Welcome to Dershingham Vale! We are a no word count, post-Pride and Prejudice roleplay site that is set in the year 1827 in an isolated town located in England. Our plot is centered around the secrets, mysteries, and murders of the dark town and its inhabitants.
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Peasants 6 Posts
Posted on: Oct 21 2017, 01:21 AM
Lost in a maze
Of a thousand rainy days
Becky kept her head down as she scurried up the stairs, fingers wrapped tight, tight, tight around her bucket. She’d been late for everything this morning, and now she’d be late laying the afternoon fires as well. Stupid, stupid stupid. No wonder Cook called her simple and clumsy. She’d be lucky if she wasn’t tossed out on her ear before the next fortnight. And then where would she be? Sent packing back to Tom, like a sad kicked puppy, that’s where. The thought made her flinch and she almost dropped the basket again. ”Clumsy,” she growled to herself, ”Pay attention.” If she were alone, she would’ve given herself a good smack, but last time she did that, Cook had stared at her and said What’s-come-over-you-then, and You-alright-ain’t-having-some-sort-of-fit-are-you? So. She couldn’t hit herself, even though it would make her feel better.
She settled for pinching her arm instead.
The whole mess had started because she’d overslept. By the time she’d woken, Cook was cross, but she’d alrwady done Becky’s chores as well as her own. To make up for lost time, Becky skipped breakfast and spent the morning dashing about lighting the fires Cook wasn’t able to finish. Then she’d done the breakfast dishes and those from lunch, which made her late getting to the shops.
Once there, she’d been cornered by the butcher, who’d shouted and sworn at her because his bill wasn’t paid. Becky, shaking and near tears, had dropped her shopping basket and list and fled back to the house. Cook was not impressed. She gave Becky’s ears a good boxing, scolding her all the while. He’s-only-a-butcher she said, and, he-isn’t-going-to-eat-you-you-stupid-girl and What-am-I-to-feed-them-now-ey? Becky had said, I-don’t-know-miss and got another slap for being-cheeky. Cook shooed her from the kitchen with no midday meal either, saying, go-on-with-you-and-get-your-work-done-maybe-a-growling-stomac’ll-teach-you-not-to-be-such-a-ninny.
Now she hurried up the stairs, trying not to jump at shadows. The great old house was grand and fine, but something about it set Becky’s teeth on edge. She hadn’t slept well since she moved in, woken often by strange sounds and shadows that moved alon* the walls outside her room. Cook only said don’t-be-ridiculous and hush-with-that-nonsense when Becky mentioned it to her.ever since she kept quiet, but she hadn’t slept any better. Probably she was being silly, just like Cook said, but—she shook her head. ”Stop it. Have work to do,” and she gave herself another pinch.
Ducking into Lady Margaret’s room, Becky knelt by the fire. It was still glowing and she shivered as she worked. Adding fresh bits of paper and kindling from her box, she struck a match and tossed it in. Not long after, a cheerful fire blazed in the hearth. Becky rocked back on her heels, watching the flames. The room and indeed the whole house—and all her other chores—faded from her mind as she stared into the fire.
words: 474 | tag: @Margaret Preston | Notes: Enjoy!