18 February, 1666
Later to-day I am to do more work for the business and I dread it. All those numbers, so boring! I wish Mother and Father would let Lily do this, as she is actually very goode with Mathematics and Logic. Despite her obvious talent, they find her taking any part in the Accounting of their Trade business as "improper".
Instead, we must fit their mold. I am to run numbers and Lily has her new Governess starting soon, Violet. She shall teach her Accomplishments with music and sewing and the like. She had a Governess before, Meg, whom she got on with quite well, but has recently left and I am un-sure as to why.
Violent's lessons are to make Lily a proper young lady and in a few short yeares, a wife. While she wishes to marry one day, she has said to me numerous times she wants to pick a man who values her mind. Besides, I know she de-spises such fussy things as sewing.
I hate seeing her being held back by Father's way of thinking. Mother isn't any better since she just agrees with him. I have no idea how all this accounting business even works. Father keeps telling me how well I'd do with it. But I have no mind for numbers. I grow restless and learn nothing. I don't understand why they re-fuse to see it.
~*~
"Father?"
Lily's confident voice seemed to awaken the living room. It was previously hushed by a large, crackling fireplace and the low talking with Francis once again trying to explain to Will the arithmetic that went into their business dealings.
But now Lily stood before Francis, staring at him even before he looked up at her. "Can't I help with the new account too?" she asked, gesturing to Will who sat frowning over the work at a small table, desperately lost in a sea of numbers.
Francis sighed and shook his head as he stared up at his daughter. "Come now, there's no need to concern yourself with such things." he waved his hand away. "Wouldn't you be happier with something else?"
"Not...especially." Lily frowned, then looked at the only other woman in the room, seeking validation.
"Mother, can't I?" she begged, pointing at Will again. "Please?"
Margaret looked sympathetically at her daughter, but grew wary when she saw her husband. She was torn. Her eyes scanned the room uncomfortably before she deflected her daughter's pleas.
Margaret tilted her head slightly. "Darling, isn't Violet coming soon? You wouldn't want to be late for her on her first day, would you?" she asked, slightly shaking her head as she spoke.
"No, I wouldn't." Lily replied with a disappointed sigh.
"Besides," Margaret glanced at the nearby Grandfather clock. "it's nearly three-thirty. I assume you'd like to make a good first impression?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I imagine you'd like me to change." Lily replied.
"Well, there's a good girl." Margaret approved with a bright smile.
Lily sighed and turned from the room, snatching up her sampler on the way out.
Will watched his sister leave, and sighed. He knew nothing about this work, and hated how mind-numbingly boring it was. But for some reason, she loved it.
"Now then, we should--" Francis paused for a moment, shuffling around his papers. "I--I forgot that book, with the red cover. Bring it here, yes? It's on my desk."
"All right." Will agreed as he got to his feet, relieved to spend a second away from this mathematical nonsense.
After entering his father's study and picking up the correct leather-bound book, Will notice a large paper on the desk, and happened to see his name written on the top.
"What is this..." he leaned in and squinted, curious.
He sank into his father's chair and put the book aside. He carefully slid the page from under various other items. It was a calendar with a fresh sheath of paper. Within these pages, he was horrified to find an agenda for his own life spread out neatly before him.
His parents had dates listed for when he'd do more and more in their business and when they'd set meetings with Sarah, spanned over the next few months. Later pages revealed a list of tentative goals without a date set.
They had already decided on almost every major life decision that would be part of his future. His engagement to Sarah should last at least eight months and they were anticipating they would get married within the next two years.
It got worse: Later pages revealed they expected he would take a prominent place in their business by the time he was eighteen and even noted the importance of him 'producing an heir' for his family.
His eyes and mind blurred as the gravity of the situation surged forth. His heart began to pound, and he suddenly felt like he was gasping for air.
He leapt from the desk in a panic, quickly shuffling the papers back on the desk. He grabbed the book and rushed out of the room, unable to process what he'd seen.
He bolted to the living room, breathing heavily and looking about anxiously. As he entered, the book slid from his hands and fell to the hardwood floor with a loud thump. He grabbed it and scurried over to his father.
"I--I don't feel well. Would you please excuse me?" he begged with pleading eyes.
"Very well. But I expect to continue later." he said with a serious nod.
"Thank you." Will breathed and made a beeline for the door.
He dashed up the stairs as fast as he could, rapid heartbeats straining his chest.
Back in his room, Will ran to his desk and grabbed his journal as terrified tears misted his eyes. His hands were shaking with a mix of resentment, fear and disappointment so strongly that he could barely read what he was writing. It flew from his hand as fast as the words came to mind. He was desolate:
I have just wit-nessed a schedule for my entire life. My parents have been kepeing a time-table for me concerning their business, courting Sarah, getting married, everything! I am shocked and hurt. I knew they had plans, we've discussed it here and there, but they want to make all those choices for me? Doesn't anything I have to say about my own life matter? As I saw what they wanted for my life, I became so horrified I was de-tached from it completely. Am I supposed to trudge on-wards in the steps they have placed out for me? Is there no way to break from their restraint? Why should I bother even living if all of my choices are made for me and my voice shall never be heard nor will my own needs and wants be met?
Will paused. He'd startled himself. His chair creaked as he sat back in a daze.
Had he just considered dying to escape the life which was set for him?
He had to ask himself: was he desperate enough to give up permanently?
No, he wouldn't give up. Not if he could change his own life. He wrote on, clinging to the one place he could be himself:
Yet, if I choose to not live, they win. Besides, losing my free will shouldn't be answered by losing my life. Why waste my life when I'm perfectly able to live a better one in my own way? This may be what they want for my life, but that doesn't mean I have to follow it. Why should I live based on their wants and needs, and not my own?
While they can control out-side action, they can-not control my thoughts, or my expression of them here. I am so grate-ful Uncle Deus chose this journal for me! So if I keep writing, I'll keep thinking. If I keep thinking, I'll retain my own opinions and make my own choices.
I will not give up these pages, they're mine. I will not re-linquish my freedom, I will kepe it secretly. I will not destroy or end my life, I will redesign it to my own liking. This will be my new endeavor.
He made a rebellious choice that cold February afternoon: He wouldn't give up on his life. He'd find a way, any way, to control it.
He had no idea his parents were this deceptive. Until recently, their home life had been relatively pleasant. They had different viewpoints on some things but generally, they didn't have much by way of conflict. So if his parents were planning on deceiving him when the stakes were higher, he would respond in kind.
The primary task in his retaliation was clear: secretly work towards the life he wanted, while pretending to abide to theirs.
He clung to his goals. It was the first step in reclaiming his life.
I shall be happy to pre-vail over them, but how I wish I didn't have to in the first place! Why can't I just live with Uncle Deus? We have so much more in common and he supports me, and Lily!
I think he's brilliant. As I mentioned, he loves the studye of 'Natural Philosophy.' Besides the studye of animals, plants and humans, it also includes a studye of the stars, planets, the Elements, even the weather! Due to his avid interest, about two yeares ago he joined a groupe called: "The Royal Society of London for Improving Natural Knowledge" or simply "The Royal Society." Mother disapproves and Father, being both his brother and business partner, has no opinion on this matter. Uncle Deus especially loves Astrology, Astronomy and Alchemy.
In spare time he is a match-maker. He lost his wife, Emily, yeares ago and has never re-married nor taken off his wedding ring. He says his noble endeavor of match-making is to bring true love to others as he cannot bring back his own. He does not make matches by wealth or status like most, but by clear attraction. He changes others' lives for the better.
I can only hope that some-day, one of those lives will be my own.
~*~
Meanwhile; in a much more relaxing situation, Augustus had taken up various pursuits, now that he was leading an easier life, free to explore new interests. This included chess, which he was actually quite good at, despite never even hearing of it before. Francis had tried playing it with Will one day, and after Will lost interest due to frustration, he decided to show it to Augustus instead.
"That's...incredible." the older man nearly whispered, as he stared motionlessly at the thick black-and-grey board before him, eyes wide with shock. The army of small bronze statues spanned the board in an unexpected arrangement. Augustus, who had never even heard of chess before this, had won the entire game in a handful of turns.
Augustus's confused eyes flew from the board to meet his. What was Francis so stunned by?
"How'd ya mean?" he asked, confused.
"You--you just won."
Augustus knit his brows in confusion. "What? We've been playing nary a half hour."
"You did." he nodded, pointing at his silver chess pieces. "My King here?" he picked up the largest silver piece on the board. "You put him in danger and he cannot move. You won."
"Well, it's probably just luck." he shrugged humbly.
"No, no, no!" he insisted, shaking his head. "This is a game of skill and strategy." he was honestly impressed.
"Shall we go again?" Augustus asked brightly.
"Verily."
They played again, for another twenty minutes.
"You won again!" Francis nearly cried, jaw dropping in surprise."This time in only five turns."
"Really?"
"Yes." Francis replied with a vigorous nod.
Augustus looked at the board, wide-eyed and quizzical. He picked up each of his pieces again, whispering to himself about all their names and where they could move.
"Margaret, come here and look at this." Francis instructed his wife. "We have been playing for just over forty-five minutes and he won after each of us taking seven turns. Then he won again after only five."
"By God child." Margaret laid a hand on her chest, shocked as she looked at him. "You've got a gift."
He looked up, and sounded slightly confused as he spoke: "I'm sorry, what was this game called again?"