Prologue
Cornwall, England, 1828
The seventeen year old girl, Mary Kendall, looked out of the window. She wore a faded hat on her head, a shawl across her body, so that she could keep warm, and a long dress that hit the bottom of the small room. In her right hand was a mop. She heard the creaking of the floorboards; she saw every village girl waiting to serve their Masters, and Mistresses.
The Cornwall coast was lashed with violent waves that bashed the sharp cliffs. The caves were used by smugglers over the last century; the mines were used to get oil; the water raged in a swirling motion, as Mary knew that her future was bleak unless she worked hard to keep her job.
It was Monday, March 6, and the temperature was freezing.
*
The soldier stood near the cliffs.
He smoked a pipe.
The fiery embers wafted across the ocean. 'What is a girl like you doing here?', he asked Mary.
'I am fine, Sir'.
'I am not a "Sir"; I am an Officer of the British Army, Miss. I serve the Crown'. She watched him.
'Be careful of the rocks, it's slippery'.
'Aye, Miss. I'm Officer John Jenkins'.
'Mary', she said.
'Please to meet you, Mary. Are you alone?', he asked her.
'I serve my Master, and Mistress. And the pay is low', Mary answered. Officer Jenkins nodded.
'All of the girls are taken by men who know them. Cornwall is cold, and every soldier dreams of London'.
'Is that so?'.
'Aye, besides, there's a problem with orders here'.
'Orders; what orders?'.
'Scottish orders. I was born in Edinburgh'.
'I know from your accent'.
'I am a Scotsman, Mary. I may come back for you'.
'Is that true?'.
'Aye, besides, you can't mop the dirty floors for a long time. It's not for girls to work harder than their husbands, and lovers'.
'Will you return?'.
'Aye, I will, Mary'.
And she smiled.
*
'Come in, Carstairs', Lord Roger Lester told the butler.
'My Lord'.
He stared at the Lord.
'Over time, there's been smuggling in the caves. I don't need to tell you what you need to hear, or do; I want order in this Mansion'. Carstairs nodded. He looked at his warm fireplace, as the Cornwall weather decreased by the hour. Lord Lester stared at the regal looking paintings that were framed on the creamy wall in the lounge room; the grey leather chairs were separated by the Iron Doors.
Then the door opened, and Lady Elizabeth Lester appeared.
'Good evening, dear. Carstairs'.
'Good evening, my Lady'.
She glided towards her favorite chair, and read a book from the Library.
*
Mary watched the sun go down.
She imagined her mother tell her not to sew in the quarters. She didn't want to upset her; she was reading, and going to school. The memories of her teachers in Cornwall hadn't disappeared; her eyes shifted at the coast, where it was dark in the evenings; her face was etched in concern over the sea men, and miners in the village. The idea of making her way in the World became her concern; her ears heard the Church bells, as Catholic Mass was at 9:00 AM, sharp.
*
The last time Father O'Neil stood by the pew he was worried that his worshippers wouldn't see him after the service. The Vestry prayers were finished within the hour; the prayers were full of God's love, and Jesus's forgiveness for the sins of the World; sins that was cleansed by uttering the Words of their followers. He glanced at the people, and spoke.
'Today is about His day; Jesus's day. And that he died for all of us'. He drank from the Holy goblet in his right hand, and everyone bowed, before the service ended.
*
Mary pondered on her thoughts.
She looked at the house nearby.
A garden was nearby, as well as a Conservatory.
Several garden statues were in the middle.
She walked towards some grey chairs.
And she sat down.
As she did so, a young man appeared. He was upset. 'Excuse me Sir, but what ails you?', she asked him.
'Me; oh, I don't want to be a bother, Miss...I lost a pocket clock from Anderson's Clocks; I am rather ashamed as it was brought by Miss Alma Pryce, my sister-in-law, and I feel sad about what happened. You see, Mother and Father are away in New York for their winter in America. I couldn't go because I tend to lose things. And every time I go to Cornwall, the smugglers steal gold, silver, and other treasures from the mines, and cold caves. I'm Aldric Gorman'.
'Mary Kendall'.509Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuLDBid9BqK
'That's Irish'.
'English'.
'Oh, I see. My mistake. Please, would you like some tea, and cakes?', Aldric asked her.
'I'd be delighted too', Mary answered.509Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXGNVnFScXZ
And she smiled for the first time in a long time.
*
Page 1.
ns 172.71.254.48da2
and then Add to home screen.