more than he was telling, but the man clammed up and left as soon as he could. Suddenly, she stopped pacing.
“I am going into town,” she announced. “Allow me the carriage.” Her husband waved her away, as if saying ‘go do what you will.’ Mrs. Hays called to her maid, hurrying to her bedroom.
“Send the man servant to the castle,” she instructed the girl. “Tell him to ask the steward to send us a guard to accompany us into town. There have been reports of thieves along the road and I don’t want to be robbed.” The girl curtsied and ran to do her mistress’ bidding.
UNLIKE ALL of Joseph’s previous letters, the latest offering held but few words. Elizabeth opened it and immediately halted her stride. She saw shewould easily read it before even reaching the beach.
Sitting down on a nearby stone, she hastily scanned the bold, scrolling script. Using short words--as if in a great hurry--the writer spoke of how he was glad to hear that she was so nearby and hoped she was well. The last sentence made her stand up in anticipation:
“I will be in town until sundown; hopefully Harold will give you this letter with haste. If you can procure a servant to accompany you, I pray you would visit the forge. There is but one, by the entrance to the Stone Mountain Estate. If you have no objection, I very much wish to see you and speak with you. – Joseph”
Smiling to herself Elizabeth turned and flew up the path, hoping fervently that her mother or father had some errand to run. To her happy relief, she beheld the waiting carriage in the yard, where their manservant was hitching up the horses.
“Thomas…” she said to the servant, smiling. “Are we going into town?” The man nodded, drawing a bridle over the horse’s head.
“Yes, miss,” he said, pulling a strap tighter. “Madam has requested to go within the hour. His lordship is sending over a guard to ride with us.”
“There are thieves on the road?” Elizabeth said, paling. The servant shook his head.
“Don’t you worry, miss,” he said. “Likely the lord is but being careful.”
With this, Elizabeth ran towards the house and up the steps. She encountered her mother in the entry, putting on her gloves with a practiced deliberation. Mrs. Hays saw her daughter and fixed her with a cold look.
“Even though Harold is merely a servant, you must not run off like that again,” she instructed. “You must marry, and I am trying to get you a proper husband; one wealthy enough to get us out of this… dung-heap. Perhaps you may even attract the eye of a nobleman. If we are not invited to this ball such will not happen.”
Though tempted to argue wit her mother Elizabeth pushed the insult she felt down, hoping to procure a ride.
“Are you going into town, Mother?” she asked, trying to sound pleasant. Her mother gave her a curt nod.
“The Countess Beckenridge has been spending a good deal of time at the dressmakers in the village. Though it is a piddling town, they do have a decent notion of style and proper fabrics. I hope to see her and give her the information I have gathered. I think she may be interested to hear it.” Elizabeth did not think so, but she remained quiet.
Mrs. Hays looked at her daughter carefully.
“I will overlook your behavior and allow you to accompany me,” she said, taking her best bonnet from the maid; she turned to look into a mirror on the wall, setting the hat on her head and adjusting it just so. “You will need to be fitted for a new gown anyway, once we are invited. I will look over the dressmaker’s wares to see if they have anything suitable. Ah! The shops I used to frequent… to be relegated to a village dressmaker, it is too cruel.”
Mrs. Hays sighed, turning from the mirror. “However… the Countess will be there, so we must make the most of it. Hurry along child; put on your good bonnet and the silk shawl.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Elizabeth said, giving a small curtsy because she knew
“I am going into town,” she announced. “Allow me the carriage.” Her husband waved her away, as if saying ‘go do what you will.’ Mrs. Hays called to her maid, hurrying to her bedroom.
“Send the man servant to the castle,” she instructed the girl. “Tell him to ask the steward to send us a guard to accompany us into town. There have been reports of thieves along the road and I don’t want to be robbed.” The girl curtsied and ran to do her mistress’ bidding.
UNLIKE ALL of Joseph’s previous letters, the latest offering held but few words. Elizabeth opened it and immediately halted her stride. She saw shewould easily read it before even reaching the beach.
Sitting down on a nearby stone, she hastily scanned the bold, scrolling script. Using short words--as if in a great hurry--the writer spoke of how he was glad to hear that she was so nearby and hoped she was well. The last sentence made her stand up in anticipation:
“I will be in town until sundown; hopefully Harold will give you this letter with haste. If you can procure a servant to accompany you, I pray you would visit the forge. There is but one, by the entrance to the Stone Mountain Estate. If you have no objection, I very much wish to see you and speak with you. – Joseph”
Smiling to herself Elizabeth turned and flew up the path, hoping fervently that her mother or father had some errand to run. To her happy relief, she beheld the waiting carriage in the yard, where their manservant was hitching up the horses.
“Thomas…” she said to the servant, smiling. “Are we going into town?” The man nodded, drawing a bridle over the horse’s head.
“Yes, miss,” he said, pulling a strap tighter. “Madam has requested to go within the hour. His lordship is sending over a guard to ride with us.”
“There are thieves on the road?” Elizabeth said, paling. The servant shook his head.
“Don’t you worry, miss,” he said. “Likely the lord is but being careful.”
With this, Elizabeth ran towards the house and up the steps. She encountered her mother in the entry, putting on her gloves with a practiced deliberation. Mrs. Hays saw her daughter and fixed her with a cold look.
“Even though Harold is merely a servant, you must not run off like that again,” she instructed. “You must marry, and I am trying to get you a proper husband; one wealthy enough to get us out of this… dung-heap. Perhaps you may even attract the eye of a nobleman. If we are not invited to this ball such will not happen.”
Though tempted to argue wit her mother Elizabeth pushed the insult she felt down, hoping to procure a ride.
“Are you going into town, Mother?” she asked, trying to sound pleasant. Her mother gave her a curt nod.
“The Countess Beckenridge has been spending a good deal of time at the dressmakers in the village. Though it is a piddling town, they do have a decent notion of style and proper fabrics. I hope to see her and give her the information I have gathered. I think she may be interested to hear it.” Elizabeth did not think so, but she remained quiet.
Mrs. Hays looked at her daughter carefully.
“I will overlook your behavior and allow you to accompany me,” she said, taking her best bonnet from the maid; she turned to look into a mirror on the wall, setting the hat on her head and adjusting it just so. “You will need to be fitted for a new gown anyway, once we are invited. I will look over the dressmaker’s wares to see if they have anything suitable. Ah! The shops I used to frequent… to be relegated to a village dressmaker, it is too cruel.”
Mrs. Hays sighed, turning from the mirror. “However… the Countess will be there, so we must make the most of it. Hurry along child; put on your good bonnet and the silk shawl.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Elizabeth said, giving a small curtsy because she knew
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