My not fair lady

The tenth day of November in the year of our lord, 1865, sunrise.

Dear reader

I promised you I would tell what fate availed to Jack and myself and now I shall.

Now, where was I, oh yes, I leaped up into Jack's arms just as Mother walked through the door.

Jack hastily placed me on the floor and I slipped my hand through his. Mother grabbed my arm and wrenched it away from Jack's. I yelled and in a desperate attempt to wrench myself free, I bit her wrist. It worked, she stumbled backwards, completely letting free of my hand. Jack took it instead and together, we both climbed out the window and ran down the bustling streets of Cambridge until we stumbled through the door of the butchers, shaking with laughter.

Mark looked up from his work, startled as Jack led me into his small bedroom at the back. Once in there, Jack took me in his arms and held me close.

"Oh, Grace," he whispered "What have we done?" I looked up from his chest and into his eyes. Whatever brief period of concern he had just been through stopped then as he cracked up laughing with me and carried me onto the bed, under the sheets.

Good lord, he is stirring! Farewell dear reader, I must stop writing now.

Lady Grace Willow