To anyone not accustomed to the sight, the overweight tourist woman would have looked extremely odd in the delicate chair. Marianne, though, was used to it. She managed to ignore the gaudy tee-shirt and too-tight jeans and smiled.
"Do you have cereal? My boys like cereal," the woman asked in a loud voice, squinting her eyes so her wire frames would stay put on her nose. Her sharp nails dug into table as she shot her two redheaded a vicious glare, stopping their screaming and punching miraculously. Marianne wished she could hug the woman. She was beginning to consider dumping the pot of hot tea on their heads. She would have been doing the whole room a favor.
"No, Ma'am. Only what we have what's on the table here." She adjusted the teapot under her arm and pointed. "Perhaps some toast? Or rolls with cheese?"
"You serve ale for breakfast?" A smirk formed on the lips of the balding man to the woman's side. His wife shot his a glare and he simply shrugged. "When in Rome..." he whispered, but said no more.
"Mom? What's ale? If Dad tries it, can we?"
The woman pinched the bridge of her nose, inhaling deeply. "Alright. We'll each have a piece of toast and a cheese roll. The boys can share a cup of chocolate, and can you bring them water on the side? I'll have a mug of tea, and my husband will have some coffee. Thank you."
Marianne withheld a giggle as she poured the woman's tea and walked to the other side of the table to fetch their food. So many tourists seemed to think that she was a waitress. It had almost become an unofficial job for her.
"Georgie, mine are awful," she whispered, the laughs unable to be constrained anymore. "They wanted cereal. I don't understand, why would they come here to eat cereal?"
Georgianna leaned over, nodding. "I think they're the ones who stumbled in late last night. They were out of gas, or they made a reservation at the wrong hotel, I believe. They don't seem too bad. A little... ostentatious maybe, but how am I to know the latest fashion out in the real world, eh?"
Marianne grabbed the tray of rolls and toast, balancing with the coffee and chocolate in her other hand. Sometimes she really did feel like a waitress. "''Ere you are Ma'am." She slid the tray onto the table. "The coffee, the chocolate, the rolls, and the toast," she said, pointing toward each. "I'm sorry, sir, but our ale supply has mysteriously disappeared. The coffee is good, though."
They looked confused, as though they were waiting for her to serve them. It's not a restaurant, she thought. She stood stubbornly for a minute before placing the bread on their plates with her tongs. "Sir, is there something wrong?" she asked, confused by his bewildered expression.
"What is that?" he asked, pointing towards the small silver cup. He tilted his head, as if he couldn't for the life of him figure out what the tiny brown grains were. "Are they a sort of rice?" he asked. "What on earth would you eat rice with at this sort of breakfast?"
"Uh, no sir. Sugar."
The man shook his head. "Strange sugar you have here in Massachusetts. Back in Alabama, our sugar comes in nice little packets, and doesn't look half so dirty." He sighed, but spooned the raw sugar into the dark coffee.
"Wilfred, that's not a very nice thing to say. Don't insult the poor girl. I'm sure her sugar is just as good as our sugar, even though it looks a little funny." She spooned some into her tea and sipped, her eyebrows raising in surprise. "Well! Isn't that delightful. It has a nice little flavor Alabama sugar just doesn't have. Where's this from?"
Marianne bit her cheek. "I can't say I know, Ma'am. I'll ask our cook, or maybe the shopkeeper. They 'ought to know." She took the heavy pot from the boys and poured the chocolate herself, their wobbly hands scaring her more than she would like to admit.
"Oh, it's no trouble, dearie. I'll just look it up on the internet once we have WiFi again."
One of the boys looked at her strangely, brown coating his upper lip. He seemed contemplative for a moment, before blurting, "You talk funny. Where are you from?"
Marianne's face flushed slightly. But before she had to answer, the boy's mother swatted at the back of his head. "Brian, that's incredibly rude. The way she talks is just fine. I swear, all of you must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed. Mitch, you're the only one right now that hasn't attempted to embarrass this poor girl to death. There's nothing wrong with her sugar and there's nothing wrong with the way talks."
"I never said it was wrong, I just said it's funny. She sounds like someone on TV, or Europe, or something. I just wanted to know where she was from so I could tell my friends I met a real life person from there," Brian piped, wiping off his mouth. He stared up at Marianne pleadingly.
"My mother and father are from England, but I'm from here. It must just be because I spend so much time around them," she relented. The boy's eyes widened.
"England! That's so cool! Did they know the Queen?"
Marianne stifled another laugh. "No, I don't believe so." She turned to the parents. "Is there anything else you'll be needing while I'm here?"
They eyed each other, agreeing silently. "We don't believe so, but here, have a little something for your trouble." They handed her a crumpled five dollar bill, smiling at her. "For putting up with us crazies."
Guilt pitted in her stomach, and she winced about what she said to Georgianna. "It's fine, Ma'am, but I appreciate it." She turned to walk away before they saw the flush in her cheeks, and she refused to look back. With a sigh, she collapsed against Georgianna.
"Hm? What did they do this time, Mari?" Georgianna adjusted her bodice and picked up the plate left behind by a customer.
"I suppose I know why you're so nice all the time, now," Marianne muttered. "So you don't feel guilty when you say something mean?" Marianne scooped up the dripping spoon and half full cup of coffee.
"Or for the sake of being nice. Maybe I just don't like being mean, Mari."
"Or that, I suppose." They bumped into each other on their way to the kitchen, where they dumped the dishes next to Marianne's brother.
"Jasper!" She whispered in his ear, laughing at the frightened look on his face as his head shot out of his book. "We've got more dishes, Hon. You lazy bum, reading books on the job," she jeered playfully, squeezing his shoulder and looking over his shoulder at the modern adventure novel. "Don't let Mother or Father catch you with that. It's not 'time appropriate'," she mocked. He hid it under his jacket.
"They won't as long as you don't tell them. I've read most of the books in the library, and a kid who stayed here gave me this as some sort of tip. I don't know why. Maybe he thought I was deprived or something."
"Ha! If you're deprived of anything, it's social interaction, little brother. I'd bet you're not even going to the ball later on."
He stared at her incredulously. "Of course I'm not going to the ball. That would involve knowing how to dance, Mari. I'm going to sit in my room, thank you. I'd rather finish this book before Father finds out that I'm reading something written during the 2000's."
Marianne stared and Georgianna, her mouth gaping. "Jasper, did you really just say that? 'That would involve knowing how to dance.' Jasp, I'm the dance instructor. I could teach you how to dance right here and now, and you wouldn't have to sit holed up in your room for the umpteenth time."
He shook his head. "Can't. I have to wash dishes." He turned away from her and pulled up his sleeves, dunking his hands in the sudsy water and thoroughly ignoring his sister. She pulled him into a hug and ruffled his hair.
Marianne looked out the door and pulled Georgianna out stealthily, running silently to the abandoned drawing room. They flopped onto the couches, letting out sighs simultaneously. Marianne just wanted to sink into plush seat, but her corset constricted her too much.
"Georgie?" she asked, her eyes closed.
"Yea?"
"Do you think the guests would be able to tell if we took off our corsets?" It being a normal part of her daily life for years, it didn't bother Marianne as much as it used to, but there were times she just wanted to rip off the binding undergarment and fling it into the garden's pond. She would probably scare the gardener, Graham Clayton, but she didn't really care. He would get over it.
"The guests? Probably not. Our mothers? Defiantly," Georgianna answered just as lazily. "I think the guests would have fits if they knew the pain-in-the-butt undergarments they would have to wear if they wanted the true regency experience."
"Indeed. But I don't believe our parents would makes as much money if they forced the woman into corsets and stockings, and the men into cravats."
"I would love for the most uncomfortable thing in my wardrobe to be a cravat," Georgianna sighed.
They just sat there, relishing in the quiet. Marianne had come to the conclusion long ago that there wasn't nearly enough quiet in her life. Sometimes she wished she had Thomas's job, the riding instructor. He was able to sit out with the horses in the pastures for hours on end if he wished, but she knew should would have to be much better at riding to teach others. She had her own things to teach, and she knew she could have much worse jobs, like Jasper and his hand washed dishes.
"You know, Mari," Georgianna muttered, her eyes still closed. "Even when I go out to get groceries or run errands, I never once regret the life we live. I know Graham does, but this life just makes me happy. The outsiders think we're strange, you know? They don't understand why we chose to live like this, even though there's stuff out there like TVs and refrigerators. I would wear a corset for a thousands days straight before going to the outside world."
Marianne nodded, sighing contently. "I know what you mean. We complain sometimes, but there's just something about this. We get three families instead of one. There's such a peacefulness here that you just don't see anywhere else. I love it."
She watched the lamps flicker, reflecting off the papered walls and gilded mirrors. No were she had ever been was as simply pretty as the little sitting room at Merelow Cottage. It was more perfect than anything she could ever imagine, and she knew that she could never leave. It was her life, her everything. Everything she knew, everyone she loved was on their humble four acre property. She didn't care that guests thought she was a waitress, or that they only went out into the modern world in rare occasions.
"It worries me, though," Georgianna started, wincing and opening her eyes slightly. "What do you think the new guy will think of us? Will he make fun of us? I mean, not everyone can be as excited over this as William or Father."
Marianne nodded. Even though they'd been short staffed since the opening of Merelow, everyone had been wary of hiring someone outside the original owning families. They wouldn't understand, and might jeopardize everything they'd worked so hard for. They probably wouldn't know how to dance correctly, or they would complain about their clothing in the presence of guests. She supposed that's why they gave him the job of stable hand, upgrading Jasper to dishwasher and Allan to cook. Having someone who didn't live Merelow as their life could be dangerous, and they needed to keep them out of the way and out of guests sights until they were sure. Marianne's parents prided themselves on Merelow's authenticity, and she knew the other adults would die before they let T.V.'s in the rooms and Microwaves in the kitchen. The bathrooms in the bedrooms were an addition fought over for months. The only thing that had convinced them was the loss of guests due to the sparse, cold outhouses and the distances they had to walk. The staff house still had no indoor toilets, though. Critics had scoffed at their establishment, calling it medieval and pointless. What if the newcomer did the same?
"Well, he wouldn't apply for a job at a historical inn if he had no interest in history, right, Georgie? I mean, it wouldn't make any sense. We put everything on the flyer."
"I suppose. That's a good way of thinking about it. I really hope you're right; I don't think I'd be able to stand working with a man all summer who ridiculed us. Do you have any idea what he's like?"
Marianne shook her head. "Mother said he's about our age, and from a town around thirty miles away, but that's all I know. They didn't really tell me much. She's a little frantic at the moment."
"Yeah, my Mother, too. You know how strange that is. My mother is never frantic."
That made Marianne nervous. Georgainna was right. Her mother was never frantic. It's just because he's new, she thought. There's nothing wrong with him making our parents stressed. Our fathers never would have let them be hired if that were the case.
"And that's why we're hiding in here," Marianne joked. "They've been driving me completely mad. We've scrubbed down the staff house God knows how many times, the gardens are immaculate. If we did this all the time, people would be flooding in. I'm honestly surprised we haven't made this boy a banner yet."
"Maybe if we weren't hiding in here, we would be making a banner."
Marianne stood up, walking around the sweet little room, her fingers tracing the drapes and couch backs. "It's highly possible." She stood for a second, looking out the window to the stables, shooting Thomas Amberson a smile and a little wave. He grinned at her and tipped his hat, hay sticking out in his brown hair, and dirt streaked across his britches. "I really hope this new boy loves it here as much as we do. It would really be a shame for him not to. I feel as though we would all be miserable if that were the case."
She moved on as Thomas turned away to help a woman on a horse, walking the docile mare around the path a few times. Marianne wondered if she would be able to sneak in a walk around the stables anytime soon. Despite her lack of talent in riding, she loved the smell of horses and hay, and Thomas would walk with her if he had no lessons to teach, which was quite common. People went to Merelow to aww over the people in cute costumes or learn to dance, not to ride. Especially woman, since the concept of riding side saddle terrified them. She hated how people didn't trust them, though, always warning her to behave when she went out to the stables. She had no romantic interest in Thomas. They weren't going to sneak behind a haystack and kiss, or hold hands, but she understood the rules regardless. Luckily, though, since their families were so close, it was appropriate for them to be alone sometimes, talking and laughing at each other without anyone to put a damper on their spirits.
Georgianna's face went blank as she stared at the wall. "What're you thinking about?"
"Hm? Oh. I just want to know what this boy looks like. I'm probably too curious for it to be appropriate."
Marianne shrugged. "I don't think so. What do you think he looks like? I know you Georgianna. You already have the perfect picture of him in your head. His height, his hair, his eyes." She stared at her friend with her eyebrows raised, trying with all her might not to smirk.
Georgianna's face flushed. "I can't help it. It's involuntary." She looked down for a second, avoiding her friend's eyes. "Alright. I'll tell you. Just don't laugh at me."
Marianne crossed her heart and sat on a chair, resting her chin on her fists. "I promise, love. No laugh will escape this lips, in your presence at least." Georgianna shrugged.
"That's good enough. He's about as tall as Allan- six feet, I suppose. Hair the color of hay, a strong nose, and brown eyes. His laugh is the most intoxicating thing about him, and he played sports in high school."
Marianne clapped slowly. "You should be a writer, darling. Your talent for creating characters is amazing. Now lets just hope he follows your ideas, shall we? We don't want you to be too disappointed." She had to admit, she could see it perfectly. All she wished for was that he was kind, though. A happy person was always much more fun to be around.
Georgianna shook her head. "No. I can't do personalities. My idea of the new boy is just an empty shell. I wish I could, though. If I wrote novels, maybe I could bring in a little extra money for our parents. It would really be nice."
Marianne patted her shoulder. "Well, I think your idea of our Mr. Newcomer is wonderful, and you could do the best personality for him imaginable." She plopped down next to her. "Lets hear it."
"No. You try."
Marianne pulled back, slightly surprised. "All right then. How about I start, then you can." Georgianna shrugged. "Fine. He's kind. Never in a bad mood, really."
She stared at Georgianna. "Your turn."
"That was barely a start!" she exclaimed, punching her friend's shoulder slightly. "He... he's intelligent enough, and enjoys joking around. He never says a bad word about anyone, but is maybe a bit lazy. He's nonchalant, but doesn't have that good of a work ethic. The guests will love him, though, and that's all that really matters. They won't care about a little bit of horse poo on their shoes if the stable boy makes them feel welcome and happy."
"There," Marianne said triumphantly. "He sounds even more wonderful now that he has a soul. You can write that book now, and make us more rich than any other inn in Massachusetts. We'll be famous and we can expand and hire even more newcomers for you to write stories about." They laughed and fell back further into the couch, thinking of this mystery boy and his imaginary personality. Marianne wished with all her heart that the new boy was at least remotely like their fantasy of him.
"Do you think we should go back yet?" Marianne asked, trying to soak up as much of the peace while she could."
"Just a few more minutes," Georgianna mumbled, pressing her finger to her friend's lips. "Shh. Don't talk so loud, or they'll find us."
"I believe it's too late for that, Miss Clayton." Mr. Allan Amberson stood, leaning against the door. He nodded to Marianne. "Miss Marianne."
"Mr. Amberson," she greeted, an embarrassed smile on her lips. "We were just getting out of the way. It's so frantic out there, and we didn't want any of our hardworking parents tripping over us. I'm sure you understand."
He nodded. "Yes, I'm sure, Miss Hunt. I promise, I won't tell a soul. No point in worrying them further. Their nerves are already getting the best of them, poor things. I just came to deliver this to you."
He pulled out the crumpled bill from his pocket and set it next to her on the table. "Your tourists gave it to me for you. They asked for the nice young dark-haired girl who helped them. I figured it was you."
Her face flushed. "Thank you."
He nodded and smiled, turning to Georgianna. "Miss Clayton. I hope that your cold is better?"
She nodded. "Yes, thank you. Most kind of you to ask." She looked down and fiddled with a stray lock of blonde hair, avoiding his eyes as he stared at her. Marianne rolled her eyes.
"Mr. Amberson, if I may ask, how did you know where to find us? I thought our hiding spot was quite ingenious," she said, doing her best to divert the attention from her thoroughly embarrassed friend.
He looked at her shocked, and cleared his throat nervously, glancing at Georgianna apologetically. She smiled at him faintly.
"Well, Miss Marianne, while it may have been ingenious the first time, you two ladies have hidden in the same spot day after day. Your pattern is quite easy to track. I must admit, I set my watch by it."
"Well, we must change our hiding spot, then. Perhaps the pantry or the library."
"I would suggest rotating about the three. Be as inconspicuous as two such lovely ladies can be." Mr. Allan Amberson tipped his hat. "Well, I must be off, for some of us actually do our jobs."
"Farewell," they said in unison, standing to curtsy as he bowed to them and left the room. Georgianna fell to the couch, her eyes starry and her cheeks flushed, but Marianne decided against saying anything. It wasn't appropriate for a woman to show feelings to a man, and while Marianne spoke of such things frequently, she knew that Georgianna would worry that Mr. Allan Amberson could still hear them. She was paranoid like that.
Marianne winced. "Ach. I can hear my mother panicking from here. We'd better go help her, Georgie.
Georgianna nodded, and sighed as she got up from the couch again. "You're right. I suppose we 'ought to help people. It really wasn't that busy this morning, though."
"No, but I think I hear Lynn's truck." Marianne grinned and rushed out, bursting into the dining room and startling several guests. Running outside in a very unlady-like manner, she pushed open the door and greeted her surprised friend with a hug.
"Lynn!" She cried, grabbing her friend's hand in ecstasy. She gaped at the shining ring. "He proposed! I knew he would propose."
"Hello to you too, Mari," Lynn laughed, hugging Marianne back. "Yes, he proposed. Isn't the ring gorgeous?"
"Quite," she whispered, inspecting it carefully. "When's the wedding? Do you know what kind of dress you want? Tell me everything, down the last detail." Marianne hooked her arm around Lynn's and took a turn around the truck, taking a moment to glance into the open back and inspect the fresh produce. She smiled. There was nothing more she liked than baked apples, and the truck held cartons overflowing with juicy-looking granny smiths.
"But I don't have all the details, yet, dear. It was only a few days ago that he asked me. I haven't been in for a fitting or anything." Lynn rolled her eyes, her dark curls bouncing under the little red cap she always wore. "I promise, though, you'll be the first to know if anything happens."
"I am invited, right?" Marianne prodded, giggling.
"Of course! That's a silly question. I'd actually really appreciate it if you would be a bridesmaid, if you have the time, of course. I would love for Daphne to be the flower girl, but Dylan's niece already has the spot. Please say you can do it."
Marianne squealed and jumped into another hug. "A bridesmaid? Oh Lynn, I can't think of anything more splendid." She looked around nervously, hoping no one had seen her outburst. It wasn't appropriate for a woman to show emotion like that, but the area was empty. The tourists seemed to be sitting in their rooms, taking an after breakfast nap, or out in town. Either way, the cottage was abandoned and Marianne was free to show as much emotion as she pleased.
"You're not going to ask your mother? Do you think she can spare you for so much time?" Lynn broke away and started pulling crates of fruits and vegetables from her truck, handing some to Marianne to carry to the kitchen. They snuck through the back door, giggling.
"Of course! Oh Lynn, Mother loves you, and we're getting a new hand today. He's an outsider," she whispered, her voice full of mock scandal. "With him around, I'm sure they won't even notice I'm gone." She repositioned the crate, unable to keep her smiles contained. "What are your colors? Do you have those planned at least?"
"Only since I was five!" Lynn smiled like a person filled with true, unadulterated happiness. Marianne was so pleased for her, she thought she would burst. "They're red and blue. You know, bold crimson and soft, color-of-a-river blue."
"Ohh," Marianne sighed, imagining the sight in her head. It fit Lynn perfectly. "That sounds gorgeous. How did he propose?" She set the crates down on the table with a dull thud and rested her elbows on the surface, leaning on her fists and staring up at her friend pleadingly.
"You're such a romantic, Marianne. I swear." Lynn laughed and pulled her out the door. "There's more where that came from. Get moving, sister." Marianne scowled.
"Tell me! Please. Susan's engagement was so, painfully boring. Yours must be far more exciting and dashing. I don't get my romantic urges out by watching television. I get it out by bothering those more experienced than I until they can simply not stand it anymore, and spill every little detail of beauty. You know how persuasive I can be."
Lynn bumped into her, but bit her lip and grinned. "It was wonderful. He took me to the place we had our first date, that park in town, you know? And he sat down next to me and told me exactly what happened that day five years ago, and asked me to marry him. He said that he wanted to go back to that spot every year and just sit with me and enjoy my presence."
Marianne sighed. "That's just delightful. You're so lucky, Lynn." Marianne blinked. "Wait. Where's Georgie? Goodness, that girl. She would love this story. She's probably making eyes at Allan Amberson again. Goodness, those two are the most love-struck people I've ever seen. He needs to just tell her already, and it would be so much easier. The could court and maybe get married, and have little children walking around Merelow."
"She's eighteen, Marianne. Don't you think that's a bit young?" Lynne looked at her skeptically. "I mean, I'm twenty-three. I started dating Dylan when I was your age, and people still tell me that I'm far to young and inexperienced to settle down."
Marianne shrugged. "Not here, really. I don't know. We pretend to be from this era so often for the guests. We're such a total immersion experience that sometimes I think we believe that we actually live in that time period, just with better doctors. Our parents love it so much, and it's how we were raised. It's not like we're so ignorant of the outside world, this is just our life, and I feel like things are simpler. Susan loves her husband, and he loves her. They're happy, even though they were married at a time that would be considered 'too young' just about anywhere else. It's the same for Georgainna." She flinched. "We're so strange, aren't we Lynn?"
Lynn nodded. "A little, but that's okay. I love you just the same. It's almost like you guys are Amish, or Mennonite or something. It's actually quite fascinating."
They pulled out crate after crate, Marianne's arms throbbing by they time they finished.
"How do you do that every day? My arms are throbbing worse than they ever had. Were they packed with lead?"
Lynn shook her head. "No. Squash." They collapsed in the chairs, fanning themselves with their hands and breathing heavily. "It's October. October shouldn't be this hot, right?"
"Right. Perhaps something's wrong with the weather. Or maybe us. It really is hard to tell sometimes, wouldn't you agree?"
Lynn nodded. "It really can be very hard to tell. I swear it wasn't this hot when I got here. I must have shed five layers. How do you survive with all those petticoats and underthings?"
"Practice," she laughed, wiping droplets of sweat from her brow. "Not that it's become a pleasant experience. I would have to be insane to try and tell you that I enjoyed it."
Lynn sighed. "And I thought bras were uncomfortable." They closed their eyes, the smell of cooking food numbing their senses until neither one of them could even bear the thought of having to stand up.
Boots stomped in, and a figure plopped down on the chair next to Marianne, sighing loudly as he kicked off his boots.
"Shh," she whispered, keeping her eyes closed. "We're sleeping, sir. Please don't disturb us." She forced a smile down, knowing that sigh from anywhere. Keeping her eyes firmly shut, she waited for his response.
"Well, please forgive me, Miss, for my great injustice against society. Let me rejoin my horses and hang my head in shame."
"Hello, Thomas," Lynn laughed. Marianne opened her eyes and giggled, covering her mouth. She thought he looked dirty from the window, but it was much worse in person.
"I fell off a horse," he said grumpily, brushing dirt off his clothes and hay from his hair.
"Don't laugh, Miss Marianne. You've fallen off a number of times, and don't try to disagree."
"Yes, side saddle, Mr. Amberson. It's much more difficult to stay upon a horse when you have almost no means of balancing. Don't try to disagree." She winced. "Oh, you really did take quite a blow to that face of yours. Stay put."
She stood up and dipped a clean cloth in water wringing it out and sitting in front of him. "Sit still." She pressed the cloth to his cut, ignoring his wince. "Don't cry so, it's not even that hot."
"I didn't make a peep, Miss. I can assure you of that." He closed his eyes tight, his breathing slow and sound. "I do ask that you do not force it upon me, so. It really is not a comfortable experience."
"Hmm, yes. I may agree, but neither is infection. I suggest you sit fast and not talk." She cleaned around the slight wound, scratches lining his cheek in a way that made her wince. "What ever did you do, Mr. Amberson, to injure yourself so? Fall upon a pitchfork?"
"Gravel, Miss."
She flinched. "Oh. This really is not good. I think there might be some still there. Sit there." She felt her heart beat faster. Any sort of joke at his expense left her mind as she searched for their first aid kit. She pulled it out from under a cushion, where it hid from any eyes that might identify it as unauthentic. She brought it to the table and filled a syringe with saline. "Lay your head down, and please try not to cry out."
He nodded, leaning back. "Miss Marianne, you really need not make such a fuss over me. I've sustained injuries much worse than this."
She glared at him. "Just shut up and let me do my job before anyone else sees."
Lynn laughed. "I don't think I've ever heard you tell someone to shut up before, Mari. Way to break character."
Marianne rolled her eyes and flushed the scratches, her breathing regulating more and more with each piece of gravel flushed. "Alright. I think you're clean." She smiled and returned his hat and dried his cheek, feeling extremely motherly, but she didn't care.
"Please don't worry me again. It looked very painful."
"I really believe you had nothing to worry about. If it was anything serious, I could be taken to a doctor."
"Oh, you're not done yet. I don't have that much faith in my abilities. No, my mother is going to look at that cut of yours, and unless she deems it sterile, you're not doing anything."
"What's your mother going to do?" Mrs. Hunt walked in the door, a frantic light in her eyes as she inspected the kitchen. "Hello Lynn, lovely to see you. Is that a ring I see on your finger? Please, tell me all about it when I have the time. Now, what is it dear, that I'm supposed to look at?"
Marianne kissed her mother's cheek. "Calm down, Mother. I'm sure whatever has you all worked up can't be worth it. I hate to ask this, but could you look at Mr. Amberson's face?He cut it falling off his horse, and I flushed the gravel like you showed me, but I really don't know if it's perfect."
Mrs. Hunt nodded and sat in front of Thomas. "Well, Mr. Amberson, you're lucky to have a nurse such as my daughter. She inspected his face, lightly touching the cut. "Don't tell anyone of this inappropriateness, will you? It would be bad for business."
Marianne rolled her eyes. "Mother, I don't think the tourists would mind if I helped him.
Does it look okay? Should we take him to a doctor? I'm sure Lynn could drive."
"Always willing," she piped, watching over the whole situation with a vaguely amused expression.
"That shouldn't be necessary, love. It looks like you did a just fine job. I would just have him get it dressed. If you wish Thomas, I can do that now."
He shook his head. "It's quite fine, Mrs. Hunt. I would love to bathe first. I feel quite filthy after that fall, and I would like nothing better than a bath." He nodded to Marianne and Lynn. "Miss Hart. Miss Marianne. The pleasure was mine." He bowed and exited.
"I should be leaving, too. There's just so much to be done before this new young man comes, and I want it to be perfect." Marianne's mother brushed a hair out of her eye and standing up/
"Don't worry yourself too much, Mother. Merelow is always charming." Mrs. Hunt hugged Lynn and her daughter, muttering to herself as she walked out of the kitchen. Lynn lost control and burst out laughing.
"You two really are the funniest," she managed through giggles. "Your relationship- he's like, your best friend, after Georgainna. Why on earth you you still call him Mr. Amberson? And Miss Marianne? I just don't understand it."
"We don't do that in town. I mean, we call each other by first names when we're not in Merelow. It just feels weird to be dressed like this, and in this atmosphere, and be so casual with him. It's just not how I grew up. I called him by his name when we were younger, though." She felt her face flush. Lynn didn't really understand, and she heard the underlying message in her voice. Just like everyone else, Lynn probably thought that she and Thomas were sneaking out behind haystacks and kissing, or worse.
Lynn groaned as she stood up. "Alright, Marianne. I didn't mean to make you upset. I
really should get going, though. I've already stood around chit-chatting far too long. Dylan's parents are taking us out for dinner, and we're going to go over wedding plans and such. I'll let you know when the dress shopping is, and all that fun stuff. Do you need a ride into town any time soon?"
Marianne shoot her head. "Nah. We're going shopping for groceries this week, but we can walk. I hope I'll run into you, though. Stop by any time." She hugged Lynn, waving goodbye as her friend strolled out the door, humming some rock tune Marianne didn't recognize.
"Goodness," she whispered to herself. "I really hope this new guy learns fast, or this will be a strange summer."
Hi there ^^
So, first of all.. Why is it blue? XD I know it doesn't have to do much with the story, but it's really quite annoying to look at it :/
It's interesting, for sure.. Why was it a failed NaNo?
I must say it was a bit confusing at the beginning, but I got used to your style and understood well who talks what as the thing went on.. My second thought (after "blue") was "woah. Really quite a bit of dialogue" but now I think you still managed to introduce the characters to us through it, and not everyone can do that, so it actually is a good thing
I liked the ending, the last sentence sounds to me like a good closure, and a hook for the readers at the same time. So good job, all in all!
Kind regards,
Aria
Hi Tacks!
So the first thing I noticed, was the fact that this is all blue. I'm sure you didn't mean it that way, but it's kind of distracting, and it annoys me. If you don't know how, remind me to show you and I'll teach you how to make it not be colored.
Now, you know how much I love Merelow. It's like. Merelow. And you better continue it, cause I'll come after you with a pitch fork if you don't.
I don't know why, but this statement sounded odd to me. Even though it's got wonderful imaginary, it feels... I dunno. Why is she scratching the table? I've never seen anyone do that.
This feels like it needs something more. Maybe by changing it too She was beginning to consider dumping a pot of hot tea on the unruly pair, since it would have saved the whole room from the annoyance. Or something like that. Yeah?
to?
Unneeded.
Quote marks around this.
Delete that y.
I know I'm getting a little picky, but there shouldn't be a space between 'it.' and the " " marks. Just a technical thing.
Two versions of the word 'walk' close together. I know you have a big vocabulary, so I know you can remedy it.
For some reason, I find this repetitive. Maybe because he's already addressed her, but the 'Hello' seems unneeded.
Let's pause with the technicalities to discuss something. You're very time period correct, but for some reason, I find it odd that these girls have grown up around these other people and they're so stiff and formal. I understand about being correct, but don't you think that someone they considered to be family would call them by their first name? Just a thought.
See what I mean? Reread it from the readers perspective, think about the way it feels in your mind. Also, it's kind of a dramatic farewell for such a quick conversation. And, would Allan be wearing a hat inside?
No comma between you and too.
Like I said, they've grown up together. Wouldn't she call him Thomas?
I'm not going to do it again, but go over this piece and delete the extra space plz.
Really Tacks? really? Why would they get in trouble for that? She's fixing his cut. I dunno, it just feels far fetched to me.
Even though I know it's the mother, you need to let us know who's talking here.
Beautiful conclusion to this very long chapter. I loved it. In fact, I loved all of it. So, if you don't mind, I'm not going to say anything more. I just gave you technical stuff, because it's a really wonderful story and a really good beginning. I compliment you. Enjoy!
This is so worth more than 200 points