After finishing her morning chores, Kate took Beaut out for a ride. She's been up the meadow path towards the mountains, back through the forest and to the inlet, and is now taking her time going around the lake. Both horse and rider look tired, but happy for all that.
Kate notices Mary when she's not more than a few yards off, and gives a polite nod.
Mary doesn't have to say it. Women only have slightly greater freedoms in the American West in Kate's age than they do in Miss Bennet's. Though, she does smile, patient and self-willed - an unusual juxtaposition that mirrors the unusual facets of the woman.
"I live here only as much as any of the rest of us do. I've had my door disappear, but it's always come back. I can leave any time, I simply find that I enjoy it here; an' the labor is satisfyin'."
Beaut nudges her gently, and starts pawing the ground.
Kate chuckles softly. It's been some time since she had need to call on ceremony or demand the level of propriety polite society would insist upon. Mary is not her pupil, but even if she happened to be Kate would sooner congratulate her honesty than chide her for it.
"And already introduced t'society, I'd reckon? Are you wed?"
Miss Barlow is unconventional, it's true. But it's a relief to Mary to speak to someone who seems to have some idea of how proper society works.
"I am. Introduced, that is. I'm not yet married."
Mary is slightly warmer to the subject of being married than she is to being out in society. Balls and parties and the like just leave her feeling horribly self-conscious and awkward. Being married would be all right, she supposes, especially if she could make a good match for her family's sake.
Pity that one has to put up with being out in society to find a husband.
"My sisters and I are all out together. I think Mother just thought it was easier that way as we're all so close. I have two elder and two younger."
Well. It seems Kate isn't the only one to push the bounds of the unconventional.
"With the elder ones I'm sure there's more pressure put upon their responsibility t'find suitable husbands with suitable incomes, but no doubt you're aware of what society expects of us. I'm an only child; my momma died when I was young, an' my daddy when I was around your age. I grew up understandin' that he wanted me t'find a good match, but also that I could be self-supportin'. Take care of myself."
She was a willful and difficult child. She hasn't changed much over the years.
"I haven't wed, an' I've lost my property. It might be unusual, but I'm not above workin' t'make my own way. I know at least I won't fall t'poverty."
To a hangman's noose, or a scoundrel's pistol - well, that's a different story.
As mad as they can drive her, Mary can't imagine such a loss, both of people she (at the end of the day) loves and of such a basic level of security. Of course, some young women left alone in the world find good situations with family or guardians, but many others do not.
Mary chew on the inside of her cheek for a moment. It's hard, having to think of ways to explain things that everyone who she knows just takes for granted.
"My sisters and I don't work in that manner. Our father is a gentleman, you see, even if he's not the richest of men. It's just not something we are to do. If I were to take a position as...as...a shopkeeper or a tavern server or even a governess, it would harm my chances at a decent match, and likely my sisters' too."
"Of course," she adds, dryly, "if word ever got out that I was living alone in a magical tavern, I'm sure the damage to my reputation would be ten times worse."
"I found my thoughts not very far from yours when I first came here."
It wasn't helped by the company of a rather charming, rather beautiful man, who often times made her forget entirely why the rules of society were so important.
"But the chances of that happenin' aren't very high. Time in your world should've paused the moment y'stepped through the door here, an' you'll return to things just as they were when y'left. Even if someone from your world should happen upon you here, I doubt they'd endanger your reputation for want of protectin' their own."
She gestures further along the lake path, out to where it forks and heads in the direction of the stables.
"Would y'care t'see the stables? They might be the most normal thing about this place, if y'don't mind a mythical creature or two."
Mary isn't expecting any help of that kind. A charming, beautiful man wouldn't look twice at her, and if he did she'd go tongue-tied and stiff to the point that he'd quickly move on.
Such is her lot.
"Other people have mentioned the same thing, that time isn't passing on the outside." Mary rolls her eyes and her voice takes on a bit of a petulant tone. "Of course, even if it were, they're probably all so busy gushing about Mr. Bingley that they wouldn't even notice I was gone."
Her family can go completely foolish about things, sometimes.
Mary looks down the path the way Kate points and smiles a bit.
"I do believe I would like that. Thank you."
Horses, like most nothing else here, are something she knows her way around, even if she's not a skilled horsewoman herself.
She strikes Kate, so far, as the sensible sort of girl, which might well do her quite a favor around here. Or, it could make things all the more difficult. One thing for certain, is audiences with eligible men are something she will have to accustom herself with eventually.
"Mr. Bingley?"
She brings Beaut to her right side and starts in the direction of the stables, walking at an easy pace so that she and Miss Mary can continue to talk without difficulty. That name strikes her as familiar, and she wonders if it's not someone she's come across before.
Kate notices Mary when she's not more than a few yards off, and gives a polite nod.
"Hello, Miss."
Reply
Mary doesn't have to say it. Women only have slightly greater freedoms in the American West in Kate's age than they do in Miss Bennet's. Though, she does smile, patient and self-willed - an unusual juxtaposition that mirrors the unusual facets of the woman.
"I live here only as much as any of the rest of us do. I've had my door disappear, but it's always come back. I can leave any time, I simply find that I enjoy it here; an' the labor is satisfyin'."
Beaut nudges her gently, and starts pawing the ground.
"May I inquire as to your age, Miss Mary?"
Reply
"Well. Yes," she says.
Even harder for her to wrap her mind around is the idea that a person would want to stay here willingly.
"I'll be eighteen in a few weeks time," she adds.
It is, by Mary's reckoning, the 20th of October and her birthday is November 8th.
Reply
"And already introduced t'society, I'd reckon? Are you wed?"
Reply
"I am. Introduced, that is. I'm not yet married."
Mary is slightly warmer to the subject of being married than she is to being out in society. Balls and parties and the like just leave her feeling horribly self-conscious and awkward. Being married would be all right, she supposes, especially if she could make a good match for her family's sake.
Pity that one has to put up with being out in society to find a husband.
"My sisters and I are all out together. I think Mother just thought it was easier that way as we're all so close. I have two elder and two younger."
Reply
"With the elder ones I'm sure there's more pressure put upon their responsibility t'find suitable husbands with suitable incomes, but no doubt you're aware of what society expects of us. I'm an only child; my momma died when I was young, an' my daddy when I was around your age. I grew up understandin' that he wanted me t'find a good match, but also that I could be self-supportin'. Take care of myself."
She was a willful and difficult child. She hasn't changed much over the years.
"I haven't wed, an' I've lost my property. It might be unusual, but I'm not above workin' t'make my own way. I know at least I won't fall t'poverty."
To a hangman's noose, or a scoundrel's pistol - well, that's a different story.
Reply
As mad as they can drive her, Mary can't imagine such a loss, both of people she (at the end of the day) loves and of such a basic level of security. Of course, some young women left alone in the world find good situations with family or guardians, but many others do not.
Mary chew on the inside of her cheek for a moment. It's hard, having to think of ways to explain things that everyone who she knows just takes for granted.
"My sisters and I don't work in that manner. Our father is a gentleman, you see, even if he's not the richest of men. It's just not something we are to do. If I were to take a position as...as...a shopkeeper or a tavern server or even a governess, it would harm my chances at a decent match, and likely my sisters' too."
"Of course," she adds, dryly, "if word ever got out that I was living alone in a magical tavern, I'm sure the damage to my reputation would be ten times worse."
Reply
"I found my thoughts not very far from yours when I first came here."
It wasn't helped by the company of a rather charming, rather beautiful man, who often times made her forget entirely why the rules of society were so important.
"But the chances of that happenin' aren't very high. Time in your world should've paused the moment y'stepped through the door here, an' you'll return to things just as they were when y'left. Even if someone from your world should happen upon you here, I doubt they'd endanger your reputation for want of protectin' their own."
She gestures further along the lake path, out to where it forks and heads in the direction of the stables.
"Would y'care t'see the stables? They might be the most normal thing about this place, if y'don't mind a mythical creature or two."
Reply
Such is her lot.
"Other people have mentioned the same thing, that time isn't passing on the outside." Mary rolls her eyes and her voice takes on a bit of a petulant tone. "Of course, even if it were, they're probably all so busy gushing about Mr. Bingley that they wouldn't even notice I was gone."
Her family can go completely foolish about things, sometimes.
Mary looks down the path the way Kate points and smiles a bit.
"I do believe I would like that. Thank you."
Horses, like most nothing else here, are something she knows her way around, even if she's not a skilled horsewoman herself.
Reply
"Mr. Bingley?"
She brings Beaut to her right side and starts in the direction of the stables, walking at an easy pace so that she and Miss Mary can continue to talk without difficulty. That name strikes her as familiar, and she wonders if it's not someone she's come across before.
Reply
Leave a comment