understand some of what the shouting is about: there is demand for more pay, they also demand better work conditions. So, this is very likely the long feared strike they have been talking about at the last few dinners and dances I had to attend. These are workers of all types of trade. I have to admit I don't know much about them and their struggles. I don't know much about anything that goes on in the real world, really. Anything about what happens beyond the prancing world of the rich that is. I detest the fact that I have so little knowledge of what the so called lowly people's living conditions are like. 

The rioters have stopped. I am glad of it, my sides are burning and I'm in dire need of a rest so I can catch my breath. I'm not used to such prolonged exercise. 

We are facing a grant building that I come to recognize as the governor's home. I have come here many times to dine or on other social occasions. 

The doors to the large balcony open and the governor and a few other men, of whom I know most of them, step out into the open. The people's shouting is getting more intense. The governor lifts his arms to quieten the mob. Then he speaks to them. I don't like him, I never have. When I first met him, I detected an air of falseness around him and so far, whatever he has done or said has not proven this impression to be wrong.

Now as he is speaking to the people, he seems friendly, sympathetic, but I seem to remember that only yesterday, at the gathering to celebrate the opening of the new tropical gardens, he stated that the workers are lazy and get more than enough. I had overheard this conversation and had not thought about it much until now. This pretending to sympathize could surely be a strategy, is he pretending, so that they are being left with the false impression of being taken seriously? This could very well be possible, it makes perfect sense to me.  The possibility of this infuriates me greatly  I strongly  hope I am wrong.. Would he, they do such a thing?  I look around into the faces of those around me, for the first time since I got myself dragged into this, really taking them in. They look tired, unhealthy, desperate, angry. I feel a sudden surge of sympathy and also strange, somewhat unrealistic. I feel like a human doll in comparison to these 'real' people, with all my finery. I catch sight of my dainty cream colored gloves, silk with a border of intricate lace. How theatrical they really occur to me at this moment, so misplaced, a bit like I have felt all my live. 

Me, the exceedingly rich young lady. Apparently I am a good match but it is not me who they come looking for, my riches and my grand buildings are the so-called good match. Unfortunately, I have not yet found someone who considers me, just me, myself a good match. Most suitors that have approached me got lost in the course of our first conversation. I have a unique way of looking at things and I often declare my strange, complicated thoufhs puplicly, very much to my Uncle's dismay. My thoughts do not conform to the norm of the society. I do not intent to be different and I do not intend to say unique things but I can not help myself. It is who I am and frankly I am not prepared to accept any man that can not appreciate me for who I am. 

Thinking about this I suddenly realize that I don't feel that dullness looming over me like it usually does, no, I actually feel amazing! My blood is pumping, my heart is racing, adrenaline is chasing through my body and all of it since I've managed to get myself dragged into this riot! I'm loving this, I could suddenly hug that smelly old man next to me; the energy, I feel glorious! I am aware that these feelings are exeedingly selfish and I try to imagine what 'they' must feel like. Still with a beam on my face I study the people surrounding me and for the first time, they seem to notice me. At first, they throw me curious looks. Then one of the women next to me starts glaring: "What is she doing here?" She says to the woman next to her but as she says this, she looks straight at me. She is angry, let's say she was angry anyways, but I fear she is directing her anger towards me now and to be honest, I can not blame her. I must look like the impersonation of those she likely despises, those that oppress her and her kind. 

Turns out she is not the only one that seems to despise my kind. The aggression towards me is getting thicker. I'm scared, definitive I am, but oddly, strangely I love it. I love the danger this situation bears because I am alive! I am alive right now, every fiber of me is on alert. The women who spoke first sneers. "I think you may have lost your way Miss, not a good idea.." and she and others advance on me. 

Suddenly there are strong arms and a man I hadn't seen before drags me away from the angry faces and further still until I find myself in a quiet street. I can still here that angry voice of that woman, "YES go back to your world of fake puppets..." i'm  panting, so does the man standing close to me. I look at my savior, he has a kind face even though right now he is scowling at me. "What were you thinking Miss, the people are desperate who knows what they would have done to you!" He is right of cause but then again I accidentally got into this situation.
"I must thank you, sir, for your kindness and for helping me. I've lost my way and got accidentally dragged into the crowd."  His face softens.
"May I ask your name so I can show my gratitude," I ask him further. "Higgins, Miss, Nicholas Higgins."
I shake his hand: "Elisabeth Armitage, I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance."