[sylvanSpider]

One Year Ago~~

“Emily, dear, may I have a word?” The speaker was none other than Mrs. Trumbuckle, a plump woman looking young for her years. Her face was smooth, save for when she smiled, which was often, revealing crows feet adorning the corners of her eyes. While not particularly beautiful, the woman was lovely to look at, and had been everything Emily could have needed in her worst hours. She and Mr. Trumbuckle both had taken such excellent care of her, and she was thankful that Father had left her in the care of such a marvelous, quaint couple. Now however, the lovely lady's brow furrowed with worry as she took the hand of the youth giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Yes, mum? What is it? What's the matter?” the girl, whose name was Emily, had her own concerned expression as she looked up at the kindly woman. They took a seat, Mrs. Trumbuckle still grasping at her hand. She gave it another squeeze before she began to speak again.

“Oh nothing's the matter, so to speak. No, nothing at all. It's just,” here, Mrs. Trumbuckle paused a moment breathing for her nose and resituated herself in her seat with a slight rustle of her undoubtedly overpriced and overdecorative dress. The emphasis on the word 'matter' was indeed indicative that there was, in fact, something the matter. Nevertheless she continued, “It's just, you're turning eighteen tomorrow, dear, and you're old enough to marry...”

“Old enough to marry, mum?” Emily inquired, blinking at the estate's matriarch. Of course, the topic had been on her mind the past few months; the looks on the streets from young and old gentlemen alike had been increasing steadily every time she went out, and it was no secret the young woman was one of London's most eligible bachelorettes. “Do you mean to say you've found a prospective suitor for me?” The last word came out as more of a squeak or hoarse whisper, her face paling as she realized that this was the end of her youth. She must become a woman now.

“Ehm...well, let me speak dear. As I said, you're getting of the age to marry and become a woman.And,” Mrs. Trumbuckle placed emphasis on the word in order to prevent the girl from interjecting, though the girl made no sign that she was going to and Mrs. Trumbuckle continued, “And you know that Mr. Trumbuckle and I have taken excellent care of you, and that by now, surely you know, we want nothing but the best for you, and also that you have an enormous inheritance that has been placed in our care.” Mrs. Trumbuckle wet her lips giving Emily's hand a soft squeeze, “Emily, my dear,” she said, lowering her voice, “you remember that that inheritance is to go to you when you wed, correct?” Here, the girl nodded eagerly, wishing the lovely lady would just get on with it. If she was asking for money for she and Mr. Trumbuckle, it would be granted immediately. She always thought the sums promised her seemed too large. “Well, your father left behind a uh...a codicil before he passed on.”

At the word 'codicil,' Emily grew whiter, this issue turning far more dire than she'd anticipated, “What did the codicil say?”

Mrs. Trumbuckle had been studying Emily, carefully scrutinizing her reactions to what she was saying, “It said that you should receive your inheritance so long as you marry a man. Now, Mr. Trumbuckle laughed at the obviousness in it. You know, of course you'd be marrying a man. But I? I have...erm...wondered if there was a reason your father ehm...specified that...ah, specifically.” Mrs. Trumbuckles' eyes studied the girl with even more scrutiny as she asked this and Emily changed from white to red immediately flushing.

“No, no. Of course not. Of course I am going to marry a man, mum,” Emily squeaked, biting her lip and turning her gaze toward the fire.

This was apparently good enough for Mrs. Trumbuckle as she sighed with relief and sat, letting her back rest against the back of the chair, “Good, good. Of course. Uhm. That out of the way, do you have any particular man in mind?”

Emily looked down, still flushed and began wringing her hands, “No, mum, I can't say that I do.”

“Oh, excellent!” Emily looked back up at her caregiver, not expecting this answer, “You see, Mr. Trumbuckle and I have just met the most magnificent man. He's young, he's wealthy, of property, and dare I say...” here, Mrs. Trumbuckle let her own cheeks redden, though in the spirit of a girl half her age giving a juicy secret said, “dare I say quite handsome.” She fanned herself and smiled at the girl who looked thoroughly relieved, her perspective now changed to just a suitor. “His name is William Shaw, and I must say, he's quite the catch! Mr. Trumbuckle and I have already arranged a dinner. He's expected tomorrow evening.”

~~Shaw Residence, One Year Later~~

Miss Emily Barker sat by the fire, book in hand, one page about to be turned in the other, and her legs crossed. She had a small wistful smile on her face as her eyes continued to follow the lines until that page was turned. The fire was warm, cozy for such a dreary night. It was unseasonably cold, but Emily found herself in high spirits. Mr. Shaw was indeed quite the catch and she was pleased, once again, with the Trumbuckles and the pains they took to make sure that she was quite happy. The book was one of poetry, and one that she had only acquired earlier in the day.

Sitting directly across from her was this lovely little blonde creature, her escort Rosamund, working on her stitching. It was her who broke the silence, “Oh, Miss Barker, what are we going to do with you? You're about to become a wife and you would still rather read than do your stitching. Now, I know that you don't need to do it to get by like some,” she said, most certainly not talking about herself, obviously, “But they are skills that every woman should possess. Do you really want to tell your child someday that you never made not even one nightgown or even a pair of socks for them? You can't be reading all your life, you know. Your father should never have sent you to school.” The creature may have been speaking with a bit of jealousy here, being illiterate, and thus immune to whatever it was that was causing Emily's smile at the present moment.

The smile didn't dissipate, however, instead, she placed a bookmarker where she was, shut the book uncrossing her legs and leaned forward, “Rosamund, we've been over this already. To you, I'm Emily. Or, if you must, Miss Emily. None of this “Miss Barker” nonsense. I'm not going to be Miss Barker for much longer anyway. I shall be Mrs. William Shaw. I shan't get too used to the name you see. As far as my reading goes, Rosamund, I have offered to teach you. It really has made life much more convenient, and certainly more pleasant.”

“No, no! I shan't! A woman has no need to read, and soon I'll be having children of my own that I must take care of,” Rosamund replied, obstinate. “Oh, do you hear that? I believe your husband is coming!” Sure enough, not mere seconds later, one could hear the wheels of a carriage, horses' hooves upon the ground.

Emily got to her feet, attempting to straighten her dress and beamed as her husband came in, “You're home earlier than expected! Did all go well with the sale? Did she choose one of the properties?”