Lexi Pinto

     “Yes, she is with Miss Susan and will join us shortly. She is delighted to meet you!”

A few moments later, our maid Susan appeared at my bedroom door.

“Miss Elsie, your mother requests your presence in the drawing room. Mr. Evans has come to meet you.” 

Susan was polite, but I could hear distaste in her voice. I wondered why she sounded so. I had never met him, but I had heard that he was wealthy, and a proper gentleman. After all, my parents would not have arranged my marriage to him if he were anything less than that. 

“Thank you, Susan.” I quickly powdered my face and slipped on my best shoes. As I approached the steps, I saw the side profile of a handsome man. I straightened my posture and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I wanted to make a lasting impression. 

“Here she is.” my mother said, “This is my Elsie.” I curtsied, and he bowed. When I looked up at Mr. Evans, my heart skipped a beat. His jawline looked as if it were carved from pure granite, and his eyes were a shocking blue. Golden-brown hair sat in lovely curls on top of his head. I was enchanted.

“How do you do, Miss Elsie?” His voice was so compelling that I almost gasped aloud.

“I am well. And you?” I replied, hoping I did not sound tense.

“I am fine as well. I am delighted to meet you at last!” He sounded so genuine. I almost fainted from the thought of marrying such a man!

“As am I, Mr. Evans.”

“Well then, Susan, we shall have our tea and scones in the East garden, if you would please bring them out.” My mother led us through the corridor and out onto my favorite part of our estate. A few moments later, Susan came out carrying a tray of scones and tea.

“So, Mr. Evans, do tell us about yourself.” My mother smiled at him.

“I love to hunt and ride horses. I enjoy reading and writing, and really anything that engages intelligence. Oh, and I am quite fond of dancing!” My mother started to fan herself. Susan stood back and observed quietly. She was supposed to leave the room to bring us tea cups. Her manner was quite odd. Mr. Evans looked over at her distastefully. Oh my, I wonder if he thinks poorly of our family now.

“My!” My mother exclaimed, “What a variety of talents! Elsie, too, loves reading and writing. Dancing as well! She plays the piano forte and draws, too.”

“That’s fantastic! My grandmother loves music. Miss Elsie, I can tell, you will be very close with her.” Mr. Evans was enthused. Susan shifted towards the doors after making fleeting eye contact with him. 

“Yes,” my mother started, “I believe that we are to be introduced to her in the days prior to the union! What a lovely day it will be,” she sighed. 

“Dinner is ready, Miss Charlotte.” Susan held open the doors to the main dining hall.

 

    ...

 

     After dinner was finished and Mr. Evans had left, I bade goodnight to my mother then went to my room to remove my corset. “Susan! Would you draw me a hot bath with some lavender?” 

“Right away, Miss Elsie.” Susan was already heating the water. 

“You are so efficient, Susan.”

“And you are very kind,” she said, as she mixed together dried lavender buds and some sea salt. “If you are not opposed to me asking, how do you like Mr. Evans?”

“Oh! I think he is wonderful! Isn’t he handsome? He’s more than I could’ve ever dreamt of. Just imagine me on our wedding day. With pearls and diamonds and a gown!” I imagined his bright eyes gazing at me and was taken away by the thought.

“Yes, a very handsome gentleman, indeed. And you will look divine, I’m sure. I must warn you though, Miss Elsie.” Susan used a hushed tone that instigated a nauseous buzz to rise through me. “His family has a questionable history. I would be distraught if anything unfortunate came from your union.” Susan helped me ease into the tub. She returned to her cheerful tone. “I put some salts in your bath to help with any aches you may have. Ring the bell when you are done soaking and I will bring you a warm towel.”

“Thank you, Susan.”

     As I soaked, I dreamed of the wedding and wearing a gorgeous dress adorned with the finest laces and the most luxurious pearls. The most amazing part of it all would be marrying a man that most ladies could only dream about. I started to daydream when a nagging thought entered my head. Susan’s words were sugar-coated with something bitter underneath. What does she know? She’s a servant! My mind started to trail off. I did not wish for Susan to help me anymore. I did not wish for anything to sour my wedding. Even if she did have a point, I wanted to ignore it. Ignorance is bliss, I remembered my parents would say. And so it is. I got out of the tub.

 

…

 

      The wedding day approached swiftly. My mother and I had joined Mr. Evans and his family twice for dinner at his estate in the planning for the ceremony. My wardrobe and belongings had been situated in Mr. Evan’s mansion, which he had inherited from his recently deceased grandfather. His mother was very enthusiastic and his father was a charming old man who carried the same features as my soon to be husband. The cakes were extravagantly iced. All of the bakers, tailors, and servants were frazzled but it seemed that Susan was exempt from that group. It seemed as if she was preoccupied. She would stare into space and ignore her surroundings. I could not figure out why but I was far from bothered. 

 

    Finally, the ceremony was minutes away. I had my dress snug around my waist and my hair in curls. Frills sat, layered, over my chest, showing off a beaded rosary and cross. I held up my veil and smiled at the intricate lace that adorned its surface.

“You look perfect, Elsie.” My mother smiled at me, then added worriedly, “are you prepared?”

“Don’t worry, mother, everything is just fine,” I replied. The sound of shattering glass interrupted our exchange.

“Stay here, darling, I’ll be right back. I assume a young servant had dropped a dish.” My mother, flustered, hurried from the room. 

While she was absent, I adjusted the neckline of my dress. I tugged downwards on the fabric until it held snugly around my chest and pushed my breasts up. I suddenly remembered my wedding night. The thought crept through my stomach and spun, gathering anxiety and excitement into an overwhelming dizziness. I played with the hem of my gown and swished the skirt to reveal my calf to the mirror. Imagine if my mother were still in the room, I thought while giggling and adjusting the dress back to its original placements around my frame. I had the most exquisite piece of nightwear set aside. It was eye-catching, yet subtle, and carried soft pink hues throughout. 

 

“Everything is fine; just some broken glass.” My mother walked back into the room and grabbed my hand. “It’s time, Elsie. You look so beautiful, my Darling.” She used her handkerchief to blot a teardrop forming in the corner of her eye. Composing herself, she pulled me towards the door then embraced me before hurrying ahead to the ceremony. Outside the door, I found my father standing in his finest suit offering his arm to me. I accepted and we started down steps and to the sanctuary door. Susan stood by the doors and gave me a cold smile. “You look lovely, Miss Elsie.”

“Thank you, Susan,” I replied skeptically. Two men swung open the grand doors to the chapel to reveal many smiling faces and couples adorned with the finest attire. Everyone was here to see my marriage. I felt so alive and adored. At the end of the aisle, Mr. Evans stood grinning towards me, and was more handsome than ever. My father squeezed my hand and joined my mother in the row closest to the altar. Our officiant began reciting a monotonous monologue as Mr. Evans and I gazed at each other. After what felt to be a lifetime, the officiant called for objections. I thought I may have dreamt it, but I saw Susan twitch near the back of the congregation with a dark look blurring her expression.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” There was polite clapping before we were escorted towards the dining room that sat in the side wing of the church. Brief exchanges were made between old friends and I received many congratulations. My mind was elsewhere, though. I continued sneaking glances at my husband to find him staring back at me intensely. Was he also thinking about tonight? Chills infected my spine and danced around my waist in excitement. I let a smile lie across my lips before turning away, and feigning indifference. We are still in a church. 

 

After some time, Mr. Evans escorted me to a carriage and we started back to his estate. The hour trip gave us plenty of time to spark conversation, but as soon as a couple of sentences were exchanged, a tense silence sat in the space between us. I could see his thoughts pass though his eyes and I began to worry that physical pleasure would be all I could ever bring to him. As the worries mounted, we approached the front of his estate. A mansion sat comfortably, nestled within rolling hills. I could have admired it for hours, but I was still distracted by the dull panic stemming from my core. We were helped inside. Before I could take in the details of my home, Mr. Evans offered his hand and led me up a grand staircase past a washroom, and towards French doors. 

“I will be back in a moment. I have something for you. Susan is here, and can help you in more comfortable attire.” My stomach plunged as Susan opened the doors and held out her hand. She wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Dear, what chest is your nightgown in?”

“The blue, I believe.”

“You must know, Ms. Elsie, your husband keeps slaves.” And like she had merely expressed the state of the weather, she went about opening the blue chest to pull out my pink satin nightgown. 

“He would never! He is morally sound, Susan.” Denying was my primary reaction to such accusations, though my stomach plunged again. 

“How do you know that? Do you know him well?”

The truth shattered over my head. I hardly know Mr. Evans. What if it’s true? What if he beats them? 

“Why should I believe you?“

“Have I ever lied?”

A crash sounded from down the stairs, and followed by the alarming noise, a cry of desperation rung.

“Someone, help!” Mr. Evans' voice rang in my ears. I ran from Susan and my worries, overcome with panic. When I had reached the call, I nearly collapsed at the sight before me. Mr. Evans was crushed, labordly breathing under a bookcase. The wood dug into his chest. I knelt down next to him in disbelief. I tried to lift the heavy furniture off of him, but my attempts were in vain. 

“Elsie,” Mr. Evans said, “Run, run away now.” 

”What do you mean?”

“Now, Elsie.” He gasped for air. Again I tried to lift the bookcase and again, it didn’t even move. 

“Elsie, now, please! Go…” He was cut off by another voice.

“I warned you, Elsie. Forgive me, dear, as I cannot have any witnesses.” I heard Susan’s voice ring before my arms were yanked by who appeared to be two slaves. I was torn from the room then shoved out a servant exit where the dirt they walked through clung to the edges of my gown. I was disgusted, yet was more worried about the greasy fingers that dug into my arms. 

“Hurry up, men. We will need ample sunlight to dispose of the corpses. Then retrieve your belongings before we head west. ” Susan hurriedly walked in front of the group. 

“Who do we start with?” The man grasping my right arm turned to Susan.

“Elsie Evans. Then go back for her husband.”

These moments passed though my consciousness in a blur, and it wasn’t until I felt the noose around my neck until I accepted what was about to happen.