England, 1816. "Mr. Nicolas Burns was a man of high esteem, and I knew without a doubt that I would be his wife one day. If only I could convince him as such."
Follow Magdelline Forsythe as she strives to get the attention of her childhood friend, M...
Over the next couple of days, my mind seemed to be elsewhere. I wasn't focusing on reading my books, having to reread paragraphs over and over again. My already measly piano skills were worsened whenever I was practicing. I was struggling to fall asleep due to my mind processing everything. But, one could not help pondering over the times spent with Mr. Nicolas Burns. He was a very respectable man and I could not imagine what the world would be like without a man as respectable as he.
It was breakfast time and we were having hot cereal again, which I guessed would have been good for a fall day as such it was, but I had no appetite. Or if I did, I didn't notice. Besides, having hot cereal twice a week was tiring. Apparently, I was so out of it, I couldn't even hear my father trying to talk to me at the breakfast table.
"Magdelline, dear!" his voice echoed through the eating room. I lifted my head, looking around trying to see who was talking. Blushing as only Papa was in the room, I tilted my head to him as if nothing had phased me.
"Yes, Papa?"
"Are you alright?" he asked, looking at me carefully as he took a spoonful of oats.
"I am fine, Papa," I nodded. I started eating my food, realizing how I had not eaten much at all. What a sight I must have been. Staring off into the distance, no doubt a silly smile plastered on my face. Oh, well—what was done, was done. I just had to keep an air that nothing happened so my father would not question me.
As I finished up my food, I excused myself to the parlor in which I picked up a book of Elizabeth Carter's poems. I remembered whenever Nicolas had first shown me Carter and how I fell in love with him then and there. I was twelve and he was not yet nineteen. He and I had snuck into his father's library and he wanted to show me Elizabeth Carter. I remember him looking so vulnerable showing me his favorite poem. He had recited it with such care and preciseness—and he seemed to feel it with not only his voice but his eyes. That was the first time I noticed how gentle he was. The first time I saw him more as my best friend older brother who I sometimes pushed out of trees.
I slammed the book shut, standing up. I needed to stop thinking about him and do something about it. But I didn't know what.
—
I sat at my desk, tapping my fingers on the cover of my book. I wanted to read, but I couldn't get myself to do it. The meeting with Nicolas seemed to haunt me wherever I went and at all times. Slamming my book shut for the second time that day, there was a crash behind me. I turned on my chair to see Claudia had dropped a teacup, shattering it all over the floor.
"I'm so sorry, Miss Forsythe—you scared me— I didn't know you was in here," she said, her London working-class accent thick.
"I apologize," I said, looking down at the floor where there were glass and tea spilled. Not wanting to stain the bottom of my gown I pointed to the bath area. "Feel free to use any of my towels." I turned back to the desk in front of me, before pausing.
"Claudia, do you have any family back in London?"
"Yes, ma'am," she replied as she took a towel out of a drawer. "I got Mum, Uncle Davey, Aunt Iris, and twelve brothers and sisters."
"Twelve?" I asked, turning to look over the back of the chair at her. "Twelve siblings?"
"Yes, ma'am," she nodded, kneeling to wipe to tea up. "I'm the oldest 'sides my brother, Joel. He's working at an estate down in Brighton which is good to send money for our family. Living in the same complex for over twenty years, ma'am."
"It must be big to hold twelve siblings, your mother, and aunt and uncle," I said aloud, repinning a piece of my hair.
"Uh, no, ma'am," Claudia said slowly. "Actually only has two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen. That's all we need."I turned away, slightly disturbed at the thought.
"Thank you, Claudia," I nodded, turning back to face the window behind my desk. I looked out on the expansive property we had for only two people living there. Of course, I felt something for Claudia's family living in a small apartment, but I couldn't do anything about it.
"Anything else you need, ma'am?" Claudia asked, after finishing cleaning up her mess.
"No, Claudia," I shook my head, standing up suddenly. "Only that first thing in the morning, you bring me a fresh cup of tea—and don't break it this time."
"I'll try my best not to, ma'am," Claudia said sheepishly before curtsying and leaving the room.
I watched the door close behind her while staring at it. Poor girl, I thought. Not much of a life to make tea and bring it to me every day. I turned to get ready for bed. I knew it was early, but I was getting a headache and didn't know what else to do to ease the pain or the boredom. For a while I sat in bed, sometimes reading something, but oftentimes just staring at the ceiling.
With a sigh, I set the book on the side table, looking at the flickering flame on the candle as it licked at the air. It seemed I was getting more indulgence from watching a candle rather than reading a book. I quick exhale, I blew the candle out being immediately surrounded by darkness except for the outside which was still a grey color—moonlight was just creeping out now.
Sometimes I grew tired of my monotony. I wondered if Claudia did. I had never thought about what Claudia or Mrs. Cready might be feeling. How rude of me. They must think of me as rude and ignorant. Well, maybe I am, but that is a subject to dwell on for another time.
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