1 Fiery spirit bidding her time in silence

Tears of despondency slowly cascaded down my cheeks leaving me completely weak and frail. In a dark corner of the attic, which stank like rotting meat and shuffling sounds of rats echoed in the eerie silence.

Pulling my knees to my chest, I sobbed miserably, helplessly; well aware of the fact that there was no one to hear me, console me or even sympathise with me. I missed the warmth of my mother's embrace, the softness of her kiss on my forehead and the assurance in her heavenly eyes. That face, the kindness in it, all of it was starting to fade away like a beautiful dream; one which I had to wake up from no matter what. A dream, of whose glimpses I strived to capture in my memory, but they kept floating away from me like the waves on the beach.

My mother had believed in me; she had supported and encouraged me making my dreams into her dreams and polishing me into a fighting spirit. But now she was no longer here with me; no longer having my back and pushing me forward.

What had become of her undying efforts?

A failure. A wretched creature like me, who struggled to survive day to day, a pleb who couldn't even dare to look at the skies, much less aim at them.

Dressed in torn, smelly rags, hair in a messy tangle, overflowing with lice, skin rough with calluses and darker than coal, not having been washed in months. The body being covered in scars from the daily thrashing with whips and feet sore from running around barefeet amongst thorns. My appearance was an insult to the enchantingly charming lady, whose hair was made by maids and clothes designed by the most expensive tailors. Who started her day with a long, refreshing bath, instead of by being pummelled mercilessly with any object at hand. Who lived like a princess, envied by all; only to end up worse than a despicable slave.

.....

Circumstances had reduced her from a butterfly to a worm, at one's disposal to be squished at any time. Natheless, there was still a fiery spirit in her bidding her time in silence, only to unleash unforgivable inferno on those brutes, who tortured her remorselessly.

.....

One year ago

Life was all about merriment and relaxation for Marie. Marie, a name recognised by all, a name which brought envy into the hearts of young ladies and admiration on the faces of men.

Her fame was not only dependent on her mesmerising looks; her character, wealth, knowledge and status were equally accountable. Marie maintained a cold and unapproachable behaviour with her suitors; she wanted to enjoy life to the fullest without being compromised by the complexities of a wedlock.

However, Marie was a completely different person in the company of her friends. She preferred to hobnob with the elite of equal standing as her. Keeping the usual formalities aside, Marie mingled with them cheerfully, usually being the center of all attention. Besides socializing, Marie was a diligent student and spent long hours reading the masterpieces of renowned scholars. Her vast knowledge made her quick-witted and sharp-tongued, debating on topics with intelligible arguments.

Marie's parents, Sir Edward and Madame Veronica Bonnett were of a liberal and amiable nature. She was given more privileges than other gentlewomen of her age. While other dainty young ladies were preoccupied in learning the domestic arts and spent days in the company of their skilled women, enhancing their expertise in cooking, sewing, dancing and art to be called a well-bred gentlewoman; Marie stuffed her brain with facts and theories, exhibiting great interest in more activities that befitted the opposite gender like horse riding and hunting in the thick jungles. She was a wild spirit, aiming for the stars.

This kind of character was most highly expected to be due to a supportive father. However this was surely not in this case. Marie's strength, her source of encouragement was her mother, the materfamilias of her life. It was her mother's undying and relentless efforts that constructed her, giving her the confidence to keep her head high while doing what she loved. Whilst her father was the principal financial supporter, on whose earnings and hard work they survived, he was completely uninterested in her dreams and goals of life. It was her mother who gave her the push she needed, polishing her into perfection. It was not like Marie didn't possess the qualities and conduct of a gentlewoman; she was well trained, of course by her mother, than most in that matter and did not fail to keep her civilities intact in her daily life. Nevertheless, Marie chose to be unique; to do someting out of the box, while having finesse in her character within the box as well. This outlook was built in her by Madame Veronica, her mother, who wanted to achieve the impossible: something that her circumstances had stopped her from doing.

...

Henceforth, this was how Marie's life had been progressing before that day, eleven months ago, when she came face to face with the bitter reality of this world for most females who chose to be forward thinkers at that time.

Marie and her mother had been going to visit her uncle, Sir Curduroy, to Shrewsbury, a large market town and country town of Shropshire, England. They were travelling in a spacious stagecoach, pulled by sturdy horses, with two maids, their butler and two horsemen accompanying them. Madame Veronica had a content smile on her face, as she hummed a tune, while viewing the vast, lush green landscape, with well managed fruit orchards and wild flowers growing at places. The sight, the exhilarating feeling she felt as she exhaled the fresh air, lifted her spirits. Beside her, Marie, the apple of her eye was experiencing the same thing as she scanned through a book on 'Effective thinking reasoning and conversation' with utmost concentration. This book had been specially selected because Marie had been going non compos mentis while trying to reason with a particularly exasperating acquaintance, who refused to accept her beliefs in gender equality. Hence, she was adamant to prove herself right at their next meeting.

The coach had been proceeding at a breakneck speed; therefore they only had to cross the woods and would reach the highway that led straight to their destination. It was a joyous journey; Veronica had ended her hummimg and started singing, only to be joined in by the other females with her. Marie was ecstatic and merrily clapped her hands, as she and her mother broke the records of the most beautiful duo singing ever.

Suddenly the coach came to an abrupt stop, breaking their reverie. A blood curling scream by the horseman indicated the imminent danger of being ambushed.