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Since she had never been told that children are entitled to develop their own personalities, Maria
And there was music.
The squire had, upon demand, bought his daughter the finest available pianoforte, of carved rosewood with puckered silk panels and gold candleholders. Why should he not? He never paid for it, although, to do him justice, he fully intended to do so. If the piano dealer had not gone bankrupt first… Before that, Maria
The inadvertent mixture of educational styles had, in fact, produced a rather remarkable personality. From Mrs. Jay Maria
How, one might ask, did Maria
When dusk was far advanced, the vicar's widow roused herself and ordered the candles to be brought in. Gas lighting devices had not reached the village, and if they had, Mrs. Jay would not have tolerated them. On this particular evening the pale, limited light seemed scarcely to relieve the darkness; Mrs. Jay had to force herself to reach for one of the pieces of fabric laid out on the table. Black thread on black fabric – difficult even for young, strong eyes to see. But the work had to be done, especially now, in view of the unexpected diminution of Maria
"We must discuss your future," she said.
Maria
"I must find work, I suppose," she said.
"You have, I take it, no other – er – option?" Mrs. Jay inquired. She was sure Maria
This belief was, of course, an illusion. No young girl is foolish enough to tell a strict older woman about her romantic daydreams and adventures. Maria
It would have been better for Maria
It had happened that very morning. Maria
John Bruton was a neighbor, the son of one of the squire's favorite drinking and hunting cronies. Mr. Bruton was of the new gentry; having made his fortune by the efficient exploitation of child labor in his mills, he had been able to retire from trade and purchase gentility, in the form of a country seat, which he promptly renamed Bruton Hall. His eldest son, John, had been one of Maria
Still, he was an old friend, and when she entered the hall and found him pacing up and down, irritably switching at the dying plants with his riding crop, she was glad to see him.
"Dear John, how good of you to come," she exclaimed, giving him her hand. "I trust your mother is better today?"
"Nothing wrong with the old lady but overeating. Now you – by Gad, you look absolutely first-rate today, Maria
"I don't feel first-rate." With some difficulty Maria
"Oh, well – Gad – yes, that's so. You always do put things so well, Maria
His eyes fixed themselves on her face with a look she had learned to know, and dislike, over the past months. Maria
"Yes," she went on musingly, "the end has come. I will see my ancestral halls no more. The orphaned child must wander, seeking her fortune in the cold, unfeeling world."
This touching sentiment ended in an inappropriate grunt as two arms wrapped around her waist so vigorously that the air was expelled from her lungs. The young man's moist cheek flattened the curls at her temple; his hot breath stirred the tendrils of hair above her ear as he whispered, "It don't have to be that way, m'dear. Er – that is – demmit, I can't talk elegant like you, but- er – I mean – I'll take care of you. No need to wander, eh? Pa don't ask what I do with my allowance, he gives me all I want, enough for a nice little house with a garden- you're fond of flowers and all that – even a carriage, if I can screw a bit more out of the old… oh, Maria
It was not the first time Maria