“Scarlett, get your feet off the table.”
Her mother scowled at her through her knitting. It was
the second time the order had been evoked in the past hour. Scarlett remained
in her current position, gazing out the window, and seemingly oblivious to
everything around her. Her cross stitch remained forgotten on her lap.
“Scarlett,
your feet off the table at once!” her mother snapped.
Scarlett was drawn out of her reverie and stared at the
woman before her with an utmost blank expression.
“Excuse
me?” she said, not attempting to be rude, but sounding it regardless.
“Goodness
gracious Scarlett! Sit up straight. Remove your feet. Behave like the woman you are! Why can’t you
follow your sisters’ examples?”
“I
am not a woman,” said Scarlett. “And I don’t have to follow anyone.”
Petulantly, she slid farther down her wicker chair and
uncrossed her legs in the most unwomanly manner.
“Enough!”
outraged, her mother set down her knitting and grabbed Scarlett by the arm. “If
you so wish to seem a barbarian, I shall treat you as such.”
Scarlett mused a struggle, but found that she was not in
the mood. Instead, she allowed her body to fall limp, thus increasing her
mother’s efforts to extract her from the room. As she was pulled along the
ground, she noticed her sisters Harriett and Caroline snickering in the corner.
Encouraged, Scarlett closed her eyes, stuck out her tongue, and imagined
herself a dead corpse being dragged out of a crime scene.
“Enough
of this nonsense! Stand up on your feet,” cried her mother, exasperatedly. “You
are truly a hopeless case.”
“Hopeless
case am I?” said the dead corpse, “Why you’re more a disaster for birthing such
a case!”
“No
more Scarlett. Not another word!” her mother managed to open the door to
Scarlett’s room and shoved her inside. “You wait until your father hears about
this!”
Cursing under her breath in an even more unwomanly
manner, her mother shut the door and was gone, leaving Scarlett to stare at the
ceiling for she did not feel like sitting up.
All the rules, all of the stupid
rules. Scarlett hated them. There was no reason why she couldn’t put her feet
up when they felt sore or eat without a handkerchief on her lap. She was no
child, she knew how to eat without making a mess. She was sixteen, a perfectly
good age to do whatever she pleased-
Knock! Knock!
Knock!
Scarlett froze as she heard the front door. A familiar
voice caused strange feelings to erupt from her navel as she attempted to
eavesdrop.
“Hello
Madam Melcott, is Scarlett home?” came the boyish voice of Jeremy Boise.
“Yes
Jeremy, she is home, but she cannot see you for she’s busy,” came the sound of
her mother.
“Busy?
Or in trouble?” came the inquisitive remark of Jeremy Boise.
“Always
a clever boy, aren’t you?” said her mother. “But very well, yes, she has not
been in a graceful mood of late. I suggest you return in a few days.”
“Yes
Madam Melcott.” He was quite the suave liar. “Have a good day.”
“Have
a good day Jeremy,” and with that, the front door was closed.
Scarlett listened intently. She did not have to wait long
until there came the familiar sound of wood scraping against wood. A slight breeze swept through her room from
the window.
“Hello
beautiful.”
Scarlett stared up at Jeremy from where she laid on the
floor. He was a very handsome young man, with curling light hair, thin
eyebrows, gray eyes, and a slender complexion that exemplified his cheek bones.
“Hello,
how nice of you to drop in.”
She moved to sit up, but he stopped her.
“No,
wait.” His smile became mischievous and he bent down. He made as though to give
her a peck, but withdrew quickly just as she began to reach out to him.
“Jeremy
Boise, if you were any more a tease, my curls would be gone,” Scarlett rolled
her eyes.
“Not
as much as you, what with being locked up all the time where I can’t see you,”
he replied. “Is behaving appropriately such a chore?”
“Behaving
to the social convention of my mother is not something I am willing to stoop to
in order to grace you with my presence,” said Charlotte, amused, as she rose.
“Anyhow, you’re always welcome in through my window.”
“And
alas, only that,” Jeremy sighed tragically, sitting at the foot of her bed.
“If
the liberties I bestow upon you are too much for your temptations to contend
with, perhaps it would be best that I revoke them,” said Scarlett, sitting
beside him.
“You
sound like your mother.”
“What
a horrible thing to say!” she exclaimed, “Your insults have improved quite.”
They laughed silently. Jeremy grabbed her hand in between
his,
“I
fear the hindquarters of our joke may come in at any a moment. I must be off
now.”
“Already?
But why, you’ve only just arrived. She won’t be in soon, her pride is larger than
her waist, if you can believe that,” Scarlett tightened her hold on him.
“I
feel that we’ve broken the rules enough for one day,” he said.
“Come along, we’ve broken the rules before.
Who’s to say there’s a greater hell for those who’ve broken the same rules many
a time?”
“I’ll come back tomorrow.”
“I would wish you to come back
tonight.”
“I
wish so too, but it cannot be.” He caressed her face softly. “I’ll be back,
soon as I can.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.
In the meanwhile, do try to stay out of trouble. I’ve taken notice of splinters
in unmentionable locations from my breaking and entering,” he rose, laughing.
Scarlett nodded, unable to fight off a grin.
“Goodbye,”
Jeremy quickly pecked her and dashed to the window.
“Goodbye.”
And he was gone.
Scarlett laid back in bed and
decided to take a nap, not in the mood to continue her crochet or practice her
French. It felt as though her eyes had barely closed when she was again awoken
by the sound of her door.
“Now,
did you have sufficient amount of time to think over your actions?” demanded
her mother. “I assume you’ve served your punishment righteously?”
“Yes
ma’am,” said Scarlett. It was very hard to conceal her smile.
“Very
well, you may go off to supper now,” her mother said. Scarlett rose and exited,
“But this is not over, mind you. We’re going to have a serious talk when your
father gets home.”
Indeed,
when Scarlett’s father arrived, there was a great discussion over the course of
her future and whether or not a child such as herself could ever be tame enough
to find a suitable husband. Words were exchanged back and forth between her
mother and father, while Scarlett merely sat in a chair between them and
daydreamed of the day’s earlier events.
“Scarlett,
are you even listening to us?” demanded her mother.
“Huh?”
It was clearly not the correct answer
“The
girl has the attention span of an insect!” exclaimed her father, “What in the
world has your mind preoccupied so?”
She decided for the truth,
“Jeremy,”
Scarlett replied.
There was a momentary pause where her parents exchanged
looks.
“Jeremy
Boise?” voiced her father. “That boy from across the way?”
“Yes.”
“And
what about him do you think about in such a focused manner?” he commanded to
know.
“Nothing
scandalous. He’s just a well boy, you know. A fine gentleman. I’d say you’d
approve of him – as a prospective husband, I mean,” Scarlett said.
“Well,”
began her mother, rather surprised, “He’s a fine boy, I shall admit, but I’ve
heard talk about him in town.”
“Talk?”
inquired Scarlett. “What sort of talk?”
“And
you intend for him to ask for your hand in marriage?” asked her father,
skeptically.
“What
talk?” Scarlett repeated, directed towards her mother. “Well?”
“They
say his parents have arranged him with Mr. Chauncy’s daughter, Elizabeth.
They’re to marry soon,” her mother replied. “I assumed you knew, him being a
close friend of yours and all.”
“Oh
yes, I heard Mr. Chauncy speaking in regards to his daughter’s engagement
to Boise,” her father added. “I assumed
it was with the elder son, Richard, however…”
It was as though something large had knocked the breath
out of her. Scarlett couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t speak. Jeremy was – engaged? Her parents were saying
things, but she could not hear them.
“No,
nonsense,” said Scarlett, mostly to herself. “Utter nonsense!”
And without waiting for a reaction, she stormed out of
the parlor and ran up the stairs until she reached the attic. There wasn’t a
chance she’d go back to her room anytime soon, not where she’d seen him last.
That horrible boy. That ghastly fraud!! The trait she had so endeared now caused
her a vastness of hatred. Suave liar he was! That bastard! And to avoid
damaging the nearby furnishings, Scarlett curled up into a ball and contented
herself with shrieking enough curse words to render a congregation of nuns into
a shock induced coma.
