𝑰𝑵𝑲 • 𝑻𝒆𝒘𝒌𝒆𝒔𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒚 / 𝑳𝒐𝒖𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒈𝒆

Aid

7 months ago

It was rare that Florence got a day off. She spent most days laboring around the manor and most nights sneaking off to meet her friend. The exceptions were holidays; Easter, St. Patrick's day and so on, but oddly enough, not Christmas. She shuddered at the memory of that night, her hideous garment haunting her, not to mention Tewkesbury. She thought he had been odd that day, but decided it was best to just push it away entirely and try to forget the night as a whole. Remembering it won't do me any good.

Today was Valentine's Day. February 14th, 1831. A day which held absolutely no significance to Florence, by choice of course, and resided only on calendars, and only occupied some small, far away corner of her busy brain. She knew not to dwell on romance, it was fun in theory, she had to admit, but she had turned 15 on the cusp of the new year and knew that she would be married within the next 2 years, if even that long.

She had known this since age 9, a conversation she vividly remembers having with her mother.

"You ought not to dream Florence dear, we've everything sorted out for you." Her mother's voice was reassuring, lulling Her into a calm, making her feel relief in the heavy avy words.

"We'll find you a nice lad and you'll live as comfortable a life as people like us can live. Then of course there'll be children- but no need to worry about that sort of thing until you're at least 18." The woman smiled at the young girl; A child with her future splayed out in front of her, every corner and curve, carved since birth, permanent.

And so, completely ignoring the day's purpose, she had woken up that morning, read a page from the book Tewkesbury had given her the previous year, and set out to find the boy. They had made plans to go for a stroll, taking advantage of the oddly warm weather they had been getting since the beginning of the week, the sun always in sight and her rays of warmth cutting through the odd cloud here and there.

He stood waiting for her arrival, shaded by the outstretched branches of a tree so dense with greenery that no sky could be seen from beneath.His hands rubbed together and, getting distracted in the movement, he missed her approach. The two exchanged brief greetings and excitedly set off for the day.

Florence felt like she could tell him most things. Maybe it was because she'd known him for so long, or because she knew he had no-one else to tell. The reason wasn't important, she trusted him and that's all that mattered. She hoped that he trusted her enough to tell her most things, a one sided relationship would be too painful to watch die, as they inevitably do.

She turned her head to the side, glancing up at him, and huffing a short laugh at what she saw. Tongue between teeth and hair falling into his face and he looked downwards, concentrating as he tried to line up his footsteps with hers. He removed himself from his thoughts and cracked a curious smile in her direction.

"What?" He laughed, confused yet amused by her giggles.

"Nothing- it's nothing." Her smile widening with each word. "You just look really funny like that." She looked around, grassy green fields surrounding them, the dew drops on the blades sparkling in the sunlight. "We're in such a beautiful place, and you decide that the most interest thing around here are our feet." He joined her in laughter sheepishly, embarrassed that she had noticed his habits.

They reached their destination, a small lake on the outskirts of the land, between Basilwether and the neighbouring estate. Tewkesbury had noticed it on one of his uncle's maps a few days ago and decided it would be fun to take her there. She'd love it there, its nice... quiet.

As they neared the water's edge, the boy began to remove his shoes, then socks, and undid the cuffs of his sleeves. Just as his hands made their way to the buttons of his blouse, Florence grabbed his hands in her own, holding them in place and simultaneously halting their movements.