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Post by CelticCailín on Dec 3, 2011 23:27:47 GMT -5
'Mother, I don't want this. I don't want to be a doll, someone else's property. I'm a person, not the porcelain doll you all think I am.' Those were the words I wanted to be able to say, but only had the courage to say them aloud in the cofines of my room. All this fuss because my older sister Ashley had already been paired off, and I was the one left, the one no man wanted yet, according to my mother.
I turned back to the ugly, too frilly outfit. It wasn't me, not at all. All my mother and my sister.
So, so trapped. Not free, a bird in a cage, dying to be let out, but nobody noticed my desperate attempts to be in control of my own life.
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Post by celticbear on Dec 3, 2011 23:29:18 GMT -5
Dee! nice start to a new Story! Looking forward to see where this one leads!
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Post by CelticCailín on Dec 3, 2011 23:45:14 GMT -5
Hatefully, I pulled on the outfit that I had no say in at all. The teal suit jacket and matching pencil skirt, completed by a gaudy green hat and white wrist length gloves, and of course, pearls. Some girls would love this, think it's the best life can get. But they'd be wrong.
I didn't look like me, I saw a stranger, someone who was all looks, nothing else. I was expected to smile, be charming, and that's about it. The pressure is immense, like trying to hold up a skyscraper. Impossible, but it's asked of you anyway.
A quiet knock on my door. Trudy, my maid. She I could actually speak to about what I wanted from life. A man who loves me for me, not how much money I will make him inherit; nor how beautiful I am so he can be the envy of his friends.
'Miss Molly, the limousine's a waiting.' said Trudy politely.
'Thank you, Trudy. I wish I didn't have to go, I don't want to get married off for money; status. I want to know what it's like to be loved, real love. Not the kind you can buy with clothes and diamonds.'
'I'm sympathetic to you, Miss Molly. I feel for you, I really do.' expressed the woman not much older than my own twenty years, but like my sister I wish I had.
'I've to be off before Mother starts again on the courting threats.'
'A good day to you, Miss. Good luck.'
I walked down the curving, long starircase that was adorned with our family's crest. As if it could be more obnoxious! Rwching the bottom of the stairs, I saw my scowling mother waiting.
'Margaret Annelise Forrest! What on earth took you so long?!? We've to be off to the dinner at the Rooney's! Many a young man will be present. I expect you to be most cordial and ladylike.'
'Mother, I told you I prefer to be called Molly. Not Margaret Annelise.' I said in a strained yet somehow still polite tone.
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Post by celticbear on Dec 3, 2011 23:50:29 GMT -5
Ouch! it's plain to see Molly is not the frilly girlly girl type! Her mother needs to have her head examined. Please Dee hurry up and get Molly out of this fix!
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Post by CelticCailín on Dec 3, 2011 23:57:21 GMT -5
'Your name is Margaret Annelise, Molly is a silly pet name that no daughter of mine shall be called.'
We got into the limousine, and drove the ten minutes over to the Rooney's. As expected, the extravangant mansion was littered with men in suits, women dressed to the nines in pearls and gloves. I stayed inside for awhile, but couldn't take the stuffy atmosphere and boring conversation a moment longer. I slipped outside, wandering in one of their many fields on the acreage. I did what I always did when I felt sad, lonely, like nothing I did mattered to what becomes of me. I sang.
I sang loud, not caring if anyone saw. I belted out one of my favorite songs, Isle of Hope, Isle of Pain. It was so true to my life, except that I hadn't left yet, but Ireland really could at times be an isle filled with pain and loneliness and desperation, and joy at other times. For me, at least it was.
If my mother knew I was singing, there'd be a price to pay. It was my escape from a life filled with frivolous ideals, and people who didn't actually care about me; just what I was worth financially and socially.
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Post by celticbear on Dec 4, 2011 0:23:49 GMT -5
Dee! Molly needs to meet Emmet fast! Before she becomes just like the rest of those stuck up Debutaunts!
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Post by CelticCailín on Dec 4, 2011 1:37:06 GMT -5
'For there's no future in the past..' I finished the tune slowly, the last few notes sounding melancholy to my own ears.
I gazed wistfully westwards, imagining all that lay beyond the waters of the Atlantic, a new life, a chance to really live; not just to be dressed up and told where, when, why, how like a child that must be obedient. I wanted to be independent, but I didn't have the ways or the means to do so. I heard a sound coming from behind me. It was somebody clapping.
I whirled around, almost toppling over in my high heels in the process. Quikcly, I shucked the shoes off my feet and threw them to the ground. The cold, dewy grass felt good on my bare feet. Natural, not something artificial.
I saw who had been clapping. It was a young man about my age, clad in a sharp looking black suit, white shirt, black tie, dress shoes. He must be one of the stuffy, posh ones at the event, probably come to take me back to be reprimanded by my mother. He had brown hair, blue eyes. He had a playful look about him, a light breeze ruffling his hair, swaying his suit jacket in the wind. Carefully, slowly, he walked closer, till he was not but three metres away.
'H'lo, Miss. What might a young lady like yourself be doing out here, singin' such a melancholy song?' he questioned me.
'Hello yourself, Mr..?'
'Cahill. Emmet's the name. And yours might be what, Miss??' he inquired.
'Well Mr.Cahill--'
'Please, call me Emmet. Mr. Cahill, that's so formal and a bit awkward.' he admitted.
'Alright, Emmet Cahill. My name is Margaret Annelise Forrest, but that's what my mother insist I be called. But I much prefer Molly, to be honest. Mother thinks it a common pet name, but I like it.'
'Okay then; Molly it is. What are you doing way out here, when there's such an important, and so entertaining dinner going on inside?' he remarked sarcastically. I laughed, I hadn't laughed in such a long, long time.
'I'm just not one of them. Not a commodity to be traded and sold. I'm a person with feelings and opinions, but nobody takes any of what I say into account.'
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Post by CelticCailín on Dec 4, 2011 2:10:46 GMT -5
'Must be a great deal harder, being a woman. Less freedom, I s'pose.' he said with pity in his voice.
'It is. I'm not taken as seriously as I'd like to be. That likely will never change, though. Soon, even less freedom than I have now..'
Emmet looked concerned, and a sort of confused expression spread across his face.
'Why, who would take away your freedom?'
I sighed, debating whether or not to spill my story to him. He looked well meaning enough, I thought.
'Whoever my mother hands me off to be chained to, excuse me, 'married' to for the rest of my life. My older sister is already married and moved away, so she expects me to follow very soon in my sister's footsteps.' I explained.
'Sounds as if your stuck between the expectations that have been forced upon you, and what your heart sounds like it wants.'
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Post by CelticCailín on Dec 4, 2011 13:11:21 GMT -5
'Yes, but there is no choice. My mother would have an apoleptic fit if I told her I didn't want to get married and be something else. She sees me as just a burden on her name and on her reputation. All because I don't sit and nod and act like I don't have a thought in my head. Very old fashioned, my mother is. Thinks women are to be seen and nought else.' I explained, a bit ashamed of my mother's ways.
'Surely, there must be some man, somebody you don't completely hate?'
'Every suitor I've ever had, they're all the same. Only about the money, what I look like. 'S shallow basis for the rest of your life, I think, anyways.' why was it so easy to talk to him? A natural, easy conversation that I'd never been able to have with anyone else before. It seemed like he was actually listening to me and what I had to say, and that was definitely a first for the record books!
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Post by HburgEagle44 on Dec 4, 2011 19:26:50 GMT -5
Wow, I really love this story!! Guess who she's going to be chained off to later? jk jk update!
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Post by CelticCailín on Dec 4, 2011 20:04:32 GMT -5
'I agree with you, 'tis shallow to only scratch the surface of somebody's personali---' he stopped short.
'What is it?' I asked, worried that maybe someone was watching or something like that.
'Margaret Anneliese! What are you doing with this man?!?'
Jaysus help me, my mother's butler, Simon had found me!
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Post by celticbear on Dec 4, 2011 21:41:46 GMT -5
Love the first meeting between Emmet and Molly! I hope that stuffy Butler Simon does not turn her in! EMMET IS THE PERFECT GUY FOR HER! HE WILL LISTEN AND RESPECT HER! JUST LIKE HE SHOULD! AFTER ALL EMMET IS A CT LAD AND THAT IS THE WAY HIS MOTHER AND NOW SHARON HAVE RAISED HIM!
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Post by CelticCailín on Dec 5, 2011 23:27:28 GMT -5
'I uhh.. it's nothing Simon; nothing at all.' I said, feeling warmth creep over my face. I knew he knew something was up, even though all we'd been doing was having a civil conversation.
'You are to come with me this instant, your mother shall hear of this, young lady! I can only imagine her disappointment at you not socialising with Roy as you should be.'
I wasn't five, I didn't want to be treated as such!
'Good Sir, we were just having a conversation. Honest to God truth.' interjected Emmet.
'That matters not. That she has been disobedient and brought a possible scandal upon her family's name is of utmost concern.'
'Simon, listen to me..' I started.
He grabbed me by the arm like a naughty child, and dragged me back toward the mansion. I turned quickly around, and mouthed a,'I'm so sorry.' back to Emmet. He gestured as if he was to come after me, but I shook my head no; that would be a bad idea.
When we reached the doors, Simon told me to act as if all had been fine. I plastered on a fake smile, and approached my mother.
'Where have you been?!? You should be with Roy!' she said through gritted teeth.
'Nowhere that concerns yourself, ma'am.'
'Don't you dare use that tone with me, young lady! Respect those who have raised you.' she pinched me hard on the back of the arm.
'I'd respect you if you did the same in kind.'
'That's enough! We're leaving this instant.' she hissed under her breath. I breathed a sigh of relief that I was going home, scared of what I knew was waiting at home when I returned, even though I am twenty years young.
The ride back to our estate was silent, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. When we got home, I ran upstairs, and shut myself in my room. I could hear my parents shindig downstairs.
'What on earth is going on, Joanne?' asked my father.
'Your daughter was talking to that Cahill lad! Simon told me! And she knows what this will do if word gets back to Roy!'
'She knows better than to act so foolish!' shouted my father.
'Apparently she dosen't!'
I sank down behind my door, knowing my future was sealed now, now more than ever my mother would try harder to keep up appearances and make it seem as though that cold, unfeeling man and I were as in love as two can be. Life is so unfair, I thought to myself. I could make good choices, if they'd only let me, I thought.
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Post by celticbear on Dec 6, 2011 21:38:26 GMT -5
Dee! NOW IS THE TIME FOR MOLLY TO GET THE YOU KNOW WHAT OUT OF DODGE! GOODBY TO SUCH STUCK UP SNOBBERY AND HELLO TO EMMET AND IRELAND!
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Post by CelticCailín on Dec 6, 2011 23:52:59 GMT -5
Dodge?
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