Chapter III
The Silversmith
Madeleine Gray's Journal - Continued
My eyelashes fluttered open, and I found myself in my bedroom once again. It was quiet, and I was sure that there was no one in there, now. Seeing that it was only eighty-thirty five, a few minutes before Sarah should have my breakfast, I immediately got out my diary and started writing.
It was around 8:44 now, and I heard a knock at the door.
"Come in." I said.
Sarah entered the room, smiling. She had my breakfast on a silver tray - it had a delectable odor.
"Breakfast, Miss Madeleine," she said, putting the tray on the table. "Please try to hurry, so I can help you dress. I have to go into town soon to pick up an order that your father placed."
I frowned, eyeing Sarah's weary face. It was so early, and yet, she was so tired. We only had four other servants, and she did most of the work. "No, you need to rest. I'll go pick up the order for you."
"Are you sure? It's okay, I can go." She said.
"No, I insist."
She breathed a sigh of relief. "Alright, you need to be there by 9:05. Eat your breakfast, and then call me. I'll help you dress and then give you the directons to the store."
I must get ready for today - I shall write later.
Helena Gray's Diary
29 July
9:15 AM
After I finished my quick breakfast this morning, I decided to take out my violin and practice a few of the songs that we had been given to study for music class. There is to be a party in next week, and many eligible bachelors will be there. The goal is to find husbands for Isabelle, Madeleine, and myself. Mr. Kent, our instructor, gave Madeleine and I seductive songs to woo our potential suitors.
I went over too Madeleine to see if she was interested, but she was gone. Where she was, I did not know. I don't think she ever enjoyed music anyway - she didn't practice it outside of our lessons, and I was probably the last person she'd want to practice with.
Madeleiene Gray's Diary
Evening
Today was a mix of good and bad. The morning was well, and after I ate a delicious breakfast of oatmeal and buttered toast, Sarah told me that she had to pick up the order at the silversmith. Father had placed an order for a custom shield, for General Harris's birthday.
Sarah gave me the directions the store, which was by the dock, in a semi-circle of shacks. I could recognize it immediately. Although it was large than the avarage shack, It was old and worn down, in need of repair. The wood that held the shack together was rotting, partially grown over with moss. The words SIMMONS FAMILY SILVERSMITH were painted in large black letters above the door, part of which was missing.
I opened the door, where I came into a narrow, claustrophobic room. I guessed that it was a hallway of sorts. There were two benches on either side, with glints of silver, which I made out to be pistols. They were absolutely beautiful. The handiwork and detail was perfect. I began to stand on the bench to see if I get a closer look when I felt a thick, firm hand on my hip.
"Do not touch." said a calm voice. "Those are for my clients."
I turned sharply, my cheeks reddening with embarrassment. A young man was staring at me, his wide mouth curled in a smile. His light brown hair, long and unkempt, curled at his chin. His eyes were a soft, gleaming gray - almost silver.
"I-I-I'm s-sorry." said I. I didn't usually stutter, but I was frozen with fear and embarrassment. The man seemed young, nice, and he was handsome. I didn't want to go make a bad first impression on him.
He laughed. "It's fine, you didn't know. Anyway, is there anything I can help you with, Miss?"
"I came to pick u-up and or-order, m-my father placed it." As I spoke, I could feel my face get red-hot and my body shake a little. I didn't know what it was, but I hadn't spent much time around men besides Father, and I didn't know how to react when I was with them.
"Your Father's name?" he asked, taking out a scroll of parchment and scanning it.
"Ad-Admiral Edward Gray," I told him promptly.
"Really?" He responded, smiling. "Are you his daughter? Madeleine?"
I grinned. "How do you know who I am?"
"Isabelle Latchmen, your cousin."
My smile faded into a vacant expression at the sound of my cousin's name. How did Isabelle know him? What kind of things did she tell this man? It was probably negative material. I was hoping the young silversmith would be able to overcome that and realize who I was, an not going off the lies of a fifteen year old brat. "So, you know Isabelle, then . . ."
"Yes," he said. "She's told me a lot about you, ever since I met her three years ago - Bad things, but I can see they are not true. It's nice to finally meet you." He extended his hand.
I clasped my hand in his, and we shook hands.
"Madeleine Gray."
"Murtagh Simmons."
For a minute, I laughed at his unusual sounding name. He glared at me, and I stopped.
"It was my mother's last name. Common in Ireland, where I was born."
"I was born in England, in York. It's a rather fine country. Have you ever visited it?"
"No."
I said nothing, instead looking around the room. There were all sorts of his craftiness that he had pinned to the walls, three large working stations . . .and, a bed, which was really just a mattress. It was thin, with stains of yellow and brown. Straw poked out of the many holes and tears. "Do you-you live here?"
He sighed. "Yes, I do."
"Why? Can't you buy a house? Don't you-" I was cut off by Murtagh's voice, suddenly cold and harsh.
"That's a story for a different day." He said sharply.
At that moment, I felt instantly guilty. Perhaps I had offended him. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"
"It's fine." He said. He still sounded angry, but their was less in voice . . .he seemed distant, as if he was recalling something. I waited for a minute, not daring to say anything. I thought I saw tears begin to well up in his eyes.
"Are you okay?"
"Please, leave me," He said. "Take the shield." He un tacked it from the wall and gave it to me.
"Goodbye."
"Goodbye," Murtagh said wearily. "Perhaps I shall see you again soon."
Damn, I'll review anyways. 
