Her Grand Illusion: Prologue

Her Grand Illusion:
Prologue

Cheddar Wells, Somerset, England
February, 1773

"I won't marry that disgusting old man!" Lucy hissed as she slapped the curtains closed. "I won't! How can you make me do such a thing?"

Her mother stood behind Lucy, fingers touching the girl's back. "Lucy, you know it's not my decision, but your papa's. Were it mine to make, why, I'd let you stay -- until you did choose someone to marry. But you are nineteen now and you haven't so much as looked at anyone in town. Your papa has not my patience."

Lucy turned to face her mother, "But I could care for the both of you -- into your old age. I would not be a burden to you and papa."

Lucy's mother pursed her lips and cast her gaze to the side. "Your father does not see things as you or I do. And we must abide by his decisions. whether we like them or not."

Lucy sighed, feeling the tendons in her neck tighten. "And you would let him, Mama. You would not offer an argument for me, you would let Papa hand me off to that wretched old man."

Before Lucy's mother could reply, the kitchen door shuddered open and in it stood the tall figure of Lucy's father, framed by the haze of morning sunlight. "Morris Tompsett is here to collect Lucy, Esther. Have her things been packed?" The voice held no more emotion than if he were referring to the exchange of livestock.

"Lucy's trunk is packed," Esther said, nodding slowly at the heavy chest near the kitchen table. "May we have a few moments more?"

"And for what?" the father raged. "You've had her for nineteen years, she can visit you when she likes. It is time for her to go, the banns have been posted and the magistrate is ready. Lucy will be a married woman by tonight, I own."

Lucy rushed toward her father and grabbed at the lapels of his greatcoat. "Papa -- you mustn't let old Morris have me! Please! I'll sleep in the barn if you wish, I'll--"

Lucy's father grasped his daughter's shoulder hard and gave her a rough push. "There will be no more pleading from you, girl. The judgment has been made. I'll brook no further protests from you or your mother."

Lucy looked at her mother, but the woman kept her eyes averted, hands clasped together beneath her chin as if in prayer. Then she returned to stare at her father, his impassive gaze an impenetrable barrier. No matter how she screamed, no matter what practical entreaties she offered, his decision would remain set. She was trapped, doomed.

With a sudden calmness Lucy leveled her gaze squarely at her father. "I will leave then -- but know this: I shall never, ever speak your name again. Nor will I ever have children from this unholy union and I will curse you forever for the life you've condemned me to. I hate you both." And she turned abruptly to find her mother looking directly at her, tears spilling down her cheeks.

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By summer Lucy heard that her father had passed away. Her mother requested that she be present at the funeral. Lucy refused to attend. Lucy's mother had a package delivered to her a week later -- it was her father's favorite gold watch fob. He had worn it every day of his life, as long as Lucy could remember. It was his most prized possession. Lucy could not understand why her mother had sent it to her.

One night, Lucy brought the small watch into the barn and set it upon a block of wood used for decapitating chickens. Lucy took up a mallet, held the handle firmly with both hands, and swung it above her head. For a moment she gazed at the watch, seeing her father hook the fob onto his belt every morning before setting off to do his chores. She saw her father lovingly polishing the watch each night before setting it on his bedside table before going to sleep.

In a blur she brought the mallet squarely down upon the watch, fragments of metal shooting into the hay.

###

In October of that same year, as Lucy was milking the cows one morning, Morris Tompsett shouted from the doorway of the barn that her mother had died. When he was gone, Lucy lay her forehead against the cow's belly and wept silently. Tears, one after the other, dripped into the milk pail with a hollow sound.