Can you break a promise you never made?
Marcella is engaged to a complete stranger, against her will. She knows her parents mean well, but she has decided to run her own life.
It will cost her dearly. Is she willing to let so much go?
It was one week before the wedding and it seemed that Marcella had surrendered to her engagement. In truth, she had been so busy with wedding preparations that she did not have time to make other plans. She was taught how to sew practical clothes and how to save and pinch and be thrifty. Invitations had to be sent out. The wedding gown was not yet finished and she still lacked half of her marriage wardrobe. When a woman was married, she wore long, loose pants that looked very much like a skirt and very supportive halter tops. Then there was the matter of food. There were various pastries to bake and dumplings to deep-fry. Meat had to be bought and marinated so that it could be roasted on the day.
Late that evening, as Marcella sat sewing one of her tops, she realized how close the time was. There had been so much to do, that she almost forgot why she was doing it. She put her sewing down to trace the scar on her wrist. She remembered the raw feelings of that day and something in her stirred. Would she give up so easily? Was there anything else to be done? She still had not met her fiancé, but had heard of his family, the Nalluins. They were land-owners. They rented more than a dozen farm-land areas to farmers without their own land and owned many buildings in town. Marcella sneered as she thought of it. She would probably the third wife of an old man who over-charged poor families for the leaky roof above their heads. She would not surrender to such a life. A plan for escape was beginning to take shape.
After bidding her parents goodnight, Marcella hurried to her room. She proceeded to unpack her drawers and lay everything on the floor. She had not been taught how to write, but had invented a set of scribbles that made sense to her. She started making a list. Three sturdy, modest jumpsuits. Two apron dresses. One head scarf, one neck scarf, one long coat. She peered over at the chest where her marriage clothes lay. Should she? She opened it. One culotte, one halter top. The halter corset? No. She looked around, thinking hard. She got up and quietly slipped to the kitchen. The store cupboard really only kept stuff they didn't use. She rummaged through it looking for anything that might be useful. She emerged dusty and disappointed.
"Maybe I need some shhh, aaaagh!" A spider swung from a strand of her hair. She swatted frantically at her hair and face and clothes. She shuddered as it scuttled under a floorboard. She heard the creak of doors. She must have woken her parents. She grabbed buttermilk and a cup. "Marcella?" she heard her mother's voice.
"Yes Mama?" Marcella answered.
Her mother entered the kitchen. She looked at Marcella and raised an eyebrow.
"I was getting a snack when a spider startled me." She explained.
"Ah," her mother still looked at her strangely. Did she know the plan? Would she end it before it had begun?
"What is the candle for?" Marcella glanced down. What she had thought was a cup was in fact a candle they burned to repel bugs.
"Umm, it was dark and I thought it was a cup..." she grinned sheepishly.
Her mother nodded, already un-interested.
"When you're finished, get some sleep," she mumbled.
Marcella leaned against the counter. That had been to close, but it got her thinking. There was a flaw in her plan. She could deal with it later. She first had to complete the task at hand.
In her room, she set the things on her list in a separate drawer and packed everything else away carefully. No one should notice a thing. With a smirk she climbed into bed. She felt the way she did when her mother told a story, but this time, Marcella was making her own.
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