The door was opened almost immediately. A large, elderly woman with an angry face stared at them, one after the other.
“Yes?” She demanded.
“I'm sorry to disturb you, Madame,” Catherine said, already feeling her cheeks grow red. “I was wondering if you are looking for any help?”
“What kind of help?”
“Oh, well, I … Maybe some help in the kitchen? Or with cleaning?” She had not expected the obvious question.
“Have you done it before?”
“Well, I've been helping out at home, so I guess I have.”
“And how were you planning to help us with that?” The woman nodded towards Catherine's arm. She looked down at the grey bandages and wondered why she had not thought about that.
“Oh, no, I … That is not going to stay there … I mean, I'm sure it will be healed soon.” Tears began to burn in her eyes, and she felt like an idiot for ever letting Gabrielle talk her into it. Gabrielle must have read her mind, as she jumped in to save the conversation.
“Madame, I don't mean to be rude, but we would like to talk to whoever is responsible for hiring staff,” she said, in a tone of voice that almost matched that of the woman in the door. The woman did not seem impressed. Taking a step forward while squeezing the door shut behind her, she stared at Gabrielle.
“What makes you think you can make demands like that, young lady? How did the pair of you even get in here? The gates are supposed to stay locked, and you are hardly the kind of people usually allowed into the castle to seek employment.”
Both girls paled at this.
“Gates?” Gabrielle asked.
“We're at the castle?” was Catherine's astonished answer. A moment of quiet passed between the three of them.
“Get out of here before I call the guards on you,” the woman said, and disappeared behind the door, slamming it shut.
The girls looked at each other, then began to run back the way they had come. Gabrielle was faster, and disappeared behind the row of bushes again. By the time Catherine reached them, she was horrified to see that two roads led to the bushes, and that she had no idea which one they had come from before. She could not recall crossing a road, so she turned up the one closest to the bushes and started running again.
The houses looked slightly familiar and she tried her best to catch up with Gabrielle who seemed to have gone far enough ahead to be hidden behind the slight bend in the road. A man came walking urgently out of a house in front of her, and she stopped, terrified. He was tall and clad in black, elegant clothes that seemed slightly crumpled. His face was contorted in pain and he was striding towards her. Her breathing grew erratic and she did not know what to do, choosing to remain frozen to the spot.
“It's you!” the man gasped, when he came closer to her. “Who are you? Why are you here?” He started wheezing and she finally managed to step backwards. Gabrielle must have taken the other road out or she surely would have come back and looked for her.
“How are you doing that,” the man demanded. Catherine looked down at herself but saw nothing that could explain his question.
“I'm sorry,” she squeaked. “We didn't mean to go here, it was a mistake. The gate was open, I think, and we didn't know, sir.”
The man stared at her, then walked closer. He seemed to breathe more easily, but Catherine still tried to hold her breath, afraid that he had some infection that would spread to her.
“What is your name, girl?”
“Ca- Catherine, sir.”
He looked at her disgustedly. She was afraid she might faint if he kept coming closer to her, from fear more than her superficial breathing.
“You entire name, if you'd please.”
Catherine could not help it. She started to cry. Small, restrained sobs escaping her lips as she tried to explain.
“I'm so sorry, sir, I promise it was a mistake. I didn't even want to go here, I was trying to get out, and I couldn't remember where the gate was-”
The man in front of her made an impatient sound and drew his sword on her, catching her wrist and holding it tight.
“If you tell me who you are I'll let you go and nothing will happen. You haven't done anything illegal just yet.”
“Emerson, sir, I'm Catherine Emerson. We live in the second row before the walls, my father is a merchant, sir,” she sobbed.
He nodded.
“Catherine Emerson, please hand me that scarf you're wearing, then, and I'll show you the way out.”
She quickly took off her shawl and handed it to him, not asking any questions or making any more explanations. If her shawl was all this mistake would cost her, she would count herself lucky.
The man shoved her the way back to the row of bushes and told her to go straight ahead.
“Don't mention this to anyone, Catherine Emerson. You will regret it if you do, you hear me?”
Catherine nodded and ran away from him as soon as he released her wrist. Heeding his warning, she wiped the tears off her face and did her best to look as if she had merely lost her way, Gabrielle came running towards her, her face full of worry and relief.
“Catherine, I thought you were gone! I'm so sorry, I didn't know you weren't with me.” She took her hand and they went outside. Back on the main street, it was more than obvious that two, large metal gates were meant to cover the entrance to the small street.
“We must have missed them,” Catherine mumbled and smiled a little. “Do you want to go back home?”
“Are you mad? Now we know why it was so difficult, let's go ask at some actual houses,” Gabrielle said, yet again leading the way. Catherine suppressed another sob and went after her, anxious not to get lost again.
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fredag den 6. maj 2011
torsdag den 5. maj 2011
Chapter 2, part 4
Her father walked her back to the Pegg house the same evening, as soon as Alfred had left. He had left a large pouch on the table and judging from the shine on her father's face, she would have to assume that her family were fetching an unexpected and very large bride price for her. She had not expected it either, but she assumed this was just another side of the “helping” Alfred was so happy to do .
Gabrielle seemed to have waited for them to return and welcomed them as soon as they reached the fence around the property. She greeted Jan politely, but no longer as warmly as before, and took Catherine's hand to lead her inside. Catherine felt safer than she had the whole day, and tried to tell herself that the month she had left there would be much longer than a normal month.
It was not until a few days later when they were taking a walk by themselves that any of them rose the subject. Gabrielle had been more quiet than usual ever since Catherine's father had visited them and she now seemed to be lost in her thoughts, kicking a small rock along the grassy side of the road as they walked.
“I really don't want to get married,” said Catherine. Gabrielle did not look up.
“I know,” she said. “I wouldn't either. Not now.”
“He looks like he's really old. What if he doesn't ever allow me to do anything or if he is worse than Martha?” She had taken to calling her father's wife by her first name since the incident, something that seemed fitting and yet felt so very strange. No one had commented on it.
“We have to do something else. You can't just sit here and wait for them to come and take you away.”
“Don't be silly. Where would I go? Even marriage to Alfred is better than the street.”
“Oh, right, Alfred. I forgot his name. Was he nice to you at all?”
“I guess he was nice. But he was nice like you dad is nice. Like anyone is nice towards a child, not like he wanted me around.”
Gabrielle was quiet for a moment, picking at some straws, then allowing them to fall to the ground.
“If he's really old, isn't it nice that he isn't very … interested?”
“Yes, but-” Catherine found it difficult to explain her worries. “He's still going to be … He's still going to marry me, even though he doesn't like me. And he still expects a child at some point and he's never going to be home, not for more than a month or two during the year.”
“Is it really that bad? You have a whole house to yourself then. I'd love that!” Gabrielle began to sound excited, but Catherine shook her head and looked at her seriously.
“It is bad. If you'd seen him you'd understand it. I just don't know what else to do. It's all been arranged.”
“You'll just have to go somewhere else, then. What if we find someone who will let you work for them?”
Catherine paused in confusion, thinking it over.
“That might work! But who?”
“Plenty of people need help. We just need to find them. I guess if we walk to the city we might be able to find something.”
“You mean we just go from door to door and knock?” Catherine began feeling more scared than hopeful, but Gabrielle was apparently feeling very confident about her plan.
“I'm with you, we'll be able to find something. We could even go now. If we hurry we'd have two hours to look before we have to go back home.”
“Your mum will be really angry, we said we'd be right back,” Catherine protested. Gabrielle just shook her head.
“She'll be fine. If I tell her why we left she'll probably even be happy.”
Gabrielle turned around on the spot and started walking towards the city walls. Catherine bit her lip and thought about calling her back, but then decided against it and followed her without further protests. It looked more promising that what her father had come up with.
The excitement made theirs steps faster than usual and the walk to the city seemed short. But when they were surrounded by the large houses and mansions of the people who could afford them, they regretted walking so fast, or even walking at all. Gabrielle seemed to feel responsible for their project, and began walking towards a small street that went between two large houses. Catherine followed her with her heart in her chest.
They had to walk around for a while before they spotted a door in a fence that led to a kitchen entrance. The door turned out to be locked, and they could not find any means to get past it. There were no people around. Catherine suggested they turn back, but Gabrielle ignored her and went on. Their feet clapped against the cobblestones and the small street was eerily quiet. They were used to the streets close to the edge of the city, where there was never a quiet moment and salesmen and crowds made it difficult to get anywhere in a hurry. Catherine very rarely went this far towards the inner parts of the city. Even Martha's most wealthy customers lived much further out than this.
Gabrielle, who still walked several meters in front and seemed consumed with the idea of finding a job for Catherine, suddenly disappeared behind a row of bushes that obscured the rest of the road from view. Catherine ran to catch up with her and saw that she had found another gate. This time it opened into a small herb garden and a path that led to an unseemly door.
“This has to be a kitchen entrance,” Gabrielle said. “Come on, let's go knock.”
“Gabrielle, wait! What if they get angry with us for being here?”
“Then we leave and never see them again. Stop being so worried, it'll be fine.”
She hurried towards the door and knocked before Catherine could protest.
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Gabrielle seemed to have waited for them to return and welcomed them as soon as they reached the fence around the property. She greeted Jan politely, but no longer as warmly as before, and took Catherine's hand to lead her inside. Catherine felt safer than she had the whole day, and tried to tell herself that the month she had left there would be much longer than a normal month.
It was not until a few days later when they were taking a walk by themselves that any of them rose the subject. Gabrielle had been more quiet than usual ever since Catherine's father had visited them and she now seemed to be lost in her thoughts, kicking a small rock along the grassy side of the road as they walked.
“I really don't want to get married,” said Catherine. Gabrielle did not look up.
“I know,” she said. “I wouldn't either. Not now.”
“He looks like he's really old. What if he doesn't ever allow me to do anything or if he is worse than Martha?” She had taken to calling her father's wife by her first name since the incident, something that seemed fitting and yet felt so very strange. No one had commented on it.
“We have to do something else. You can't just sit here and wait for them to come and take you away.”
“Don't be silly. Where would I go? Even marriage to Alfred is better than the street.”
“Oh, right, Alfred. I forgot his name. Was he nice to you at all?”
“I guess he was nice. But he was nice like you dad is nice. Like anyone is nice towards a child, not like he wanted me around.”
Gabrielle was quiet for a moment, picking at some straws, then allowing them to fall to the ground.
“If he's really old, isn't it nice that he isn't very … interested?”
“Yes, but-” Catherine found it difficult to explain her worries. “He's still going to be … He's still going to marry me, even though he doesn't like me. And he still expects a child at some point and he's never going to be home, not for more than a month or two during the year.”
“Is it really that bad? You have a whole house to yourself then. I'd love that!” Gabrielle began to sound excited, but Catherine shook her head and looked at her seriously.
“It is bad. If you'd seen him you'd understand it. I just don't know what else to do. It's all been arranged.”
“You'll just have to go somewhere else, then. What if we find someone who will let you work for them?”
Catherine paused in confusion, thinking it over.
“That might work! But who?”
“Plenty of people need help. We just need to find them. I guess if we walk to the city we might be able to find something.”
“You mean we just go from door to door and knock?” Catherine began feeling more scared than hopeful, but Gabrielle was apparently feeling very confident about her plan.
“I'm with you, we'll be able to find something. We could even go now. If we hurry we'd have two hours to look before we have to go back home.”
“Your mum will be really angry, we said we'd be right back,” Catherine protested. Gabrielle just shook her head.
“She'll be fine. If I tell her why we left she'll probably even be happy.”
Gabrielle turned around on the spot and started walking towards the city walls. Catherine bit her lip and thought about calling her back, but then decided against it and followed her without further protests. It looked more promising that what her father had come up with.
The excitement made theirs steps faster than usual and the walk to the city seemed short. But when they were surrounded by the large houses and mansions of the people who could afford them, they regretted walking so fast, or even walking at all. Gabrielle seemed to feel responsible for their project, and began walking towards a small street that went between two large houses. Catherine followed her with her heart in her chest.
They had to walk around for a while before they spotted a door in a fence that led to a kitchen entrance. The door turned out to be locked, and they could not find any means to get past it. There were no people around. Catherine suggested they turn back, but Gabrielle ignored her and went on. Their feet clapped against the cobblestones and the small street was eerily quiet. They were used to the streets close to the edge of the city, where there was never a quiet moment and salesmen and crowds made it difficult to get anywhere in a hurry. Catherine very rarely went this far towards the inner parts of the city. Even Martha's most wealthy customers lived much further out than this.
Gabrielle, who still walked several meters in front and seemed consumed with the idea of finding a job for Catherine, suddenly disappeared behind a row of bushes that obscured the rest of the road from view. Catherine ran to catch up with her and saw that she had found another gate. This time it opened into a small herb garden and a path that led to an unseemly door.
“This has to be a kitchen entrance,” Gabrielle said. “Come on, let's go knock.”
“Gabrielle, wait! What if they get angry with us for being here?”
“Then we leave and never see them again. Stop being so worried, it'll be fine.”
She hurried towards the door and knocked before Catherine could protest.
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onsdag den 4. maj 2011
Chapter 2, part 3
The hours went by so slowly that Catherine started thinking she might fall asleep. Alfred and her father had an unlimited supply of stories from their travels, none of which were interesting to anyone who did not know the people, places and customs they were referring to.
She had spent some time observing Alfred. While he was in a way a handsome man, he seemed to be even older than she had at first assumed. Only tiny things alerted it to her, like the careful way he held his cup of tea, so as not to shake his hand and spill, or the tone in his voice when he spoke to Martha; as if she were as young as Catherine.
Her life with him would be terribly boring. He had hardly spared her a glance since she had arrived and still did not seem to be very interested in her. She had not wanted to be the centre of his attention, and certainly not to be attractive to him, but being ignored completely seemed almost just as bad.
She sighed and shook her head slightly without realising that her father had his eyes on her.
Jan was aware that Catherine was unhappy with his decision. He would have preferred for her to find a husband for herself, and someone a lot closer to her age, but his dilemma left him no choice. Through his own fault she did not have the education she would need to work in any kind of responsible position, and he would not allow for her to drag the family name any further through the dirt by doing anything else. She would not be anyone’s maid or nanny.
Alfred was a very old friend of his, and while it was true that the man had been thinking about marriage, he had shown absolutely no interest in Catherine, which was the only reason Jan had even considered it. She would take care of his house and help him out a bit, and he would be gone for most of the year. He had already agreed not to marry her before she was older, and he was well enough off to afford her a few luxuries, like learning how to read and do maths, even before he was obliged to take care of her.
It was a way to get her out of the house, to have her safe and taken care of and to give her the opportunity to take care of her own life. It was not quite enough to make up for his mistake, but it was the best he could do without putting his own marriage and happiness to risk.
Martha had served them their tea and left them alone. Jan would have liked her to be there to show Catherine support, but he could understand why that might not work out. Martha had only had a polite smile for the girl, and Catherine had barely acknowledged her presence. The air was clearer without her in the room.
He had always liked Alfred. The man was very talented at what he did, always able to make everything work out to his own benefit and helpful towards anyone who he considered a friend. He had enjoyed talking to him and catching up, but Catherine's unwilling display of distress reminded him that he should not let the opportunity be wasted by letting her work up the courage to do something stupid and run off.
“Alfred, my friend, maybe it's time the two of you talk? I'm sure there's plenty for you two to work out without my help.”
Alfred sat up straighter in his seat and shot a glance at Catherine who was trying to compose herself. His face softened and he looked up at Jan who was already walking towards the door.
“Of course. We'll come out and talk to you in a moment.”
Jan left the room and softly closed the door behind him leaving the two people still inside in an awkward silence. Catherine was biting her lip and hid her hands in the folds of her skirt where she grabbed on to the hem so tightly that her fingers started tingling. She could not get herself to look him in the eye, knowing that they were supposed to discuss their future lives together.
“Well, my dear,” Alfred said, breaking the silence. “I assume this is a bit difficult for you, eh? Don't worry about it. Your dad explained some of the situation to me, and the rest is more than obvious.” He nodded towards her still bandaged arm but did not get a reply and did not seem to expect one. Catherine made herself look him in the eye as he spoke, not wanting him to know just how afraid she was.
“The wedding can wait a few years, if you ask me. You'll come and help out with the household till then, and we can work out a date when you're ready. I'll be going away next month, so you should be ready to move in before then. I wont be home before the end of the year, and I'll be going away again soon after that.”
Catherine worked up her courage and finally opened her mouth.
“Do you always travel so much? Later, I mean. My dad said you wanted to have someone to - inherit and, well ...” She trailed off, blushing against her will.
“Oh, don't worry about that just yet. I mean when the time comes we'll find someone who can come and stay and help you out, all right? I already have a housekeeper, a very respectable old girl, so you won't be lonely.”
“I see. Thank you,” she said lamely. He smiled warmly at her.
“Don't worry about it. I'm glad to be able to help you all out.”
He rose and went into the kitchen, leaving the still blushing Catherine alone in the darkening room. She was like a burden being passed on from one man to the other. Alfred clearly saw her as Jan's small trouble-causing daughter more than a future wife. It should be a relief, but it felt like a bitter disappointment.
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She had spent some time observing Alfred. While he was in a way a handsome man, he seemed to be even older than she had at first assumed. Only tiny things alerted it to her, like the careful way he held his cup of tea, so as not to shake his hand and spill, or the tone in his voice when he spoke to Martha; as if she were as young as Catherine.
Her life with him would be terribly boring. He had hardly spared her a glance since she had arrived and still did not seem to be very interested in her. She had not wanted to be the centre of his attention, and certainly not to be attractive to him, but being ignored completely seemed almost just as bad.
She sighed and shook her head slightly without realising that her father had his eyes on her.
Jan was aware that Catherine was unhappy with his decision. He would have preferred for her to find a husband for herself, and someone a lot closer to her age, but his dilemma left him no choice. Through his own fault she did not have the education she would need to work in any kind of responsible position, and he would not allow for her to drag the family name any further through the dirt by doing anything else. She would not be anyone’s maid or nanny.
Alfred was a very old friend of his, and while it was true that the man had been thinking about marriage, he had shown absolutely no interest in Catherine, which was the only reason Jan had even considered it. She would take care of his house and help him out a bit, and he would be gone for most of the year. He had already agreed not to marry her before she was older, and he was well enough off to afford her a few luxuries, like learning how to read and do maths, even before he was obliged to take care of her.
It was a way to get her out of the house, to have her safe and taken care of and to give her the opportunity to take care of her own life. It was not quite enough to make up for his mistake, but it was the best he could do without putting his own marriage and happiness to risk.
Martha had served them their tea and left them alone. Jan would have liked her to be there to show Catherine support, but he could understand why that might not work out. Martha had only had a polite smile for the girl, and Catherine had barely acknowledged her presence. The air was clearer without her in the room.
He had always liked Alfred. The man was very talented at what he did, always able to make everything work out to his own benefit and helpful towards anyone who he considered a friend. He had enjoyed talking to him and catching up, but Catherine's unwilling display of distress reminded him that he should not let the opportunity be wasted by letting her work up the courage to do something stupid and run off.
“Alfred, my friend, maybe it's time the two of you talk? I'm sure there's plenty for you two to work out without my help.”
Alfred sat up straighter in his seat and shot a glance at Catherine who was trying to compose herself. His face softened and he looked up at Jan who was already walking towards the door.
“Of course. We'll come out and talk to you in a moment.”
Jan left the room and softly closed the door behind him leaving the two people still inside in an awkward silence. Catherine was biting her lip and hid her hands in the folds of her skirt where she grabbed on to the hem so tightly that her fingers started tingling. She could not get herself to look him in the eye, knowing that they were supposed to discuss their future lives together.
“Well, my dear,” Alfred said, breaking the silence. “I assume this is a bit difficult for you, eh? Don't worry about it. Your dad explained some of the situation to me, and the rest is more than obvious.” He nodded towards her still bandaged arm but did not get a reply and did not seem to expect one. Catherine made herself look him in the eye as he spoke, not wanting him to know just how afraid she was.
“The wedding can wait a few years, if you ask me. You'll come and help out with the household till then, and we can work out a date when you're ready. I'll be going away next month, so you should be ready to move in before then. I wont be home before the end of the year, and I'll be going away again soon after that.”
Catherine worked up her courage and finally opened her mouth.
“Do you always travel so much? Later, I mean. My dad said you wanted to have someone to - inherit and, well ...” She trailed off, blushing against her will.
“Oh, don't worry about that just yet. I mean when the time comes we'll find someone who can come and stay and help you out, all right? I already have a housekeeper, a very respectable old girl, so you won't be lonely.”
“I see. Thank you,” she said lamely. He smiled warmly at her.
“Don't worry about it. I'm glad to be able to help you all out.”
He rose and went into the kitchen, leaving the still blushing Catherine alone in the darkening room. She was like a burden being passed on from one man to the other. Alfred clearly saw her as Jan's small trouble-causing daughter more than a future wife. It should be a relief, but it felt like a bitter disappointment.
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tirsdag den 3. maj 2011
Chapter 2, part 2
“I don't think you should stay with us at the house any more,” he said. Before she could protest, he continued. “Maybe for now you can stay here. But it would just be until I find you a good place to stay. I have a friend who has asked about you and who might be willing to pay for a year or two of education before officially asking for your hand.”
Catherine's hopes went sky high and then plummeted to the ground as he spoke.
“You want me to marry? Now?”
“Not right away!” He looked slightly embarrassed. She hoped it was shame. “Like I said, in a year or two... Maybe even much later than that, nothing is decided yet.”
“But I would live in his house as soon as you decided it. And then become his wife soon after?”
“It's a wonderful opportunity for you to make something of yourself, think about that.”
“But what for? Will he allow me to do anything else after he marries me?”
“Now, Catherine,” her father began to sound angry. “I told you nothing has been decided, and you have to agree with me that this is the best solution. I will not have this tone from you.”
“Why can't you just come home?” Catherine whispered. Her father coughed and rose from his position on the floor and went to speak to Mr. Pegg as if he had not heard her.
He left soon after, only stopping to let her know that she would indeed stay with the Pegg family for now. It was better news than she had hoped for, but she was afraid for what would happen next. Pushing it out of her mind, she turned back towards Gabrielle, who had been keeping her company ever since she told her about her fathers plans for her. Gabrielle had not said much, but was very clearly offering her sympathy, which Catherine appreciated.
Her father came back again two weeks later. Catherine had been enjoying herself so much that she had almost been able to forget about the plan he had made for her. The look on her face told her that the news he was bringing were not very good for her. If nothing else, then the bag flung over his arm was a sure sign that something was up. She recognised it as one of the ones her stepmother had had her transport dressed in.
He was in a very festive mood when he handed her what did in fact turn out to be a dress. Martha had sown it with great care for the occasion, possibly as a way of ridding herself of some of the shame she felt. Catherine dutifully bathed and put it on as she had been instructed. Gabrielle silently braided her hair, her movements rushed with the anger she felt but comforting to Catherine.
It was a few hours past noon when she was ready. Her father seemed relaxed and they took their time getting outside. Gabrielle held her hand until they went through the door and Catherine wanted to cry. Her father seemed oblivious to her dark mood and started telling her about how he had met the man she was about to meet on a journey far to the east.
“He's been living here for the past decade, but he has had too much to do to find anyone. His business is really going well, you'll be more than well off if... well, he's not a bad man is what I'm saying. You'll see for yourself when you meet him. He told me he would happily wait a few years and let you study for a while if that is what you wish to do. Like I said, he is quite busy, so he is rarely home. You would really be able to do a lot of interesting things. You could probably even learn how to help him out. I mean, there are things in the trading business that men can't do very well. You could learn how to be a hostess and help him win over people. Or you could even help him with the books. Wouldn't that be exciting?”
Catherine, who had not listened to most of this, nodded and tried to smile. It was obviously no use discussing the issue. She could tell by the firmness in his voice than he was not so much trying to persuade her as trying to cheer her up about it.
The house she had grown up in looked somewhat unfamiliar to her. It could be her absence, her father's presence or just her nervousness, but she did not feel at home or at ease. A slightly strange air in the room told her, before she saw him, that their “guest” had already made himself comfortable in a chair on the other side of the room. Her stepmother had done her best to make the small living room look nice. They rarely used the room when they did not have guests, and it smelled like dust.
The table had been covered with a pristine, white clothe and set with tea and small cakes. The man in the chair rose and strode across the room to greet her father.
“Ah, Alfred,” her father said. “I'm so glad you could make it. This is my daughter, Catherine.”
The man, Alfred, her intended if all went according to plan, turned towards her and shot her a flashing smile. He was tall and dark haired, not bad looking, but at least as old as her father.
“Catherine! How nice to meet you,” he said, then looked back at her father. “Your wife was just telling me that you've been away for the past months? Did you hear anything about the battle?”
The two men settled into their chairs, and Catherine hesitantly followed suit. She sat on the edge of her chair and heard her father tell Alfred about his recent adventures. She did not listen. The entire experience was unreal.
mandag den 2. maj 2011
Chapter 2, part 1
Catherine very quickly got used to the idea of staying with the Peggs. Once Mrs. Pegg had taken care of her for two entire days without looking at her with too much pity, she got used to her caring, and started feeling a little more comfortable. After a week, she found she even enjoyed the woman's care.
She had always tried to avoid the entire family. Their warmth and smiles had annoyed her, but living in the middle of it all made her feel very different about it. She felt happy and at home. It didn't take her long to form a sot of friendship with Gabrielle Pegg, who was only a few months older than her. Gabrielle was a small red headed girl, who always had a smile on her face. Catherine had disliked her before, but after talking to her, it soon became clear that the other girl had more personality than she had first expected.
She was so happy being with them, that she didn't know how long she'd been there the day her father suddenly came to see her. She had pushed all thoughts about her family out of her head, and the reappearance of one of them was enough to make her feel like she'd only just landed on the hard stones. Her bruises suddenly hurt a little more. Her stomach turned when he spoke.
She was not sure she could trust him any more. He must have known how she had had it up until now. And he was older than her, old enough to know better. She only knew the difference after witnessing it at the Peggs'.
She was happy that he left without talking to her, and secretly hoped that he would not come back. He did come back of course. The next day, in fact, and he had an air about him that she disliked. He seemed too happy.
He greeted her with a smile and a hug, neither of which she gave him back, and offered her a small mirror, decorated with small polished rocks and coloured beads. She thanked him in a low voice and went to sit on the other side on the room. Her father did not seem to mind. In fact, he seemed more than happy to share a moment with the Peggs to chat about the latest news and gossip. After a few minutes, she started paying attention, realising they were discussing a small war that had apparently happened earlier in the year. She did not remember ever hearing about it.
“...Wasn't exactly a big battle anyway,” her father was saying. “But I guess it's true that he's the one who lead it.”
“It seems like a terrible risk to take when you don't have any sons or brothers to take your place,” said Mr. Pegg.
Her father nodded grimly. There was a short silence before he continued. “That's just it, you see. There's talk that maybe he knew that and maybe he was trying to make a point.” He waved his hands as Mr. Pegg was about to say something. “But that's not even it. He didn't lead the battle. He was the battle. There were hardly any men with him, and the ones that did follow him fled soon after.” Her father ignored a disapproving sound from Mr. Pegg. Mrs. Pegg was following the conversation intently but did not seem to have much to say.
“They weren't the cowardly type. They said that the prince - His Majesty - That he used … magic.”
Mrs. Pegg stepped back. Mr. Pegg stared at her father for a long time, then spat at his wife's immaculate floors.
“Disgusting,” Mrs. Pegg whispered, though she did not seem to have noticed her husbands reaction.
“Why would he have done a thing like that? He would be the first person to know just how … vile that is.”
Her father shrugged. “It's just what I heard them say, Daniel. I wasn't there to see it. But it seems to be true. He's turned out to be a magic user. Right -”
“Such a shame!” sighed Mrs. Pegg. Catherine's father continued; “Right now he's travelling the borders in the north asking for permission to meet with some of the nobility. He has cast a spell to ensure that he finds a compatible wife, or something disgraceful like that.”
There was silent in the room for a while.
“I've heard about that,” said Mrs. Pegg. “Until he officially proposes to someone, he'll feel a pull towards any woman who would fit him. It makes sense to just ask for the nobles, then. It would get too confusing in a city.” Despite the disgust that was still in her voice when she spoke of magic, there was a small touch of girlishness towards the end of her comment. Both men grunted in response and did their best to change the subject.
Less than an hour had passed when her father came to sit next to her. The silence between them felt somehow precious to her, as she had the feeling that what came next would change her life again.
“I've been thinking about everything, Catherine,” said her father, and she braced herself. “I think I've come up with a solution that will let all of us live a little more peacefully.”
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She had always tried to avoid the entire family. Their warmth and smiles had annoyed her, but living in the middle of it all made her feel very different about it. She felt happy and at home. It didn't take her long to form a sot of friendship with Gabrielle Pegg, who was only a few months older than her. Gabrielle was a small red headed girl, who always had a smile on her face. Catherine had disliked her before, but after talking to her, it soon became clear that the other girl had more personality than she had first expected.
She was so happy being with them, that she didn't know how long she'd been there the day her father suddenly came to see her. She had pushed all thoughts about her family out of her head, and the reappearance of one of them was enough to make her feel like she'd only just landed on the hard stones. Her bruises suddenly hurt a little more. Her stomach turned when he spoke.
She was not sure she could trust him any more. He must have known how she had had it up until now. And he was older than her, old enough to know better. She only knew the difference after witnessing it at the Peggs'.
She was happy that he left without talking to her, and secretly hoped that he would not come back. He did come back of course. The next day, in fact, and he had an air about him that she disliked. He seemed too happy.
He greeted her with a smile and a hug, neither of which she gave him back, and offered her a small mirror, decorated with small polished rocks and coloured beads. She thanked him in a low voice and went to sit on the other side on the room. Her father did not seem to mind. In fact, he seemed more than happy to share a moment with the Peggs to chat about the latest news and gossip. After a few minutes, she started paying attention, realising they were discussing a small war that had apparently happened earlier in the year. She did not remember ever hearing about it.
“...Wasn't exactly a big battle anyway,” her father was saying. “But I guess it's true that he's the one who lead it.”
“It seems like a terrible risk to take when you don't have any sons or brothers to take your place,” said Mr. Pegg.
Her father nodded grimly. There was a short silence before he continued. “That's just it, you see. There's talk that maybe he knew that and maybe he was trying to make a point.” He waved his hands as Mr. Pegg was about to say something. “But that's not even it. He didn't lead the battle. He was the battle. There were hardly any men with him, and the ones that did follow him fled soon after.” Her father ignored a disapproving sound from Mr. Pegg. Mrs. Pegg was following the conversation intently but did not seem to have much to say.
“They weren't the cowardly type. They said that the prince - His Majesty - That he used … magic.”
Mrs. Pegg stepped back. Mr. Pegg stared at her father for a long time, then spat at his wife's immaculate floors.
“Disgusting,” Mrs. Pegg whispered, though she did not seem to have noticed her husbands reaction.
“Why would he have done a thing like that? He would be the first person to know just how … vile that is.”
Her father shrugged. “It's just what I heard them say, Daniel. I wasn't there to see it. But it seems to be true. He's turned out to be a magic user. Right -”
“Such a shame!” sighed Mrs. Pegg. Catherine's father continued; “Right now he's travelling the borders in the north asking for permission to meet with some of the nobility. He has cast a spell to ensure that he finds a compatible wife, or something disgraceful like that.”
There was silent in the room for a while.
“I've heard about that,” said Mrs. Pegg. “Until he officially proposes to someone, he'll feel a pull towards any woman who would fit him. It makes sense to just ask for the nobles, then. It would get too confusing in a city.” Despite the disgust that was still in her voice when she spoke of magic, there was a small touch of girlishness towards the end of her comment. Both men grunted in response and did their best to change the subject.
Less than an hour had passed when her father came to sit next to her. The silence between them felt somehow precious to her, as she had the feeling that what came next would change her life again.
“I've been thinking about everything, Catherine,” said her father, and she braced herself. “I think I've come up with a solution that will let all of us live a little more peacefully.”
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søndag den 1. maj 2011
Chapter 1, part 5
Jan returned four days later, and was received warmly by his wife and their two children. His wife explained to him that Catherine would not be home for another few weeks. He was concerned at first, but accepted that she was staying with their friends and would be fine. He planned to go and see her, but something in his wife face made him keep that decision to himself. Something was wrong and she clearly did not want to talk about it. He would do anything to keep off the subject of Catherine anyway.
Over the years he had detached himself more and more from the girl in an attempt to win back his wife's favour. So far it had been in vain, but it certainly would not help to talk about her. He had brought the twins small trinkets from the traders he had been meeting with. He had brought something for Catherine too, but thoughts of Martha had made him scared of overdoing it.
The first few days were spent in almost bliss as far as he was concerned. Martha did not want them to go out, so they stayed in the house on in the small garden and enjoyed each others' company. Jan could not remember ever spending such days with his family. It seemed almost as if Martha had finally forgiven her. A small part of him insisted it was because the proof of his mistake was no longer around, but the rest of him just felt ashamed.
The shame grew with time, and before he had been home for a week, he made excuses and left, supposedly for his storehouse, but as soon as he was out of sight, he went to the Peggs'. He noticed a few neighbours looking at him strangely, but assumed it was because he had been away for so long. He reached the Pegg house and knocked on the door. There were happy voices sounding from the other side of the door. He could hear Catherine laughing, and his stomach felt like ice. He had not heard her laughing like that. Ever.
He had ignored Martha's obvious dislike of the girl ever since he first brought her to the house in the hopes that Martha would somehow forget as long as he did not remind her. Hearing the girl laugh so happily when in the company of strangers made him understand that he had gone too far. She had been as unhappy as he and his wife despite having no blame. On the other hand, he could hardly speak to his wife about this, They had been so happy without Catherine around.
The door was opened, and Amanda Pegg stared at him in wide-eyed surprise.
“Jan, what are you doing here?” She looked at something behind her, obscured from his view by the door, and seemed suddenly nervous.
“Did Martha send you?”
“No,” he said. His brow furrowed. “Is everything all right?”
“Well...” Amanda seemed completely disturbed by his presence, then straightened her back, looked him in the eyes and smiled. “Of course it is. Why don't you come inside?”
Amanda stepped away from the door and let him in. He nodded his head in thanks and brushed his boots off on the mat that had been laid down inside the house. There was a fire going and it smelled as if Amanda had been cooking. He looked around the room and noticed Catherine sitting with her back turned to him in the other end of the room. She had been playing some sort of game with the Peggs' daughter Gabrielle, who had risen to greet him, polite as usual, but Catherine remained where she was.
Something about the entire situation made him keep quiet. Catherine looked as she usually did, he supposed. Her thick, dark hair was tied in a messy braid that almost touched the floor in her seated position, since she refused to let anyone cut it most of the time, her long arms were looking skinny as usual (another pang of guilt hit him at that - had Martha not been feeding the girl?), but her dress was new. It looked as if she had inherited it from Gabrielle, as the sleeves were slightly too tight.
He walked around her and noticed the big, bluish bruises on her face with the features that had always seemed too large - mouth too wide, nose too big, large eyebrows and eyes that fit. She had a healing cut on her forehead and her arm had been bandaged. Jan stopped moving and simply stared at her for a moment.
“What happened?” he asked, quietly. No one immediately had an answer for him. Something inside him started to move, and when he spoke again, his voice sounded loud and angry. “What happened to her?”
Amanda had followed him across the room and now put her hand on his shoulder. She gently asked him to sit down and have a cup of tea with her, where the two girls could not overhear them. He allowed her to lead him away, but was unable to take his eyes off his daughter, his mind racing. Catherine had not moved in the slightest, her eyes still fixed on the pieces of the game she had been playing. Gabrielle seemed frozen to the spot, end did not move before her mother waved her away.
“I've been wondering what I'd tell people,” said Amanda as she sat him down at the rough work table in the spacious kitchen.
“What people,” Jan asked. “Why don't you just tell me what happened,” he clarified. Amanda seemed to hesitate once more, so he repeated it.
“I'm sorry that no one … told you about it,” she said awkwardly. “There was an incident. That is ...” She furrowed her brows and sighed, clearly getting upset. The she straightened her back in the same way she had done moments earlier in the door.
“Martha thought Catherine stole some money after Catherine had stayed out too late. The money had been gone when she went to ask her why she hadn't been home, and apparently she threw her out of the house and told her to stay in the barn.” Amanda ignored Jane’s incredulous expression. “Catherine went back inside after a while to … well, I think she wanted to talk to Martha, probably give her a piece of her mind, but then she found out that Lillian had taken the money to get her in trouble, and the girls started fighting. When Martha walked in on them, she saw Catherine delivering a blow to Lillian, and she must have jumped to conclusions. She scolded her and wanted her to return to the barn to stay there, and...” She trailed off.
“And she broke her arm,” Jan whispered, slowly getting out of his chair.
“Well, I … That is … I don't know. She threw her down the kitchen stairs, and Catherine landed on the stones.”
Amanda seemed more than ashamed for her friend. Jan did not know what to think. He could not find a reasonable solution to any of it. Amanda seemed to understand. She put her hand on his shoulder again and gently pushed him towards the door.
“Why don't you go home and think it over? I promise I'll take care of her. Just come back when you know what to do. You must have known it couldn't go on forever, Jan.”
Jan nodded dumbly and stepped outside, carefully closing the door behind him. He could almost feel Catherine's presence in the building behind him.
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Over the years he had detached himself more and more from the girl in an attempt to win back his wife's favour. So far it had been in vain, but it certainly would not help to talk about her. He had brought the twins small trinkets from the traders he had been meeting with. He had brought something for Catherine too, but thoughts of Martha had made him scared of overdoing it.
The first few days were spent in almost bliss as far as he was concerned. Martha did not want them to go out, so they stayed in the house on in the small garden and enjoyed each others' company. Jan could not remember ever spending such days with his family. It seemed almost as if Martha had finally forgiven her. A small part of him insisted it was because the proof of his mistake was no longer around, but the rest of him just felt ashamed.
The shame grew with time, and before he had been home for a week, he made excuses and left, supposedly for his storehouse, but as soon as he was out of sight, he went to the Peggs'. He noticed a few neighbours looking at him strangely, but assumed it was because he had been away for so long. He reached the Pegg house and knocked on the door. There were happy voices sounding from the other side of the door. He could hear Catherine laughing, and his stomach felt like ice. He had not heard her laughing like that. Ever.
He had ignored Martha's obvious dislike of the girl ever since he first brought her to the house in the hopes that Martha would somehow forget as long as he did not remind her. Hearing the girl laugh so happily when in the company of strangers made him understand that he had gone too far. She had been as unhappy as he and his wife despite having no blame. On the other hand, he could hardly speak to his wife about this, They had been so happy without Catherine around.
The door was opened, and Amanda Pegg stared at him in wide-eyed surprise.
“Jan, what are you doing here?” She looked at something behind her, obscured from his view by the door, and seemed suddenly nervous.
“Did Martha send you?”
“No,” he said. His brow furrowed. “Is everything all right?”
“Well...” Amanda seemed completely disturbed by his presence, then straightened her back, looked him in the eyes and smiled. “Of course it is. Why don't you come inside?”
Amanda stepped away from the door and let him in. He nodded his head in thanks and brushed his boots off on the mat that had been laid down inside the house. There was a fire going and it smelled as if Amanda had been cooking. He looked around the room and noticed Catherine sitting with her back turned to him in the other end of the room. She had been playing some sort of game with the Peggs' daughter Gabrielle, who had risen to greet him, polite as usual, but Catherine remained where she was.
Something about the entire situation made him keep quiet. Catherine looked as she usually did, he supposed. Her thick, dark hair was tied in a messy braid that almost touched the floor in her seated position, since she refused to let anyone cut it most of the time, her long arms were looking skinny as usual (another pang of guilt hit him at that - had Martha not been feeding the girl?), but her dress was new. It looked as if she had inherited it from Gabrielle, as the sleeves were slightly too tight.
He walked around her and noticed the big, bluish bruises on her face with the features that had always seemed too large - mouth too wide, nose too big, large eyebrows and eyes that fit. She had a healing cut on her forehead and her arm had been bandaged. Jan stopped moving and simply stared at her for a moment.
“What happened?” he asked, quietly. No one immediately had an answer for him. Something inside him started to move, and when he spoke again, his voice sounded loud and angry. “What happened to her?”
Amanda had followed him across the room and now put her hand on his shoulder. She gently asked him to sit down and have a cup of tea with her, where the two girls could not overhear them. He allowed her to lead him away, but was unable to take his eyes off his daughter, his mind racing. Catherine had not moved in the slightest, her eyes still fixed on the pieces of the game she had been playing. Gabrielle seemed frozen to the spot, end did not move before her mother waved her away.
“I've been wondering what I'd tell people,” said Amanda as she sat him down at the rough work table in the spacious kitchen.
“What people,” Jan asked. “Why don't you just tell me what happened,” he clarified. Amanda seemed to hesitate once more, so he repeated it.
“I'm sorry that no one … told you about it,” she said awkwardly. “There was an incident. That is ...” She furrowed her brows and sighed, clearly getting upset. The she straightened her back in the same way she had done moments earlier in the door.
“Martha thought Catherine stole some money after Catherine had stayed out too late. The money had been gone when she went to ask her why she hadn't been home, and apparently she threw her out of the house and told her to stay in the barn.” Amanda ignored Jane’s incredulous expression. “Catherine went back inside after a while to … well, I think she wanted to talk to Martha, probably give her a piece of her mind, but then she found out that Lillian had taken the money to get her in trouble, and the girls started fighting. When Martha walked in on them, she saw Catherine delivering a blow to Lillian, and she must have jumped to conclusions. She scolded her and wanted her to return to the barn to stay there, and...” She trailed off.
“And she broke her arm,” Jan whispered, slowly getting out of his chair.
“Well, I … That is … I don't know. She threw her down the kitchen stairs, and Catherine landed on the stones.”
Amanda seemed more than ashamed for her friend. Jan did not know what to think. He could not find a reasonable solution to any of it. Amanda seemed to understand. She put her hand on his shoulder again and gently pushed him towards the door.
“Why don't you go home and think it over? I promise I'll take care of her. Just come back when you know what to do. You must have known it couldn't go on forever, Jan.”
Jan nodded dumbly and stepped outside, carefully closing the door behind him. He could almost feel Catherine's presence in the building behind him.
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lørdag den 30. april 2011
Chapter 1, part 4
The doctor announced that Catherine had broken her arm and that anything else would quickly heal with a bit of rest. He had cleaned a wound on her forehead and bandaged her arm carefully, then left her in the care of the Peggs. Mrs. Pegg insisted that she stay with them until 'things were sorted out' and Catherine did not have the energy to decline. She fell asleep very soon after, leaving the Peggs to discuss their plans.
In the meantime, Martha Emerson sat in her kitchen. A single candle burned on the table, its light helped along by the weak flames of the fire in the herd. Her twin children had been sent to bed early. She was trying to get her thoughts together, to understand what had happened to her life. She had badly hurt a girl she had been raising as her own. Well, not as her own, really, but in theory. As much as the girl's presence continued to disturb her, like a small cut on a right hand finger, she had never wanted to really hurt her.
It was not the girl's fault that she existed, Martha knew that. But she still despised her with every fibre of her being. All she wanted was to forget.
Her future had looked very bright when she was young. Her family had earned quite a lot of money during the years leading up to the end of her childhood, making them suddenly relatively high standing citizens. Or at least put them a great deal higher than they had ever been before. She had always been a pretty girl, and as she matured, she'd grown into somewhat of a beauty, earning her a nice amount of proposals. She had been married off to Jan just before she turned twenty, and it had been as good as perfect. He had been fairly young as well, just slightly less wealthy than her own father but well on his way to earning a good fortune doing business with traders from faraway countries.
When they didn't have children even after the first few years, he had started cooling towards her, as if the lack of heirs was something she was causing to spite him. She had been furious, of course, and had spent week after week in her parent's home, crying to her mother. He had been even less happy with her after she started that little habit, and soon they barely spoke. The chance of their producing an heir fell even further. Seven years after their wedding, their marriage had been on paper only. They only met on important occasions and rarely succeeded to look like a couple in public.
Then her parents had died, one after the other, of the same fever. She had been forced to go back to her own home as her brother sold their parents' house. Her husband's business that had seemed so promising, had shrivelled and was as good as gone. He still worked hard to make things work out, but his demeanour had changed and his luck was gone. He had not been happy to have her around and had done his best to leave her alone. When they finally tried talking about their issues, he had shocked her to the core when he suggested that they have another woman carry them an heir.
He'd apologised and even begun to warm up towards her after that. She had still been beautiful and young enough that she felt that she deserved his reverence more than anything, and finally receiving it was like a healing balm to the ache in her chest. For six months, things had looked brighter than ever despite her mourning of her parents. She had begun thinking about other options, like adopting a poor, little orphan, when she had realised that she would no longer have to.
She had wanted to keep the good news to herself, but Jan had sensed her excitement right away, and in the end she had told him that she was in a family way.
She had expected him to be at least as happy as she was, probably even more as he was the one who wanted children so badly, but instead his face fell. He had not wanted to talk to her for a long time, making her feel more lost than ever before. For the sake of her health, she had kept quiet and thought of more pleasant things.
A few months before she expected to deliver, her husband had come home late. His face had been stricken with something that looked like grief but could also have been regret or even anger. Before she could ask him anything he had, most uncharacteristically, broken into tears and fallen to his knees, begging her for forgiveness. At first she had thought he meant to repair the renewed gap between them and had almost been happy. Then, as she listened to his ramblings, it became clear what he had done.
The mother had been a poor farmer's daughter, who had accepted his indecent proposal out of need. She had died giving birth to a tiny, long limbed infant covered in black hair that had been named after her. The infant was with a wet-nurse in town. He wanted them to raise her together with her child.
She had, of course, never forgiven him. She had at times pretended to have warm feelings form him once more, for the sake of the children, but no matter how much he pleaded or how many declarations of love and faithfulness he gave her, she never accepted, choosing instead to punish him with her silent, suffering looks and her mistreatment of his bastard daughter. She had never been kind to the girl, often punishing her harder than necessary and always letting her work hard to earn her food. The girl called her mother in the continued belief than it was the truth, but it only made Martha despise her more.
But what she had done this afternoon was still unforgivable. The girl was still fifteen, still a child, and she had no excuse. Her guilt and anger tormented her, and in the end, both were focused towards her husband, as usual, who had just sent her a message announcing that he would be home before the week was over. She shuddered.
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