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Year 1870—
"Milady... no... Milady," the maid cried, holding the dress of a girl who had pushed aside the blue curtains and was about to jump.
Tears fell from the maid's eyes as she realized the extent of what the young miss was about to do. Jumping to her death—God forbid that she would allow it to happen, not on her watch. "Milady, you cannot, you must not..." Her chest heaved up and down as she suppressed the fear building up inside of her.
The girl turned, her red hair twirling. Her face appeared calm despite the situation. Tiny red freckles adorned her nose, with a raised red eyebrow and dark amber eyes fixed on the maiden who held her dress, preventing her from jumping.
"I would rather die than be forced to marry a man much older than my father," she declared, turning as if to jump.
However, the maiden firmly grasped her dress, this time even holding onto one leg. "No, no. It is better to marry him than to end your life this way. You are far too valuable, Miss Marybeth."
"Marry?" the girl gasped, staring at her maid in horror. "You did not just say 'marry,' Mrs. Jenny." Although every maiden was to be addressed by their title, the young girl was very close and respectful to the older lady.
The maiden locked eyes with her, and shook her head. "Young Miss Marybeth, I hate it too that you are to marry him," she bit her tongue. Of course, she wouldn't make her daughter marry an old man as well. But since when did women have a say in this world? "I'm just... life might not be so bad. I mean, you could marry first and see for yourself before deciding to..." She sighed deeply. Mary Beth might be the young miss of the house, but she had been kind to her and was far too young to end her life.
Mary scoffed as she stared back at the open window. The window was left ajar, allowing the cold night wind to caress her, but she remained unfazed. Her thoughts drifted back to the past few days when her father introduced her to the bulky old man with a funny accent, 'Mr John'. The man's teeth were missing, and his breath was quite unpleasant. He appeared much older than her father, perhaps in his late seventies.
She had been shocked, pleading with her father and mother for a way out of it. However, her father refused to listen to her. Since the family business was failing, marrying the old man, who was a prestigious figure in society, was seen as a way to help the business flourish. Her father did not hesitate to accept the offer; after all, the business was all he cared about.
"Let go," Marybeth gritted her teeth, shaking off the maid's hand that held her leg firmly. "Let go, I cannot stay here." The wedding was scheduled for tomorrow, but there was no way she was going to marry him.
"Miss Mary..." the maid panicked as MaryBeth tossed her hands away apologetically and then gave the maid a small smile. "I won't die, do not worry."
"But if you jump..." the maid began, blinking back tears. "Do not do this, my dear."
Mary climbed onto the window, causing the old iron ledge to creak as her foot reached it. Standing there, she turned to look at the maid kneeling next to the window, murmuring prayers with clasped palms and eyes wide with worry. "I won't die if I jump," Mary sighed, almost chuckling. Her room was on the first floor, so even though the mansion had a few steps leading up to it, she would likely only strain her leg if she jumped; the ground wasn't far from the window. But knowing Mrs. Jenny, the older woman would probably be scared regardless.
"Look," Marybeth pointed down, her gaze fixed on the marble ground below. Her room was closest to the fence, making it hard for any guards to spot her. She could easily jump down and climb the mini-fence. "I won't die jumping," she smiled. All she needed was an escape out of here.
Mrs. Jenny hurried towards the window, peering down to see the ground not far away. "Oh, my child," she let out a sigh of relief, then looked up at Mary. "Young miss, it is still not safe to go dow....." She didn't finish her sentence before Mary jumped down from the window.
She gasped, her eyes fixed on the young girl.
Mary had strained her leg just as she thought, but it was only minor. Quickly standing, she dusted off the dirt from her maroon dress. Amber eyes looked up to regard the maid. "When asked, let them know we have not spoken tonight." Before the maid could say anything, she leaped towards the fence, climbing it effortlessly and jumping to the other side of the field.
Shortly after, loud banging was heard on the door behind Mrs Jenny. She shrank farther towards the wall, her eyes fixed on the open window, wondering if she should escape with Mary. But her legs refused to move, and her heart was beating too fast with fear.
"Miss Mary," a male voice called from the other side of the door, "Your father has requested your presence."
Panic surged through Mrs Jenny as she contemplated what to do. The banging continued, and the male voice urged, "You must make haste."
Maid Jenny got up, looking back and forth from the door to the window. Then, she cleared her throat and said, "The young miss is having her bath."
"We will wait," the person replied.
Mrs Jenny bit her finger, wondering how she could convince the guards to leave. "We will attend shortly," she added.
This seemed to vex the person outside, as they banged on the door once more. Mrs Jenny shrank back, staring at the door. Soon, the doorknob was being turned forcefully, and to her horror, the door burst open, and in came two burly men, men she had never seen before.
—
It was late at night, and most of the young misses with their chaperones had gone to sleep. No noble or decent lady would be seen out this late, let alone coming to a club where men reeked of alcohol and engaged in gambling or spent time with prostitutes - women of the lowest value.
Mary stood in front of the seedy club, observing as men and women gathered around. The women wore well-fitted bodices, displaying cleavages, while the men smoked pipes and held these ladies close, many of whom were likely married. "Drats!"
What was she doing here? The club was large, with a door wide open and inviting. Anyone who saw her would assume she was there to spend the night with some drunken men.
Although she wore only her maroon chemise gown, unlike the tightly fitted bodices, she doubted she would be treated differently from the prostitutes. Soon, the bodyguards back home would search for her. Perhaps Mr. John's men as well. They would realize she had escaped and come looking for her.
Marybeth took a deep breath. She could have walked past the club like any decent lady from a noble home would, but this was her only chance. Perhaps tarnishing her name would make the old peer lose interest in her. Yes, she would bring shame to her family, but it was better than marrying an old man whose spit touched her face every time he spoke.
As she walked towards the club, Marybeth ignored the whistles from men and the scrutinizing gazes of women leaning against the wall. Her heart pounded with fear with each step, but she kept moving forward.
Inside, she was met with loud chatter. Men sat at tables gambling cards, while others sat on stools at the bar, drinking and conversing with fair complexioned ladies.
Marybeth was not considered beautiful by traditional standards. She often felt intimidated by ladies with black hair or brown hair and very fair skin. All she had were her red hair and red freckles, which she didn't find particularly pleasing, and her skin was never the brightest to attract a man.
Nevertheless, in this club, hungry eyes from men still sought hers. Marybeth stood in a corner, gulping nervously, her hands fidgeting as she wondered what to do now that she was finally inside.
"Oh, you there," an icy voice spoke behind her. Mary's hair stood on end, her eyes filled with worry as she felt a man's breath next to her skin. "Did you come for me?" he laughed.
Mary turned to be greeted by a man around his fifties, most of his teeth gone. From the way he dressed, one could tell he reeked of wealth, and she was certain he had assumed she was among the prostitutes.
"I came to see my husband," she lied, taking a few steps back.
The man watched her with intrigue, his smile too wide, making Mary worried that he might have other plans. "Your husband in a club?" he asked, though it was clear from the way he spoke that he did not believe her.
Mary nodded, stepping back in an attempt to flee. The man did not move, his gaze following her. "I can take care of you, beautiful. A night with me will do."
Mary's eyes widened with horror. Even though she was willing to give herself to any man, she couldn't bear the idea of it being this old man. "No, I will wait for my husband," she stated, turning away from him. But when she turned, two huge men, with muscles visible through their tight suits, blocked her path. She retreated, her eyes flicking from the two huge men to the man behind her, who wore a wide, sinister smile. Drat!
Her gaze scanned the club, praying for some sort of miracle, but all she saw was a place filled with people who had come only for their desires.
"Where is that girl?" she heard a loud voice, coming from the door. Her gaze followed it to behold Mr. John, the man who was supposed to marry her, with two large guards following him.
Oh no! She panicked.