Emilie Beaumont, Chp. 2, Gen. 2, 1724

~July, 1724~

Dear Diary:

     A few years have gone by since the deaths of my family members, and of course, Bernard's departure.  I have escaped the teenage years for good and now find myself at age twenty.

     Bernard, Bernard!  How great the pain is that he has caused me!  Each day I waited and he is still gone.  Each day the pain deepens.  Each day I cannot forgive him.  Each day the anger boils inside me higher and higher.  Twenty years, he had said. Twenty!  I will not wait that long for him.  He has probably forgotten me.  He will never have my love again.  He has probably found some other girl... 

     If I ever see him again, I will give him the hardest slap on the face I can muster.  Take that, true love!

     Over the years, Papa seems cold and hardened from the deaths.  I know how much he loved my mother.  He is getting very old, and honestly I do not know how much longer my dear father will live.

     Many times, late at night, I find my papa sitting on the couch, next to a lit candle and the great clock.  I have come to the conclusion that the presence of the clock is calming to all and that there is indeed something magical about it.  Maman died in front of it.  That clock was surrounded by fire and yet it did not burn.  

     But maybe, maybe Papa is waiting- for his time.  Maybe he is waiting for the time when he will join Elizabeth.

     Yours (I think Maman's saying is 'With love'- It's time for me to make my own),

          Emilie

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     Though Emilie did feel the pain of Bernard's absence, she had moved on.  She met a man named Frederique DeLui and they became romantic.  Emilie didn't know if she wanted to someday marry him, however.  There was something about him that she did not like. 

     Frederique had a high, nasally voice.  He came from a wealthy family, and all he wanted to do was talk about himself.  Emilie was annoyed constantly but did a fine job of masking her feelings into a smiling face.  Emilie had wanted to believe it was love but found herself questioning her feelings.  He loved her, she could tell, but she wasn't sure how she really felt about him.

     Frederique tried to be affectionate, which she did like, but it seemed like he put no energy into anything.  Their hugs would be stiff and awkward.  Frederique seemed bored.  Emilie tried to make herself believe that he was a nice man and he was smart and that she should eventually marry him.  After all, many other women don't get to choose their husbands.  He is great!  He loves me! Time after time, Emilie didn't know if she believed it.

     There was no spark of magic in Frederique's kisses.  Emilie had to admit to herself that Bernard's kisses couldn't be matched or bested.  Yet, Emilie kept herself on the strong belief that Bernard was not coming back, and even if he did, she would never love him again.  He had lost his chance with her.  She deserved something better.  But is Frederique better?

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     One morning after a breakfast of porridge, Emilie found a scrap of paper in her bowl.  It read, "door" in messy handwriting.  Emilie knew immediately who wrote it: Hettie.

     "Hettie!  What is this?  I could have eaten that piece of paper."

      When there was no answer, Emilie became annoyed.  "Hettie!"  A muffled noise upstairs told Emilie that her sister was coming.

     When Hettie approached, Emilie said, "Was this some sort of joke?  What if I ate that?  It was NOT funny.  Explain before I get even more upset, please."

     

     "I'm, um, not really so sure what you're talking about, Emilie.  I've been upstairs this whole time." Hettie mumbled, cheeks burning red.

     "Look, I just want to know why you did it.  Okay? I know you wrote it.  Your handwriting needs work."

     Hettie giggled.  "Well, you caught me.  Yes, I wrote the note.  But only because Felicity told me to.  She just left- she's going to Papa's printing office."

     Emilie rushed to the window.  Felicity was no where to be seen.  "Do you know why she wanted you to write it?"

     "Nope."  Hettie ran off.

     Emilie washed off the dish in the sink and sat in a chair, staring at the note.  A few taps at the door made Emilie perk up.  Door!

     Emilie rose from the chair.  She knew who it was.  She quietly walked over to the door. 

     There could be so much hurt and pain behind a smile, and no one could know.  

     "Bernard?"


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*The Antique Legacy*

Emilie Beaumont