Simspiration 24th August
I was only going to write a short piece for this, but the idea got away from me a bit. this could probably do with judicious editing, but I'm not in the mood to do that, so you get it uncut.
"Given a chance, I wanna be somebody." ("Be Somebody" - Kings of Leon)
Marielle Hutchins stormed through the ante rooms at the Simdon Assembly Rooms, stumbling slightly every few steps. She was used to wearing her battered, holey boots, not elegant evening slippers, and at this moment in time she hated them.
"Miss Hutchins, please, wait." Came the voice of the man whom she was accompanying tonight. She made it to the door of the room, and yanked it open, stumbling into the next room, a cloakroom by the looks of it. There was no other door in or out. She slumped slightly, her hand holding her side. She would never have believed that such a beautiful, light looking dress would have required such a tightly laced corset underneath it. T ight corsetry was as alien to her as elegant footwear and she loathed it every bit as much as the hated evening slippers.
Her pursuer made it through the door and he caught her elbow, swinging her round to face him. "Miss Hutchins..." he began.
"They're laughing at me!" She interrupted, balling her hands into fists.
"I am sure they are not.." He tried to soothe her.
"They bloody are! They're laughing at 'ow I speak and 'ow I act, an, an, and if that weren't enough, I'm sure they fink I'm a tart!" Marielle was shouting now.
Cedric Merryweather looked at her and opened his mouth to speak, but there was no use denying it, or trying to reassure her: it was true. He had been waiting for a drink when Sir Henry DeMandeville had approached him and said "different date this year I see Cedric. A very pretty filly, and I must say, she looks like she is very amiable." He had raised his eyebrows and made a suggestive hand movement as he emphasised the last word.
"They're laughing at you too yer know." Marielle's words cut though his reverie. "Olways 'aving ter show up ter these fings wiv a tart on yer arm. They wonder what sort of a man yer are to 'ave not fahnd a wife yet."
'The sort of man who wants not a wife.' Cedric thought, but aloud he said "I know."
"An' yer don't care?" Marielle asked.
"Yes." He said quietly. He cared alright, but he would rather the gossip be about him using prostitutes than about the fact that he wished he could share his home with Neville, and have him accompany him to these events. He had started this charade years ago with Mary, and it had worked up until now.
Ah Mary. even he had to admit that she had been a beautiful woman until her illness had ravaged her looks. She knew what was expected of her too. She had always made an effort when speaking, and would certainly never have gone up to Carolina DeMandeville and started talking to her like an equal as Marielle had.
This had been a mistake after all. He had agreed to it in part to help out Mary for old times sake and throw a bit of money her way.
He sighed heavily. "I think that it is time for us to go."
"Fank Christ fer that." Said Marielle, heading for the door.
They were making their way towards the foyer, when they were stopped by Carolina. "Leaving so soon Cedric?" She asked.
"Erm, yes. I think that it is for the best."
"Oh, but your companion is so entertaining." Replied Carolina, a predatory smile on her face. Marielle just glowered at her.
"What did you say your name was dear?" Asked Carolina.
"Miss 'Utchins." Replied Marielle.
"Your first name dear." Said Carolina, her smile never left her face, but her eyes bored into Marielle as if she was trying to vaporise her.
"Marielle."
"Oh how delightful." Squealed Carolina, her tinkling laugh carrying across the room. "Your parents took plain old Mary and tried to make it sound more upmarket."
Marielle practically growled at the other woman, and Cedric put his arm round her shoulder. "As I was saying, we will be going now."
He was steering her across the room, when Sir Henry approached. "Going already old chap? Not that I blame you," he added in an undertone, "I too would not be able to wait to get such a filly into bed." Cedric forced a smile and took his leave of his host.
As they finally reached the door , Carolina's laugh rang out again, and Marielle turned to face the room . The group of ladies gathered round Carolina saw her looking at them and laughed harder.
'Just you wait.' Marielle thought. 'Given 'alf a chance, I'll be back, an we'll see 'oo's laughing then.'
***
Ten years later, Marielle swept into the Simdon assembly Rooms on her husband's arm. She had to admit, he cut a dashing figure in black tie, his long, silky blonde hair tied back, and she was gratified to see more than one envious look cast in her direction by the other women in the room.
As she looked around, she realised that the place hadn't changed in the least. She was dwelling on this fact when Sir Henry DeMandeville approached her father-in-law and mother-in-law who had entered the room in front of them.
"William, old man, good to see you could make it." He clapped William heartily on the back as his wife joined their little group. "Bethany," he took Beth's hand and kissed it, "you are as delightful as ever."
"Thank you Sir Henry," replied Beth, delicately extracting her hand from his grasp, "and how many times must I tell you, call me Beth."
"Oh he never listens dear." Said Carolina as she bent forwards to kiss Beth on her cheek.
"You remember my son Edward from Alexandra's dinner parties." Said William, motioning at Marielle's husband.
"Of course. How are you Edward?" Asked Sir Henry, taking his hand. Sir Henry's eyes alighted on Marielle. "And who is this beautiful creature?"
"Sir Henry, may I present my wife, Marielle." Said Eddie as Sir Henry took her hand. "Delighted to meet you my dear." He murmured, bowing his head low and placing a lingering kiss on the back of Marielle's hand, that made her want to wash it.
"Marielle, what a beautiful name." Exclaimed Carolina. "So unusual and so pretty."
'That ain't wot you said last time.' Thought Marielle, but aloud she said. "Why thank you. I like it." As she spoke, there was no trace of her former accent.
They made their way across the room in the company of the DeMandevilles. "I feel that have met you before Marielle." Said Carolina.
'You 'ave, ten years ago.' "No I do not believe you have. I would have remembered."
"Your face just seems so familiar." Carolina continued. "What is your maiden name?"
Marielle paused before answering, after all there was no point in lying. "Hutchins."
"Hutchins, Hutchins." As Carolina worried over the name, Marielle was torn between wanting the other woman to figure it out so that she could crow in triumph at her and how her fortunes changed, and the fact that she never wanted her husband and his family to find out about her past. "You are not related to the Hutchins of Westside are you?" asked Carolina at last.
"No, my family is from the east of the city." 'Eastend actually.'
"Oh." On that note Carolina changed the subject, and Marielle looked round the room once more, a smirk on her face. 'See,' she thought, 'I told yer so.'
"Given a chance, I wanna be somebody." ("Be Somebody" - Kings of Leon)
Marielle Hutchins stormed through the ante rooms at the Simdon Assembly Rooms, stumbling slightly every few steps. She was used to wearing her battered, holey boots, not elegant evening slippers, and at this moment in time she hated them.
"Miss Hutchins, please, wait." Came the voice of the man whom she was accompanying tonight. She made it to the door of the room, and yanked it open, stumbling into the next room, a cloakroom by the looks of it. There was no other door in or out. She slumped slightly, her hand holding her side. She would never have believed that such a beautiful, light looking dress would have required such a tightly laced corset underneath it. T ight corsetry was as alien to her as elegant footwear and she loathed it every bit as much as the hated evening slippers.
Her pursuer made it through the door and he caught her elbow, swinging her round to face him. "Miss Hutchins..." he began.
"They're laughing at me!" She interrupted, balling her hands into fists.
"I am sure they are not.." He tried to soothe her.
"They bloody are! They're laughing at 'ow I speak and 'ow I act, an, an, and if that weren't enough, I'm sure they fink I'm a tart!" Marielle was shouting now.
Cedric Merryweather looked at her and opened his mouth to speak, but there was no use denying it, or trying to reassure her: it was true. He had been waiting for a drink when Sir Henry DeMandeville had approached him and said "different date this year I see Cedric. A very pretty filly, and I must say, she looks like she is very amiable." He had raised his eyebrows and made a suggestive hand movement as he emphasised the last word.
"They're laughing at you too yer know." Marielle's words cut though his reverie. "Olways 'aving ter show up ter these fings wiv a tart on yer arm. They wonder what sort of a man yer are to 'ave not fahnd a wife yet."
'The sort of man who wants not a wife.' Cedric thought, but aloud he said "I know."
"An' yer don't care?" Marielle asked.
"Yes." He said quietly. He cared alright, but he would rather the gossip be about him using prostitutes than about the fact that he wished he could share his home with Neville, and have him accompany him to these events. He had started this charade years ago with Mary, and it had worked up until now.
Ah Mary. even he had to admit that she had been a beautiful woman until her illness had ravaged her looks. She knew what was expected of her too. She had always made an effort when speaking, and would certainly never have gone up to Carolina DeMandeville and started talking to her like an equal as Marielle had.
This had been a mistake after all. He had agreed to it in part to help out Mary for old times sake and throw a bit of money her way.
He sighed heavily. "I think that it is time for us to go."
"Fank Christ fer that." Said Marielle, heading for the door.
They were making their way towards the foyer, when they were stopped by Carolina. "Leaving so soon Cedric?" She asked.
"Erm, yes. I think that it is for the best."
"Oh, but your companion is so entertaining." Replied Carolina, a predatory smile on her face. Marielle just glowered at her.
"What did you say your name was dear?" Asked Carolina.
"Miss 'Utchins." Replied Marielle.
"Your first name dear." Said Carolina, her smile never left her face, but her eyes bored into Marielle as if she was trying to vaporise her.
"Marielle."
"Oh how delightful." Squealed Carolina, her tinkling laugh carrying across the room. "Your parents took plain old Mary and tried to make it sound more upmarket."
Marielle practically growled at the other woman, and Cedric put his arm round her shoulder. "As I was saying, we will be going now."
He was steering her across the room, when Sir Henry approached. "Going already old chap? Not that I blame you," he added in an undertone, "I too would not be able to wait to get such a filly into bed." Cedric forced a smile and took his leave of his host.
As they finally reached the door , Carolina's laugh rang out again, and Marielle turned to face the room . The group of ladies gathered round Carolina saw her looking at them and laughed harder.
'Just you wait.' Marielle thought. 'Given 'alf a chance, I'll be back, an we'll see 'oo's laughing then.'
***
Ten years later, Marielle swept into the Simdon assembly Rooms on her husband's arm. She had to admit, he cut a dashing figure in black tie, his long, silky blonde hair tied back, and she was gratified to see more than one envious look cast in her direction by the other women in the room.
As she looked around, she realised that the place hadn't changed in the least. She was dwelling on this fact when Sir Henry DeMandeville approached her father-in-law and mother-in-law who had entered the room in front of them.
"William, old man, good to see you could make it." He clapped William heartily on the back as his wife joined their little group. "Bethany," he took Beth's hand and kissed it, "you are as delightful as ever."
"Thank you Sir Henry," replied Beth, delicately extracting her hand from his grasp, "and how many times must I tell you, call me Beth."
"Oh he never listens dear." Said Carolina as she bent forwards to kiss Beth on her cheek.
"You remember my son Edward from Alexandra's dinner parties." Said William, motioning at Marielle's husband.
"Of course. How are you Edward?" Asked Sir Henry, taking his hand. Sir Henry's eyes alighted on Marielle. "And who is this beautiful creature?"
"Sir Henry, may I present my wife, Marielle." Said Eddie as Sir Henry took her hand. "Delighted to meet you my dear." He murmured, bowing his head low and placing a lingering kiss on the back of Marielle's hand, that made her want to wash it.
"Marielle, what a beautiful name." Exclaimed Carolina. "So unusual and so pretty."
'That ain't wot you said last time.' Thought Marielle, but aloud she said. "Why thank you. I like it." As she spoke, there was no trace of her former accent.
They made their way across the room in the company of the DeMandevilles. "I feel that have met you before Marielle." Said Carolina.
'You 'ave, ten years ago.' "No I do not believe you have. I would have remembered."
"Your face just seems so familiar." Carolina continued. "What is your maiden name?"
Marielle paused before answering, after all there was no point in lying. "Hutchins."
"Hutchins, Hutchins." As Carolina worried over the name, Marielle was torn between wanting the other woman to figure it out so that she could crow in triumph at her and how her fortunes changed, and the fact that she never wanted her husband and his family to find out about her past. "You are not related to the Hutchins of Westside are you?" asked Carolina at last.
"No, my family is from the east of the city." 'Eastend actually.'
"Oh." On that note Carolina changed the subject, and Marielle looked round the room once more, a smirk on her face. 'See,' she thought, 'I told yer so.'