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likesomekindofcheese · 4 years

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Songbird of Jamestown Chapter Five

Pairing: Samuel Castell x fem! Reader

Word Count: 6898

Summary: You are among the English maids in 1619-1620 who have agreed to board ship for the new world in Jamestown, with the intention to marry the men there. You have chosen to find a husband and life of your own and pay back the company, than be pre bought and bound to a random stranger. Life is difficult and you and your friends struggle, but there is a certain recorder who’s willing to help. He’s kind-hearted and handsome ...and has already been pledged to another.

A/N: this chapter is shorter than I intended (I have other WIPS and requests that need attending and after debate, the ending to this chapter felt better for the development of the next one), but here we are! A very dramatic chapter that was both fun and painful to write. I hope you like it and please comment or share if you do!

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, angst, drama, Jocelyn being Jocelyn, scenes of vomiting, sickness.

Taglist: @bluesfortheredj (sempai) @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @theworksgaga @itscale @theoneandonlyeclecticepileptic @queenlover05 @rubystarflight @themficsilike @namelesslosers @itsametaphorgwil

“Come, all you very merry London Girls,

That are disposed to Travel,

Here is a Voyage now at hand,

Will save your feet from gravel.

If you have shooes, you need not fear

For wearing out the Leather,

For why you shall on shipboard go,

Like Loving Rogues Together,

Some are already gone before,

The rest must after follow

Then come away and do not stay,

Your guide shall be Apollo!”

- Lawrence Price, “The Maiden’s of London’s Brave Adventures”, 1623.

“Miss Y/L/N …”

You thought you heard his voice.

“Oh Y/N, please…wake up, be strong again….”

You wanted to just croak out his name. Your lips parted, and a sound came out. It wasn’t his name. It was only a sound.

“Miss Y/L/N? Can you hear me? Take this!”

You could barely see him but a sudden taste that hit your tongue, full of bitterness. Then a drop of water that was brought to you. But no blots of color formed. No more signs of him. Only darkness.

Sometimes something like a nightmare came across your vision. You thought you saw something, but then it faded before it could devour you. Sometimes there were dreams, sometimes not.

Then another voice came up. It could have been an hour. It could have been a day. It wasn’t his voice, but a voice. A soft, lilting voice.

“Oh, dear Lord, please heal this lady. You know she is a dear, kind woman. No one has ever treated me as nicely here, other than my master and mistress of course. But she is a good friend. Your book even says a friend sticks closer than a brother. So, I must beg you, if it is in your will, to heal her from this dreaded and sudden illness. I would be most saddened if she were to die. You have placed me in her life, and unless You have planned so, please don’t take her away from it. Give her health again and wake her up, Amen.”

The words were flooding outside you when you woke up. You were lying on your bed, Mercy was right next to you. Her pale face and little brown head looked blurry, but you saw her turn her head at once.

She gave a grin and placed a hand over her heart, leaning to you.

“Oh, providence is kind! Miss Y/L/N!” she cried, getting up and then pausing. She knew you were too weak to embrace. She pulled herself back.

Your vision flooded back and you saw you were at home. You felt sticky and sweaty. Your bed was beneath you and you saw you only had your shift on.

“M…Mercy…what…what’s happening?” you croaked.

Your throat felt dry from the lack of use.

“You were found just outside, fainted!” she recalled.

“Did you find me?” you ask.

“Oh, it was the Tavern Keeper’s wife, the red haired woman…she was out walking in the dark to your home to see you, she said, when she heard your cries and came a runnin’. Found you right on the dirt, right out! She dragged you in here, ran, and fetched the doctor quick as she could, stayed up all night with you, she did!” she said, almost excitedly. Her eyes wide as if telling a story.

“Verity…oh, it was Verity! Mercy…am I dying…If I’m dying there’s someone…I need to…I need to speak to…” you said.

You knew the one thing you didn’t want to say had to be said to him if your time was running out.

“You’re only sick. That’s what the doctor says. But you might…I hope you won’t…” she said. Her eyes looked down and she frowned.

You reached out a hand and touched her cheek.

“Oh, mistress Mercy, I heard your prayer…and I’m so lucky to have you,” you comforted.

“I’ve prayed every hour I could…my master was with the doctor when Verity was running, so he and my mistress even prayed with me for you in this room for an hour today. I think all of our prayers worked. It was my Master who even got you to your bed the other night, but he insisted on leaving outside when you got changed to your shift, ‘cause you know, you were asleep but it still wasn’t polite, he said!”

You felt your lip bite and a small laugh escape.

“Why, Miss Y/L/N, colors coming to your cheeks, even! You’re getting healthy, I know it!” she cheered.

“How long was I asleep?” you interrupt, a little embarrassed.

“About a day.”

Your head hurt and you were dizzy. You groaned from the pain and Mercy fetched a cool cloth from a bucket. You nodded as thanks.

“Mercy…what did the doctor say about me? What do I have?” you ask.

Your memory was coming back. And you had a dreaded feeling you knew exactly what happened to you.

But…it couldn’t be, could it?

“He says you’re only sick and that’s that. He did get you to swallow some medicine and he says you need more…which…oh dear! I forgot! Now you’re awake! I have to get him! Excuse me, m’am...”

She gave a curtsy and off she went like a squirrel to a tree. Your dizziness came in and out. You found your arms, while shaky, could pull yourself up. Your stomach felt like it had a stone in it. Even the sight of your food in the corner made it turn and you felt the threat of vomit rise in you.

A little later, a man entered with Mercy trailing behind him. He was of average height, with dark hair that curled yet was brushed back. His face had hints of scruff with a pale, square head and a sunny smile.

“Hello, miss. Doctor Priestly at your service,” he greeted.

He even bobbed his head as if you were a lady. If it weren’t for your weakness, you would have bobbed your head for a curtsy as well.

“See, doctor! My prayers have worked! I did have faith enough!” Mercy cheered excitedly.

She grabbed your hand to help you get up to sitting on your bed upright.

“It seems your faith and my medicine are a powerful team, Mercy. Go find your mistress and let her know at once that Miss Y/L/N is awake. She’ll want to know how her servant is, she’s been very fretful for two days for her.”

Mercy once again scooped her red skirt into her tiny hands and ran out the door. He pulled out a vial from his bag, poured some clear liquid onto a spoon, and fed it to you. It tasted disgusting as overcooked cabbage, but you made yourself swallow it. It was the same bitter aftertaste as the drink you were fed while slightly conscious.

“Here, two days of rest and this medicine and you will be fine,” he assured you.

What happened couldn’t be true, it was too insane to be true. You shouldn’t be in this predicament at all. Or were you? There was one way to find out.

“Doctor Priestly…what’s wrong with me, what am I sick with?”

“I’ve not told a soul about your condition… for Mercy’s sake.”

“Mercy?” you asked. “What’s she have to do with it?”

“I remember when she arrived here. She was an orphan boarded from England sent here to work and make a life for herself. Poor thing had more than one master beat her senseless when she was small. I couldn’t afford her, so Castell took pity on her and placed her under his wing for her protection. He’s almost like her father in an odd way, but he’s still her employer. But that is her life, no family and only drudgery. “

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and blinked a lot, coming back to the present.

“She has a tender heart and it takes very little to vex her. I saw how fond she was of you, so I wanted to rest aside her fears. If I told Castell, he might tell her just to give her an answer. But you and your mistress at least deserve to know the truth.”

He pulled a chair from the table next to you and spoke in a low voice.

“You had the symptoms of poisoning from the belladonna plant.”

“No…but…I…I just can’t…I was poisoned,” you said, finally accepting your dreaded suspicion.

“And I also noticed...I had kept some for medical and research reasons, and the vial was gone. So, whoever took it must have targeted you. They wanted to harm you. You had a water jug that was laced with it. Luckily, you only had a little bit. If you drank a larger dose or didn’t take this medicine in time, you would have been dead.”

“Someone stole your belladonna?” you ask.

Your eyebrows furrow and you look directly at him. Your hands fold neatly at your blanket.

“Oh, I hope you forgive me, Miss Y/L/N…I should have watched it more carefully.” He begged, he turned his head down.

“It’s…alright, Dr. Priestly. I forgive you. It wasn’t your fault it was stolen” you say.

You move your hands in front to tell him to calm down and he smiles in response. He’s not entirely unfortunate looking and you feel yourself smile back.

“Have some water, you’ve been without food or drink for over a day” he suggested, getting a tin cup.

You drank it up greedily. Sighing and wiping off your mouth, you look back at him, softened.

“I would prefer to keep this low. Only your mistress and you. News of poisoning would bring fear, someone innocent might go to jail if accused falsely,” he explained.

You at once felt your stomach turn. The bile was coming back up.

“A…a jug, anything, I’m going to…” you mumbled.

He handed you a clay pot and you felt the disgusting feeling of vomit rise out of you and the repulsive smell of it. You put a hand over your mouth defensively as he put away the pot.

“You are just weak, Miss Y/L/N. Just keeping drinking water and taking the medicine. You will be a little weak, but fine,” he assured.

Not long after there was a knock on the front door and Doctor Priestly sprung up and greeted with the largest smile you had seen on him yet.

You saw the pale blue cloak of Jocelyn walk before you and fold open the hood. Her golden curls were tied back with a ribbon just loosely. Your breathing got shallower and your nostrils flared remembering the day on the ship.

Sure, I can’t let my hair down, but you can. Not a lady anymore, eh? You just proved that, you thought angrily.

“Oh, Doctor Priestly, Oh, I am so glad. Poor girl! How is she?” she asked demurely.

“She’s weak, but after one day of rest and taking this medicine, she’ll be bright and bonny as ever. I have to tell you Jocelyn…” giving a glace at you, he led her just outside the door to speak with her explaining why you were sick.

Waiting for a while, you kept squeezing your own hands. You felt your heart beating in your ears. After a few minute, you saw Jocelyn open the door again, continuing the conversation.

“Doctor Priestly, may I nurse her, myself? I wish to make amends- it was my own jug and I lost watch of it!” she offered warmly.

There was a crinkle beneath the doctor’s eyes as she spoke and he leaned a little closer.

“What a tender heart you have, I’ll leave you with her. Bring me back if there is any sign of trouble. Here is the medicine, I’ll go on and make another, farewell!” he wished, handing her the bottle.

With a slight hop in his step, he left.

Jocelyn took a few minutes to be quiet. As she walked up you pulled yourself back, defensively. She held out the medicine poured out a spoonful, offering it to you.

You hesitated, staring. She could have done something with it too. But you accepted it and led the spoon with your hand to your mouth.

After a few spoonful’s, the concerned look on her face dropped looking down on you. She looked at the window, checking, and then returned. You tried to glare up with what strength you had.

“Jocelyn. Who poisoned me?” you ask flatly. You folded your arms.

“You know what you did,” she spat out.

“No, I don’t!”

“You should have drank all of it.”

“Jocelyn, why? I have done everything for you! I have cleaned your clothes and room, fixed your gowns, made your breakfasts and even emptied your damned chamber pot! I have asked for nothing but my pay. You forced me to agree to do it in front of Lady Yeardley. And this is how you repay me? You try to kill me?” you questioned angrily.

She was quiet.

“I’ll report you to the Governor. Right. Now.” you threaten. You swing your legs over and get on the floor.

You only took two steps on weak legs when she put a hand before you, and then caught you before you could fell. But as you were crumpled, she led you back to the bed. She bent down to look you in the eye.

“It would be worthless to speak to him. Look at you and look at me. I’ve dined with him countless times. He’s going to be the groomsman at my wedding. Who is he more likely to believe? A lying, thieving, whoring maid or a lady?”

She got back up but folded her hands in front of you. Her eyes were low, her round, pale face still, and her pink lips tight.

“Jocelyn…you still haven’t answered my question. Why did you do it?” you interrogated.

“Because you’re destroying me. And you’re destroying this colony.”

“You’re the one who almost killed me! What on earth did I do?”

“Since you’re a fool, let me tell you. You’re a whore,” she accused. Her face was still but her low voice was biting.

“Do you mean…with…with your fiancée?”

There is fire in her eyes.

“Anytime I was with him, I promise you, nothing happened. He never said or did anything to me. He’s a gentleman; he keeps his distance. He is doesn’t love me, he loves you. Jocelyn be reasonable! Mercy says you’re the great beauty of the colony. How could he show any interest in anyone else with you as his intended!?” you begged.

“Your flattery means nothing to me” she cursed bitterly.

From her cloak, she pulled out your copy of Ovid’s The Metamorphoses.

“If you have not seduced him, explain this!” she accused.

“He asked and I just let him borro-“

She slammed the book into your bed and turned to the very end, where there were a few extra blank pages. Or were. Words were scribbled all over them. You jumped and your legs stung from the force of the book’s weight.

A pink primrose exactly like the ones on your window was pressed into it.

“Read it” Jocelyn demanded.

You felt your dizziness return and your stomach hurt again. You pushed it away. You were shaking your head. This had to be a dream, this had to be a dream.

“And know this, before you claim it false,” she added.

From her stays, she got out a folded page of paper which listed the business of the Governors meeting last week.

Glancing at what was written in the book and the record, it was exactly the same.

You pulled the book close to you and almost felt your hands and arms shake as you tried to keep it up, pulling to your face. You wanted to be sure every word you saw was real.

It read:

“My darling, my little nightingale, Y/N Y/L/N,

With your consent, I must take a moment to confess to you the feelings I have been suppressing for some time. Please do not be afraid of me.

I love you. I adore you with every inch of my soul. I have never known any woman quite like you. I knew you were different from anyone else from that first day of your arrival, though I wasn’t sure how. Then I knew. You were someone I could talk to. The more I looked at you, the more I couldn’t help myself. You are one of the loveliest maidens I have ever seen. When I think of you in that flower field, how ardently I wanted to kiss you that moment, with the sun shining, the flowers around you, and your sweet smile. I’ve never felt such tenderness and wanting inside me before. I admire every bit of you, my dear friend. You are the kindest, sweetest soul I have ever met. And your courage exceeds that of many men I have known. I still remember the day you spoke with Mr. Sharrow on behalf of Miss Kett and I am still in awe such an action even happened.

I make every excuse just to walk by our colonies walls just to hear you, to see you walk by, just to glance at you. The way you shone when I taught you how to write words, shone with pure joy. Your laughter and singing! Your voice haunts me, haunts my dreams, and my day and I hear it at once with both ecstasy and torment, for I know such tender words, laughter, songs and that joy of your hand’s devotion is a gift, a gift that cannot be for me, but the happiest and most fortunate of gentlemen you choose to wed. How I envy him and hate him, whoever he may be here! I am so ashamed to admit it, but it is truth.

I have given Jocelyn a promise. A promise I must keep, as being the purpose of her journey. Yet each time I think of the day we will be joined, inside I mourn so deeply. This is the reason why I delayed the wedding. I made a pitiful, unmanly excuse about business because you were always in my thoughts. I will never have the privilege of your courtship and time. I must be bound until death to another, upon an agreement of payment I have made long ago. Though I must complete my duty in humility and obedience, know that I wish every morning I awake that it was your beautiful face I saw.

Jocelyn does not deserve to have her heart broken and her future destroyed. Can you have it in your heart to pity me? To pity her, most of all. It is Jocelyn I must marry, no matter what I may feel about you How could I be so cruel to such a good, honest woman who came here for this one sole purpose?

I do not know if you even tolerate me. If you despise the air I breathe, then I swear I will never bother you again. But now, I ask you pray for me, pray for us.

But know that though such affections I possess can never be acted on, that if you are ever in dire need of assistance, I will help you. Even if you cannot have my hand, you have the protection of anything I have and my actions. If you are ever in need, or your husband, most fortunate of men, or your children even, I will find a way to help you.

For I and my heart shall always be dedicated to you. I love you so tenderly and know that you will always be my dearest and saddest love.

Written by him, who is your humblest of servants

SC”

A shaky smile appeared on your face, though your stomach kept dropping throughout reading. A small laugh, stifled, came out of you, defiantly. Disorientation washed over you and it was as if your vision blurred for a moment.

“I must confess, I’m almost impressed. There’s a power between our legs, and at least you’ve learned to use it,” Jocelyn said.

Setting the book down, almost not daring to read it again, you stared into the open for a bit, but you heard Jocelyn continuing.

“You cast a spell over him. And it’s began ever since he kept speaking with you. So, tell me, they call you the Songbird of Jamestown, yes?”

Blinking, you looked back at her, voicing a shaky “wh-what?”

She walked over and grabbed your face, pinching at the mouth. Her face got into yours and you could feel the hot breath come out of her.

“Did those musical little lips suck his cock and is that why he does everything you insist?” she hissed.

“H-H-How d-dare you speak such…such lewd things!” you retorted, jerking away, nearly slapping her hand out.

You nursed the spot on your jaw tenderly. You turned away and saw the book. While Jocelyn was distracted you hid it under your blankets.

“Jocelyn, he’s going to marry you, whatever he may think of me. Don’t you see what it’s really saying? He’s letting me go. You’ve won.” You reasoned.

“You may think so. But now he hardly listens to me. He doesn’t do anything I ask him to. No matter what I try. And it’s began since your little romp in the flowers. If you are here, you are a threat to me and my marriage.” She said.

“What are you asking him to do?” you ask.

You noticed how high your shoulders had gotten to your ears and forced them down.

She paused, folding her hands in front of her.

“You don’t understand, Y/N. I’m going to lead him to greatness, for us. For the colony. Wouldn’t you like things to change? Wouldn’t things be better if Samuel was in charge? Not Farlow or Redwick or Massenger?” she interrogated.

“What’s wrong with Yeardley? And how do you plan on getting it, though? And I…I don’t think you understand, people die playing these games. Do you want to die? Do want Samuel to die?” you ask.

“Oh, Samuel.” She prodded. “Not Master Castell anymore? That’s a little more intimate, aren’t we? Do you love him?”

You froze.

“I know you’re a terrible liar. And I know what they do to liars here when they’re caught.” She added.

She kept her close distance but remained standing. Her eyes stared right into you, though your head dipped down low and you buried your face in your hands.

“Do. You. Love. him?”

Tears stained your eyes. That feeling, burning and bubbling in the depths of you was suddenly coming out. No matter how much you tried to deny it or ignore it for the greater good, for even your own safety, it was still singing, screaming in the back. Now it was getting louder, and louder.

“I…I think I do. I…I wish he…if only he was just a farmer, not the recorder, just so I could be with him!” you confessed.

Breathing in deep, you felt a weight had been freed from you. There was a silence, heavy with what she would say next.

“Then understand you are what is holding him back. That’s what love is. It holds us back. I’m going to bring him to greatness. I’m going to make him have things beyond even his own understanding. He could be a farmer. Or he could change everything and bring those men down and set things right here.” She explained, towering over you.

“By controlling him? Making him do things he doesn’t want to? Dangerous things?” you blurted.

“That’s how men work. And this place is ruled by them. We have to control them if we’re going to survive here as women.”

“But a harmless soul as his? Control Farlow, all you would like, Massanger, or Redwick, but…Samuel? He wants nothing of treachery, why make him treacherous?”

“That’s your weakness. You’re still clinging to love, thinking that’s what’s going to save you. I was like you once. I was proven wrong. Love doesn’t save you. It destroys you. And the sooner you let it go, the better you will be. I hope you’ve figured that out. You’re leaving here.” She scolded.

“To England? The company will send me back. They need to pay back the tobacco pounds on all of us.”

She then reached in her pocket and pulled out some letters.

“You know of the communities right outside here? I’ve written to the men of Charles City. Any women who isn’t immediately bound in marriage must go there. And there are at least three men over there are curious about you to be their wife.”

Not too far for the company but far enough you thought.

You barely glanced over it. It listed names, possessions, their house, and what they planted. One name, only one name. One name that would stand out. One name to stamp out Samuel’s. But none could. None of them had the name of the one you knew you wanted.

And who knew who these men actually were like? If you were lucky, they would be loving.

But at worst, you could be bound to another Henry Sharrow. You fought the urge to vomit again.

“Tomorrow, you will gather your things. Leave this town. Pick one. Marry him. And stay there.” Jocelyn demanded.

“I won’t. I won’t do it,” you voiced.

Jocelyn walked up and hissed at you softly.

“If you don’t, you are dead.”

“You couldn’t do that.”

“I almost succeeded. I have resources, don’t think I couldn’t.”

Your breath left you and you released a small cry of fear, your limbs nearly froze.

With all the bitterness and anger you had forced silent inside your soul for weeks, you looked Jocelyn in the eye and spat out “bitch.”

It wasn’t kind. It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t dignified. It was not even mature. But it felt good.

“Never heard that one before,” she remarked sarcastically.

You turned around and, though still shaking, you got up on your feet. Jocelyn didn’t raise an eyebrow.

“Good day, Miss Y/L/N. And a blessing upon your marriage,” she finished with a smile.

You were determined not to be sent off without the last word. Now you had something. It wasn’t safe to say it, but if you were blessed to never see Jocelyn again, you might as well say it when you had the chance.

Tugging nervously on your shift you said “this isn’t the first time you’ve poisoned someone, Jocelyn.”

She froze and glared back at you, she took a few steps, threatening to charge at you like a predator.

“You little, sneaking slut!”

“And how is being a sneaking slut any better than being a liar and a murderer?” you snapped.

Jocelyn froze in her track, but continued her fiery glare into your eyes.

“Tell me, when a man makes a bet that he can take your virginity among his friends, takes it as they watch, and he wins, how much will you believe in love, then? How can you even trust men’s souls, then?” she croaked, now tears were barely going down her cheeks.

“It’s not men’s souls, Jocelyn. It’s what they’ve done. You’ve been hurt so you shut yourself off to keep yourself safe. And now that you have refused love, you’ve even refused the love that makes you care for others. All you can do is hurt others.”

You swallowed, got up from your bed, stood up quickly while you had the strength, and interrupted before Jocelyn could interject.

“You cannot love, you can’t love people or least of all yourself. That’s only because you have been betrayed. You’ve been hurt. But you could have used that pain to help others. Have you talked to Alice about what Henry did to her? Or Verity? You could have helped them. But you have let your pain make you harsh to underserving people. Good people. Samuel. Mercy, even, and she’s a child with nothing!”

You took two steps closer to her.

“But…you cannot help, truly, genuinely help. Only reward people you think you trust. That’s because all you know to do is hurt. For that, you will never know peace or contentment, and you have more than my disgust, you have my pity.”

She marches up to you and grabs you by the hair, growling into your ear “leave by tomorrow, or you’re dead.”

She then brushed any dirt or wrinkles off her dress, set her hat back up on her head, and walked out.

Alone, you collapsed on the bed. You were done with being brave. You were done with being strong. You wanted to be weak. You let yourself sob and sob.

You look barely at the letters of these suitors you have never even heard of, asking you for your soul, body, mind, possessions, and even possible children to be owned by them until death take one of you.

“The time’s gonna come fer yer freedom and maidenhead whether ya ready fer it or not!”

Then you look at Samuel’s letter in your book, you press it to your heart, and let your cries continue and continue, gingerly touching the petals of the pink primrose and even noticing the fresh bunch at your window.

So it…it wasn’t James at all! How could I be so stupid, I’m an idiot…

Could Jocelyn really kill you? How? The possibilities kept running through your head.

You had no idea how much money she brought with her but maybe she could hire someone to do it.

Or she probably already planted one of her possessions in your home. If someone noticed it, they could accuse you of stealing, go to Jocelyn, who’d give her testimony that you stole, give your truth and let it fall on deaf ears and then you would have to make the fatal walk outside the colony walls to the gallows.

She already fooled you into being poisoned. She could find a way to take and poison your food. Had she even poisoned the food you had when you weren’t looking.

And you didn’t know about how your physical strength could hold up. Jocelyn was slender and knew nothing of tasks requiring physical extremes. But that didn’t mean if she got possession of a gun or knife she wouldn’t be able to attack you.

Being at the wrong place at the wrong time could put you at risk. Perhaps she would drown you in the river if you went to do your laundry.

If she got that book and letter back, she could bring it to the court, make accusations of adultery, and get you hanged.

Finally, after a while, Christopher returned with Mercy trailing behind him.

“Mercy…how kind you are…and Christopher…”

“I asked my Master if I could make this broth for you, and he agreed. He has a kind heart, he does!” she chatted, handing you a cup.

You swallowed it gratefully, smiling at how for once your stomach did not reject it.

“He…yes, he does,” you answered. “Speaking of which…where…where is he?”

“There’s a large trial and many things he must record. He has a busy workday but sends his prayers to you. Now, take twice the dose, Miss. You will be a little weak today, but you should be fine. I insisted the church forgive your absences these next two days so you could recover. You’ll be strong by the day after tomorrow.” Doctor Priestly said.

He brought another batch of the medicine and handed it to you in a small vial with two spoons.

You swallowed the two spoonful’s and kept it down best you could.

“I saw Mistress Woodbyrg come in after a while. Even when she chided me, I thought it a blessing, the bit time I was there.” Mercy reported, folding her hands in front of her.

You only stared onto your blanket, right down.

Oh, dear Mercy, you don’t know the half of it and for your happiness I hope you never do!

“Oh, you are so lucky to already be working for her. There is never a lovelier lady! Although, she’s been quite troubled lately. Oh, she frowned so when I worked for her and it vexed me so much! But I’ve been praying every hour for her, when I could” Mercy chattered, she even folded her hands together and brought it up to her chin dreamily.

You were quiet for a moment. Mercy worshipped the ground Jocelyn walked on. She was someone perhaps the child wanted to be. But… should she have such a rosy view shattered? Jocelyn seemed to give her meaning and joy in her life. There was a fairy tale princess under her roof, no matter what that princess said or did.

“Mercy…tell Master Castell…thank you, for allowing you to make this broth and…Mercy, may I please have a bit of parchment, please? And something to write with? There’s…a quill and ink on the table.”

“How come, Miss?”

“I’ve…uhm…been practicing writing.”

“My, what a good skill! How lucky you are to be learning it, how clever you must be oh…”

There was a weight that you felt dragging you down, and the child took note.

“Why, what is it, Miss Y/L/N?”

“I…I just need to try to write. I can’t be idle even when sick…”

“Why, why yes indeed! As Psalms and Captain Smith do say, one must wake up and be industrious, it’s how we can praise the Lord himself. But…I am so glad you are well.

Doctor Priestly stood by in the corner, smiling at the sweet words said and observing quietly. Mercy handed you the quill and ink and then knelt by your bedside.

“I really am. I never had many friends. Mere few. And a lot of them died. And my master is gentle but…we can’t be friends. He gives me me earnings and that’s that. So…I’m just so thankful,” she said softly.

“I’m thankful to be your friend too, Mercy.”

She looked up at the smiling doctor, who gestured for her to come, and she left accompanied by him.

You stared at the parchment and backed it against your book. Your brain was brimming with words. Words that would have explained everything. Most of all, why. But your hand only knew how to write a few.

You wanted to see him. You wanted to get out of your bed and crawl through the muddy streets to wherever he was and collapse onto him.

But anger overtook you. It was his own letter that probably confirmed Jocelyn’s suspicions and put you in danger in the first place!

You wanted to even yell at him, to take that mud and throw it to smear his lovely face. To take that stick from that day by the river and beat him with it with all of your strength. All for the trouble this lovely letter put you through. If this was a plot and he was working with Jocelyn, then he had betrayed your trust and put you in great danger.

And if it wasn’t. Jocelyn proved it was his handwriting, after all. Or at least, it was not a forgery. He could have lied through this letter from Jocelyn’s or even someone else’s doing to get you out of your discouragement of him being too deeply involved in the intrigue.

But…you brain interrupted as you lifted the quill, hands shaking…what if it was?

If it wasn’t. If he meant every word of that letter, it meant…it meant that he really did see you. You. Humble little you. With ninety women that had just arrived, and he wanted! If nothing stood in his way, the gentlest, sweetest man in all of the colony, if not, even in all of England’s far kingdom or the world perhaps loved you.

But there was one thing in the way. And it was your life.

You wished desperately it was a letter with false intentions instead.

You dipped the quill into the ink as it sat gently on your bed and scribbled out seven words.

“Goodbye. I will miss you- Y/N Y/L/N.”

Not painless. But quick and to the point. It dried in a few minutes, the dark purple ink turning into the color of violets. The scrap was hidden in the book. You put it next to the pansy.

You barely slept that night and spent it packing or pacing.

Doctor Priestly arrived the next day with new medicine. But the doctor noticed the packed bag resting on the table.

“Are you alright, Y/N? You’ve lost so much of your color, even after the medicine” he asked.

“I’m…I’m just sad. I’m leaving. I haven’t been married yet and the company’s insisting I leave to fix that. I have a few marriages offers from Charles City. I have friends here, though. I will miss everyone,” you said.

You handed him the papers and letter from the men and the doctor nodded in understanding.

It wasn’t a lie, but some details perhaps he could not be trusted with yet.

“I’ve heard good things about you, Miss Y/L/N, our dear songbird. We will all miss you too,” he answered, giving you a last spoonful of medicine.

After he left, Mercy returned with one last cup of broth.

“I always insist a cup after will do good!” she chirruped.

“Mercy…I’m going to leave today.”

“Why?”

“To…to get married, please send this to your master.” You said, holding out the scrap.

“Shouldn’t I fetch ‘im, so you can tell him instead?”

“No! I mean…don’t trouble him when he has so much work. I just wanted to say goodbye to him, for…for helping me and Alice. He greeted me and was kind to me.” you explained quickly, though you felt yourself biting your lip.

Mercy nodded and left quietly, looking at the note with big, confused eyes. You saw a shininess that would bring on tears and she even put her hand over her mouth.

“Oh, Mercy!” you exclaimed, a sudden wave hitting you.

You ran up and hugged her.

“Oh…Miss…Miss!” she cried, letting herself sob too.

You bit back your tears and whispered to her.

“Listen to me, never let anyone treat you poorly. Don’t be like me. I’m a coward. Be brave. Fight back with all your strength and…please promise me you’ll do whatever it takes, be happy and safe…” you instructed.

Mercy blinked, in more confusion, and then hugged back.

“I…I will miss” she blubbered. She let go and gave you a sad smile and then left.

Your bags only had what was essential to travel and then some. Your books, your clothes, and your lace gloves, the only luxury the company promised you. And the only luxury it delivered. You even got bits of food, who knew how long the journey would last, the quicker you would leave, the better.

And even if Jocelyn had poisoned them when you weren’t looking, you decided it didn’t matter anyway.

You dressed plainly. Looking at your reflection in the window, you did look like you lost your color. Your cheeks had hollowed some. Your eyes had darkened underneath. It was as if you were now a ghost of whoever you were when you entered this house.

Walking outside, you took the last of the wilted primroses and put it into your apron pocket.

You walked past the people going about. Past the church, past the tavern, past James beating into a new piece of metal with a loud CLANG, and past the smelly dogs and hogs running through the street freely and housewives adorned in aprons all looking for corn in the market that could be bought today, past the muddy areas you had to hop over, past the nice red doors where men in ruffs and fine cloaks discussed power with soft voices, and towards that opening and the ocean of green before it.

As you neared the entrance, you could make out a cart just near where the graves were marked. It almost seemed as if it planted among the crop of little wooden crosses. It was led by it seemed a brown horse and another man, he was tan, short, stout, and had dark hair and a dark beard with grey streaks. He wore a straw hat and seemed to be chewing on something. He stared out into the open of the green field and the trees just beyond. But he was smiling, and his eyes were beaming like stars.

Though Jocelyn covered your leave, he did not seem the type to be a hired assassin. It was the cart. Breathing in deeply, you took a few steps to get on that cart that would take you to your new life to forget all of this.

“Miss Y/L/N…”

Your breath stopped and you paused. Continuing it, you decided you would not speak to him turned away. You turned your head and looked at him. The one voice you did not want to hear at this time. But you knew you had to. You couldn’t just leave him with just a scrap of paper, as much as you had denied it.

Blinking away any more tears that may have popped up, you turned around to face him. At least one final time before your new life awaited.

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queen-paladin · 2 years

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1-4 for your favorites asks?

OOoooooo, these are really good! I have more than one because I can't pick one unless a gun was pointed at my head.

Favorite Fiction Books- A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, The Book Theif, Johnathan Strange, and Mr. Norrell, The Wildwood Chronicles, Matilda, Most of Shakespeare's plays (Personal faves are King Lear, Romeo, and Juliet, Cymbeline, Henry IV Part 1, and Much Ado About Nothing), Alias Grace, and Hamnet. As for Non-Fiction, anything by Brene Brown, Post-Traumatic Church Syndrome, The Creation of Anne Bolyen, and John by Cynthia Lennon.

Favorite Movie- They would be Amelie, Bohemian Rhapsody, Crimson Peak, Spirited Away, Labyrinth, Top End Wedding, Pride and Prejudice, LOTS of horror movies, Disney's Alice in Wonderland and Beauty and The Beast

Favorite Shows- Downton Abbey, Stranger Things, The Great (though season two broke my heart), The Hollow Crown, All Creatures Great and Small (a big comfort show!), Parks and Recreation, and Jamestown as a guilty pleasure.

Favorite Songs- Songbird by Fleetwood Mac, As The World Caves In by Matt Maltese, Aphrodite by Honey Gentry, Apocolypse and Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby by Cigarettes After Sex, watch you sleep by Girl in Red, CVS by Winnetka Bowling League, You Oughta Know by Alainis Morisette, Killer Queen by Queen (along with a LOT of their songs as you know), and Across The Universe by The Beatles.

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floralfloyd · 4 years

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A Field of Flowers - Samuel Castell Chapter 2

Afternoon all, I just want to say thank you for reading the first part of A Field of Flowers and that it means a lot that it’s getting such great feedback. So, it’s taken me longer than expected due to power shortages and a rampage of kittens taking over my room but here’s the second part. I hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 1248 words

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

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Samuel Castell stood inside the governor’s cottage discussing company business. His voice was raspy and smooth, just how Lucille imagined it. She didn’t want to interrupt but her days in Jamestown were numbered if she couldn’t get herself a man or at least the job of a maid.

As she stood ready to knock, she felt a presence behind her.

“Ah, Mistress Smith, what could we help you with on this visit? Unless you’re snooping” Temperance Yeardley, an older woman and wife to the governor stood in front of the brunette.

Lucille stood stunned for a couple of seconds as she let her mind think over what she had just been asked, me snooping? Before turning around “Oh, not snooping Lady Yeardley, I was on my way to talk to you actually but realised that your home was busy and was about to turn back”

“Is that so? Well, what would you like to speak about?” she asked as she gripped tightly onto the leather covered bible in her hand, almost if evil would come if she was so much as to let it go.

“I over heard on the ship that you and your husband were to be looking for a maid to help with the upkeep of your home” Lucille adjusted her cloak as she fished her mind for the right words “and I’d like to offer my services. Back home in England I worked part time as a maid for a wealthy family. I still know all the tricks.”

Temperance raised an eyebrow as she listened to Lucille present her case before nodding “That’s very kind of you, Mistress Smith, I shall offer you employment until you can find yourself a husband. After all God did grace Jamestown with the presence of women to bless the men with wives and bearers of babes” she smiled softly “You may start tomorrow morning early after morning bible reading at five, you may join me for that if you so wish”

“Thank you, Lady Yeardley, I promise I won’t as so much let you down. As for the bible reading, I’d like to turn you down on that one. I do my morning prayers at sunrise, it’s the only piece of home life I can really keep around here” she gave the most sincere smile as she moved to let the governors wife access to her own home but as she stepped back she hadn’t noticed where she was putting her feet.

Lucille closed her eyes preparing for the impact she was about to have with the stick wet mud, but it never came. The only sensation she could feel was like she was floating on a cloud of cotton. Her emerald eyes opened to be met with the same piercing blues eyes they landed on at the Wharf a day prior. Her breath caught in the back of her throat again as she became a rambling mess.

“I’m so so sorry, sir, I…I... didn’t seem to be watching these clumsy feet of mine and misplaced my footing…” she rambled hopelessly as her cheeks went a soft shade of rose.

“I can assure you that it’s alright Miss, the main thing is are you alright?” Samuel asked as he gazed over the young woman in his arms as he set her upright. She was absolutely gorgeous, he thought as he let her go taking a step back.

Lucille nodded as she dusted off her skirt making sure that everything was in place, not wanting to look anymore like a fool in front of the man who simply took her breath away, no other words were needed to describe how she was feeling.

“Umm, yes, I’m alright, thank you from saving me from hitting the muck. I’m Lucille” she held her hand out for him to shake

“Samuel Castell” he took her delicate hand in his large one before placing a soft and gentle kiss on her porcelain coloured skin. “It’s no problem, I couldn’t just ignore a young lady when she was about to fall. I hope to see you around more Lucille, it was nice meeting you” His smile could make any woman swoon for miles on end, never mind poor Lucille.

From afar, Jocelyn Woodbryg watched on, deep down she truly didn’t love Samuel, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t pretend. As Samuel began to make his way back towards his own home, Jocelyn chose her time to swoop in like the saint she made out to be.

Lucille watched with a heavy heart as the gorgeous blonde woman linked her arm with the recorder and laugh at something he had said.

A week had passed since Lucille had arrived in Jamestown, the young girl had got herself a small chalet on the edge of the town, nothing to fancy or big, just the right size for a bed and some chairs.

Whilst humming the tune of a nearby songbird, her long bony fingers worked in the soap on the weekly wash by the river edge. She was the first to arrive at the spot and the last of the maids there. The girl liked to make sure everything was done perfectly for her employers.

Samuel Castell was returning from a walk along the riverbank as he spotted the figure sat at the waters edge, her humming capturing his attention. As to not startle the brunette, he decided if it was best that he kept walking.

Lucille was more observant than most had penned her out to be and had spotted the recorder out of the corner of her eye. “Are you just going to walk by without as much as a good afternoon, Master Castell?” she asked as she placed the shirt down in the wicker basket at her feet.

“I didn’t want to startle you, Mistress Smith and please, call me Samuel” he smiled as he took a seat on the riverbank beside her

“That’s very kind of you, Samuel. You may call me Lucille if you’d wish” she smiled a genuine smile as she moved to finish washing Governor Yeardley’s shirt

“How about Lucy? It’s shorter and less formal sounding” the suggestion made Lucille’s cheeks heat up, it was a simple suggestion, but no one had ever shortened her name. Nodding she agreed as she folded the cream coloured cloth into the wicker basket “So, how are you finding being a maid to the Yeardley’s?”

“I’m really enjoying it if I’m honest, I’m not one to sit round all day and do nothing with my time. It’s a routine and one that makes the bread” she said softly as she began to stand up.

The grass was still damp from the morning dew making it extremely slippy and as Lucille nattered on about how working for her employers her footing became slippery and before she knew it, she was on top of the handsome recorder. Gulping she gazed up at him red in the face as neither of them moved.

Samuel’s mind raced miles per minutes as his gaze caught those of the emerald eyed beauty inf front of him, was it fate that kept bringing them together like this? He knew it was wrong, but he began to edge closer until his nose was nuzzled against hers and just as their lips were about to meet, the two acquaintances had to quickly jump apart causing Lucille to lose her balance.

“Lucille Smith! I’ve been looking all over for that face of yours!”

@supernaturalee @queensdivas @im-an-adult-ish @what-wicked-delights

#gwilym x reader #gwil lee #gwilym lee x reader #borhap cast #jamestown #samuel castell #samuel castell x reader #17th century #novel

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faersflower · 5 years

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Walking home alone, I took a trail down through the pines

Serenaded by the song of a world I'd left behind

Songbird singing in a minor key, everything I see reminding me

It's hard to slow the steady march of time

Has it all been decided?

I worry that I never had a choice

Have we all been misguided?

#crazy world (judgement day)#jamestown revival #fanfic playlist

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rey-skywalkin-away · 4 years

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2020 in summary for me:

Just in case anyone wanted to know my best/least lists for new media I consumed in this hellyear:

Best new book: RED RISING, and the four sequel books. I randomly read a little blurb about book #1 on a tvtropes page, looked up the books, and was totally hooked.

Worst new book: Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. Holy fuck, what a terrible book! I was one of those little Hunger Games nerds in high school and while I'm not nearly as obsessed as I was 8 years ago, I was quite excited to get new material from a series I remembered with a lot of fondness. NOOOPE. An absolutely boring, shite slog. I seriously regret buying this, and I only did because the library, on top of being restricted due to Covid, was backed up on holds for about 5 months and I couldnt wait that long.

Best new movie: The White Ribbon. This one is from 2009, and I'd always wanted to watch it, but it faded from my mind because living in rural areas in the late 2000s/early 2010s meant you couldn't get your hands on foreign films for any reason. I remembered it existed in the early pandemic months and early bought it. It was worth the 11 year wait, in my mind.

Worst new movie: 365 Days. I didn't see a lot of bad films this year, and I only clicked on this one because people were talking about it. A horrid, rapey, misogynistic, disgusting film.

Best new TV series: Kingdom (on Netflix). What a great zombie show omg. It's rare to find zombie media not set in present day, and this series truly delivered.

Worst TV series: I got half an episode into Jamestown because I saw it was about to leave Amazon Prime and i was like "eh, might as well see what it is." Think Tudors, or the Borgias, or any other shite "historical" show that has at least SOME entertainment value. This had none. Bleh

I could go on and on about any of the 6 I listed and give more concrete examples, but I dont feel like it.

I'm also tagging the 3 people I actually chatted with this year @brickhawk @fluffyapplecat @thesummerstorms if they want to do their own lists or start their own tagging chain!

#2020 in review #notes on moi

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likesomekindofcheese · 5 years

Text

Songbird of Jamestown Chapter 3 (Samuel Castell x fem! Reader

Summary: The year is 1620. You have arrived at the Jamestown colony along hoping for a new life, friendship, and possibly marriage. Falling in love with the already betrothed company recorder and gaining unexpected enemies wasn’t a part of the plan, though.

A/N: Checking this, it seems my writing got somehow deleted and I was not a happy camper!!! So here it is again!!

One scene of this chapter was inspired by a scene in @bluesfortheredj‘s masterpiece A Beautiful Mistake. So all credit goes to that work and its writer! Please read their work and give them all the love and support and reblogs!!! Here we start with a very lovely, sweet scene that includes some fluffy flower picking. Enjoy everyone! But the drama is just beginning and poor Reader is in for it soon...

Content Warning: brief physical abuse. Attempts at historical accuracy.

Word Count: 3122

“Alice! Are you sure?” you asked.

She shrugged and said, “I have to. I won’t be alone. No matter what I think I…I must do it. I’ll be back home soon to you.”

Home. Already this place that was her little shelter away from her trauma was her home. Not the place she was bound to. The place you now knew the family was in debt in order to have her.

She gave you a look that everything was alright, despite its tiredness and walked off with the family. You clenched your fists and stared until she had disappeared. Just to be sure.

Off to see the lands that she would have to manage soon. Lands that would support her.

Yet at what cost?

The next few hours were quite typical. Church dulled everyone. People turned to chatter and gossip and scatter as soon as that final amen boomed the white, wooden walls. Jocelyn walked out with her nice hat and clean cloak and walked before the many men of the council. She was like a shadow behind them as they walked into the courthouse and she had vanished. Nothing different.

But what was different was Samuel approaching you.

“Miss Y/L/N, have you, by chance, seen the field yet?” he questioned.

You shook your head and gave a slight bow, though propriety inside of you demanded you keep your eyes to his polished shoes, you kept looking up. At least while he was still free, you could enjoy what you saw.

“No, Master Castell, in between chores and church I have not,” you answer politely.

“Well, I have had some of my duties relieved and I have been gifted a free afternoon. Might I accompany you there? I know it’s nearby but…you may feel a little safer.” He suggested.

He even stretched out an arm for you to hold onto.

You nodded eagerly, took his arm, and walked by his side. A few townspeople looked up in a little bit of amazement. Samuel Castell walking in public next to a young woman who was not his servant.

Especially not his fiancée.

But you tried your best to ignore such squinted looks and enjoy how the sunshine felt on your cheeks and the slight green sea of grass beyond the gate.

It was a rare day in Virginia that did not feel burning compared to England. The field outside the gate was green as could be. Samuel pointed to the east and walked next to you. Soon enough, as he promised, near the woods, there were the promised flowers. Colors filled up your eyes, more colors than you could even imagine. Far more colors than England. Yellows. Reds. Whites. The greens and browns of the trees, grass, and soil.

In a few feet of walking, you spied the flowers. A whole, long crowd of them springing proudly up to that endless blue sky. You let go of his arm and raced out. A bit of childish cheering let out of you. But how long has it been since you had seen flowers?

“This land is rich in many things, not just gold,” he affirmed, calling out.

At once, you began to sit a little in the grass, picking up what you could eagerly. It felt like grabbing for bread. You brought a few yellow blooms to your face to take in that warm, earthy scent. You even spotted a small purple flower, as fragile and tiny but proud.

“Master Castell!” you said. You turned around where he had stood close by, merely watching under the shade of some trees.

You picked up the flower and brought it to him.

“I’ve never seen purple in a flower before!” you said happily.

“It’s lovely,” he agreed with a smile that made you feel even warmer.

He took it in his hands, and you admired how long and smooth his fingers looked as he twirled the little flower around, his hands were large, befitting a very tall, broad man and he could have easily crushed it. Yet he didn’t.

He handed it back to you, pressing two of his hands between yours, feeling the coolness of his rings.

“I think Alice would love it, dearly!” he boasted.

“She would!” you look around and then at him. You had the urge to pause. A slight breeze picked up and you felt bits of your hair drift off.

It was getting too warm. You wanted to take it off, to have the back of your head feel free and light. To not put in another strand or hurry somewhere to tuck it into your bun at least.

But the words on your last day at the boat were still there. And you were in a man’s presence, too.

“What is it, Miss?” Samuel asked. He walked forward and leaned a little closer to you.

You lowered your eyes.

“Would you not like to keep a few flowers? I thought a few would light up the little house I have, but perhaps you would like some as well?”

“Well I…yes, I think I would,” Samuel answers. He blinks in surprise but delighted surprise.

You stifle a laugh at the thought of making a purple flower crown and standing on your toes to crown it on his brown head. But you settle for choosing a couple of white and yellow ones and then handing it to him. The wind picks up slightly and you feel a few more untucked strands fly out. So much for propriety.

“I thought yellow because I remember that was what you were wearing when I walked off the ship,” you say.

He smiled a little, “really?”

“Well, no other person was wearing the color! So you popped out quite a bit like these flowers!”

He looked down at the blossoms. You wondered if he would comment on how his fiancée or even his servant would love them. But he was quiet, only smiling. Sweetly as well.

“I will keep them safe, my lady.” He praised tenderly.

He looked at you, breathing a little quickly. His eyes darted around a bit.

“Miss Y/L/N…” he began.

You turned around and sat up.

“I…I mean…” he started. He looked up at you and down at the flowers, twiddling the flowers a little.

“I thought this morning I heard you with the blacksmith and before that, you were singing that ballad….

It is a pleasant melody, old, but sweet. Yet I cannot remember all of the words. Only the first bit.” He explained. He fiddled with the rings on his left hand.

“Greensleeves? Well, I can…” you say shyly.

You begin to gather some flowers as you busy your hands, trying hard not to look at Samuel and sing them, or else you know you would feel something inside you break.

“Your vows you’ve broken, like my heart

Oh, why did you so enrapture me?

Now I remain in a world apart

But my heart remains in captivity

Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight

Greensleeves was my heart of gold

And who but my lady Greensleeves

I have been ready at your hand

To grant whatever you would crave

I have both wagered life and land

Your love and good-will for to have.

Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight

Greensleeves was my heart of gold

And who but my lady Greensleeves”

When you peeked back at Samuel, he looked a little flushed himself.

“Well, I may have to write them down!” he quipped.

He looked at you for a moment, those last minutes finishing the garlands.

Your beautiful, smiling face underneath the sunlight. With the grass, the faint chirrup of birds, and the colorful flowers all around.

How your skirt bloomed around you gently, like a rose blossom among these.

And your sweet, soft humming, recalling and even repeating the lyrics of that old Tudor lament for memory. There was something inside him that refused silence.

He didn’t know when it started, perhaps when he noticed how you defended Alice and got to see the true nature of your character, one of bravery in the midst of danger, utter devotion to those close to your heart, empathy, and determination to fight for those who have been hurt in spite of what others in that position would choose.

Maybe it was your eyes in church, tired, but a little bright. Half in the earth, half in heaven. But which part of you came from which half was sometimes even unknown to him.

Perhaps it even started when you stepped off of that boat. Shy, a little hurried, clearly worn from the journey, yet still hopeful, curious, looking for a bit of good in spite of the grey, dirt, and rocks, and clutching a book in your hand. The only other person in all of Virginia interested in books. Other than him.

He wanted to admit it, for the first time to himself, out loud, what was locking him up. The reason for those sleepless nights he had. For when he was alone, those thoughts would not go away. Especially not in dreaming.

There was so much he wanted to say at that moment, yet all he could get out was about bloody Greensleeves lyrics.

“Are you done, my lady? Allow me to walk you home, Mercy might need assistance with supper…”

The next morning, when you woke up you noticed something at the window. A spy, perhaps? You leaped out of bed and ran forward.

But no, it was a small gathering of primroses!

“Alice, look!” you gasp, shaking her awake.

She hurried out, still in her nightgown and returned with the pink flowers in hand.

“Why, they’re beautiful! Are you going to make this hut a garden?” she wondered, sniffing them and looking at the other wildflowers around your house.

You shake your head. “Oh, no! Not at all! I didn’t pick them yesterday!”

There is no note, no object, no sign at all who the flowers are for. So you both are quiet until you start poking at her.

“I think it’s Silas…or James!” you joke.

“What, no!” Alice denies, though her blushing betrays her.

“Oh, Alice! You’re a coquette! Admit it!” you tease lightly.

Alice smiles a little bit, hits you lightly, and sniffs the flowers a second time. She collects a tin cup to put them in on the table. You both smile at how it is another pinch of color among even the wildflowers you had managed to decorate in the place.

The simultaneous gurgling of both your stomachs interrupted the scene.

“Is there any bread left? I’m famished and we can’t eat flowers!” Alice wonders.

She walked over to the small kitchen area. There was only enough for two slices. She looked in the pot and saw that there was only so much milk that the goat was letting out at a time for two grown women to drink.

“We will be out soon…” you fret. “Do you have any spare coin for a bit of meat for later?”

Alice shook her head. “Not much, because I’m about to be…”

A little exasperated from hunger you groan “uggh! There’s hardly anything!” You almost go over to kick the pail but you stop yourself, feeling Alice’s warm hand grab your arm so tightly you feel the bone.

You pause a bit, Alice turning pale at the reminder of who would be providing for her for the rest of her days.

“Sorry…I have a rather nasty temper sometimes…I just need to work, that’s it…” you correct.

Besides, you weren’t Alice. You didn’t have men falling at your feet with the promise of income with just one word from you.

If you wanted to have enough to live, you needed to do it yourself.

Alice chews her lip.

“Maybe…if you went around town and spoke to a few people, you might find something. Though, one never knows what will happen, Y/N!” she shrugs.

You put on your outing cloak and tuck your hair into a cap and head off into town. If you looked carefully, amid the clang of James’s iron, the polite tipping of hats, or the smell of fires being kindled, there would be a way to make some wages.

Well, to respectfully make wages. Prostitution was at least extreme and at most possibly illegal.

But as you passed the Meeting House, there you caught two faces you had not seen in public outside of the church. One was the golden head of Jocelyn, and the other was the white-capped head of Mercy. Your mouth opened a little as if to call out her name impulsively.

But you had barely taken a step further when Jocelyn reached an arm up and slapped Mercy across the face. The servant girl was so surprised the hit pushed her to the ground.

You jumped, letting out a cry in surprise the same as Mercy. Mercy looked up, red-faced and tears welling up. Her tiny hands were full of dirt.

“That’s what you get when you won’t hold your tongue!” Jocelyn hissed, her hand was still up and her fist clenched.

Samuel had just hurried out when he saw the scene. His blue eyes seemed squinted, confused, and shocked, looking between the three women. Only you went down to catch Mercy’s hand while Jocelyn laced her arm around Samuel, sighing.

You look up at Samuel, then back down to Mercy, leaning down to pull her up.

You looked back at the two, then at Mercy.

“Mercy…you should have…well…” your mouth moved faster than your brain and Mercy was still sobbing.

“I will look after her and then return, safely.” You promise the couple and then head off.

Samuel stole one last, sad look at you as if to memorize how your footsteps sound on the ground. Merely giving him a worried glance, you turn your head to Mercy.

“Oh…it’s you! Oh, you are such a good soul!” Mercy blabbered as you reached your home.

“I know your mistress well, Mercy. I slept near her on the ship. I was going to tell you that you should have known better than to do something to provoke her…but with Jocelyn, who knows what will provoke her,” you sigh.

The heavy smell of all of the flowers hits you even just outside the door. You lead her inside and decide to give her a bit of water.

“For you, Mistress Mercy,” you say.

Mercy returns it, the memory of your mistake shining in her eyes.

“My mistress was in a foul mood…well, my soon-to-be mistress. She kept telling me she wasn’t feeling well and my chatting was making her worse but…” she began to cry again into her cup.

“My tongue! My bloody tongue!” she wailed.

You begin to hush her and even hold her hand. Mercy cried, shaking, and then paused. Tears now were arriving much slower. Her chest was heaving far slower too.

“Miss Y/N, it’s been told people hear you sing as you do your chores,” she whimpered.

“Oh, really?” you reply with a blush.

“Do you know anything nice? Anything comforting, please. I haven’t worked for so long I can’t remember any.”

You begin singing one of comfort to her and she only looks at you, occasionally sipping her water.

and assure it’s alright when you hear a knock.

Arriving, it is Samuel again. You could have jumped if you weren’t so used to him surprising you.

“Is she alright?” he asked, leaning down to look you in the eye.

“A bit in shock, but yes, she is. She just needs a bit of time…” you answer. You turn your head back to see Mercy has set her cup down and jolted up to stand for her employer.

“I just wanted to say…thank you, for looking after her. Mercy is a gentle soul. She doesn’t even burn my bread without a hundred apologies after I was…shocked too.” He added.

“Is your…your wife at peace?” you ask, not resisting the bitterness.

“No, not yet. She is feeling very ill, she claims but Christopher will…”

“She should not have hit her,” you blurt.

“I agree.” He huffs.

Mercy’s eyes grow wide watching you both. She starts to make her way back down to her seat and keeps drinking her water.

You walk outside with him and close the door, better to leave the poor girl in peace for a second.

“Master Castell…” you begin and he looks at you.

Why? Why are you marrying her? You wanted to ask. Can’t you see who she really is?

“Master Castell…are you happy?” you manage to question.

There is a little pause. You both remain in the shadow of the house for a while as it stretches with the setting sun. “Almost, Y/N.”

You were a little shocked.

“Oh, I’m sorry…” he apologizes, he even steps back.

“It’s alright!” you insist, raising your hands peacefully.

“I’ll pay for it; you can call me Samuel.”

“Alright Samuel, would you like to talk to Mistress Mercy?” you offered, lightening the mood.

“I will walk her home when she is ready. I will speak with her then and Y/N…thank you. Endlessly.”

You went back to Mercy. Her face was still red and her dress dirty. You wiped off the dirt with a cloth and asked her something to distract her.

“Do you know of any work? I can sew, but I’m bad at cooking,” you list, counting skills on your fingers.

“Some gentlemen need maids for their wives and servants, I know of a few. With so many men, women are getting married every day.” Mercy reports. She sets aside her cup and curiously fingers through the flowers.

You thought of the upcoming Castell nuptials. It was probably the day after tomorrow, from the rumors you heard. As you got a cool cloth for Mercy’s cheek, you made silent plans to visit Verity’s tavern and wheedle her for as many ales as you could possibly drink that very night so you could forget…

“All it seems except my mistress…”

Your head whipped around and you nearly dropped the cloth.

“What! I mean, what do you mean?” you hiss, aware of who might be right outside the door.

“Oh, it must be one reason my mistress struck me. She doesn’t like living where she is, the bed’s too hard for her and she has to try to clean and cook like a servant, she claims.”

“Mercy, what about your mistresses’ wedding?”

“Master Castell is delaying the day of the wedding by a month!” she exclaimed.

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likesomekindofcheese · 5 years

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So, Everyone, Songbird Ch.4 is in the drafting process and will be up soon enough! I know I have a handful of people I tag: would anyone else definitely like to be tagged? Let’s just say the drama is gonna hit in this one!

#carrie speaks #songbird #songbird of jamestown #jamestown itv #jamestown miniseries #gwylim lee #gwylim lee x reader #gwylim lee x you #gwylim lee fanfic #samuel castell #sameul castell x you #samuel castell x reader #gwylim lee x fem! reader #gwylim lee x fem! y/n #samuel castell x fem! reader #fanfiction #jamestown

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likesomekindofcheese · 5 years

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god jocelyn is such a bitch, never had i felt the need to cut up a bitch than I've ever been before,,, poor castel being in the middle of her scheme

Yuuuuuuup! Even in the canon show, she has “her kind moments”, it’s open ended whether or not she’s being genuine or rewarding her allies. Plus, with Jocelyn, it’s not that she’s ambitious, she has a need for control over everything (“we have to enslave them, their minds, their souls, their balls”) to the point of manipulation and she has the bad qualities of a Slytherin, I’ll get what I want no matter what, the ends justify the means, etc. And poor Samuel, both in the fic and show, being caught in a relationship with a toxic partner. I hope that what makes her “villainous” is not her ambition, but denial of humanity. (At least in my writing). But Samuel remembers her in Oxford and made a promise to marry her and has covered the tobacco price, so he is stuck! (Or is he?? Hmm, if only there was someone else he liked...👀👀👀👀)

And it seems, when I’ve watched the show, the people around her seem oblivious to what she’s doing. Like, pretending to be sick to get the governor as Samulels groomsmen. I’m amazed no one noticed it, like:

Plus, in the show, treating Mercy, an innocent teenager, poorly made me ~angry~ like, I wanted to scoop that child in my arms and take her away.

Me @ Jocelyn 24/7:

But, yeah, I did make her be a bitch to Reader and be in a position where she could be a bitch and not be repercussed about it (especially at the end 😈). I just want to hug poor reader! But how will she react to what’s just happened to her and what will Jocelyn do next and if Samuel will find out and how he’ll react? Well, that’s for later in the fic!

#carrie speaks #jamestown #songbird of jamestown #jamestown itc #jamestown itv

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likesomekindofcheese · 4 years

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Songbird of Jamestown Ch.8 (Samuel Castell x fem! Reader)

Fandom: Jamestown ITV Series

Chapter One //Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four // Chapter Five// Chapter Six// Chapter Seven

Word Count: 7K

Warnings: attempts at accuracy that aren’t always on point, swearing, drinking, marriage, religion, a bit of bullying, angst that becomes fluff, and steamy parts but nothing explicit.

A/N: Here we are! The wedding chapter woohoo! I hope you all enjoy it!

“Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.”- Sonnet 116

“We may not be in England anymore, but have a Boleyn in our colony,” you heard him smirk.

The tavern tonight was supposed to be full of people. You shouldn’t have picked out that voice. Of the two dirty-faced men with dark beards leaning close over their beers. Yet as soon as you helped Verity finish another drinking song, you did hear it. As clear as thunder.

Some customers came by to press coins into your hands for the song or wish you luck for your upcoming nuptials. Those seemed deaf. You kept glancing back, wondering what you could even say.

“…Miss Woodbyrg’s fiancée…”

“…her maid, even! We’ll be counting the days until Y/N’s head gets lobbed off…” the shorter one hissed.

“Poor Miss Woodbyrg, one cannot understand her grief…” the taller one acknowledged with a shake of his shaggy head.

“Imagine giving someone like her up!”

“A beauty if there ever was one! And Castell tosses her aside for her former maid! Why would the madman do that?”

“Well, why do you think…one large reason why…who knows what Y/N had between her legs that carried him away…” he joked lasciviously with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Look at her, singing away for tips here like some beggar.”

No, you wanted to interrupt, Verity allowed your singing since her throat is sore. But you dared not and could only nod in silent thanks as a teenage boy pressed a gold coin into your apron pocket.

“That’s the woman Castell chose over Jocelyn. A dirty pub singer over a lady. Y/N’s probably after his money. And he just wants a whore he doesn’t have to pay.”

Bits of tears stung your eyes, you bit back your tongue. You turned away to the side to stare at a wall. Making a scene would not solve anything. They would think even worse of you.

“I thought the man was balless,” he chuckled “reading fairy stories and fawning over babes like a damn woman.”

“Maybe not! Now what’s beneath her dress is all he can think about! She must’ve brought the man out of him!” the man gossiped, gesturing towards you.

The words simmered in your brain so much you hardly noticed an old planter hobbling towards you. His beard was streaked grey and his balding head wrinkled.

“Why, that drinking song I’ve barely heard! Do ye happen to know…”

There were strong footsteps and a broad figure from behind cut in front of you.

“Do not bother the lady, sir!” he said

Nathan Bailey’s dark head cut in front of yours as he walked in front of you and you hid behind him. Samuel had paid him to help guard you at least until the wedding. It was a blessing and a curse. The new bride replacing an old one and needing a soldier accompanying her everywhere probably raised a few eyebrows, you wondered. But he did his job, never asked why, and was a decent young man.

“Oh! I meant nothin’ wrong! I was just moved!” the old man pleaded.

“I was just lost in thought, Nathan! He’s been perfectly respectful!” you cut in.

He turned to you with a huff.

“Alright, but if I see you or any man getting handsy with her, you’ll have ‘em chopped up!” he spat.

You mouthed a thank you to Nathan. He returned to sit by you, nursing his water but always hawk-eyed. Processing what you overheard, the insults piercing your insides, you hardly noticed Verity walking up to you.

“Why, Y/N--looks like you made enough coin to buy France! How about some…what…what is it?”

Her cheerful, freckled face darkened at you looking down at the floor.

“I…I’m just…I heard some…I can’t tell you. Not now…” you said, glancing back at the soldier.

The tavern had plenty of men. And even if it was empty, Nathan was there. You were hardly alone even when you had to use a chamber pot or squat in the woods to relieve yourself. Not when you worked. Especially not when you ate. As badly as you wished to confide in Verity…the soldier could overhear something.

“Oh, Y/N, don’t cry…” she comforted, using a spare cloth to wipe your face.

“Just…some people said…bad…bad things…” you managed to blubber out. You wished you could be strong, but it hurt.

She placed her hands on her hips.

“Oh, pah! Damn them all. You’re a good person, making money honestly, and you said you’re about to be married in two days! Who’s the man?”

“You don’t know?” you gasped.

“Is he decent? If not, I’ll…”

“Well-you…you haven’t heard…anything?” you asked.

“No, not even from you…and there’s been too many weddings here I can hardly keep track!” she said with a shrug.

It was not a secret so why hide it?

Verity stood next to the soldier. Her husband was playing cards excitedly with a large group opposite away.

“Do you know the recorder? He made me an offer of marriage and I accepted.”

“Ha! I knew-you’re far too pretty and far too sweet for any decent man here to turn his head away! But wasn’t he…he was…”?

“He was previously betrothed to… someone else. They decided to end things. Her money was paid already, so there was no debt. So, he asked me to marry him…” you said flatly. And technically, that was the truth.

She nodded in understanding. Perhaps even more than even you could say. Perhaps it was a fading in her eye. But she understood.

“Let me walk you home, dear, at least….” She said, looping her am around yours. “I ain’t scared of the bloody dark, I can walk back here backward without fear. But I can’t have a bride fall on her face she has to keep pretty for the wedding.”

The soldier raised his eyebrow and looked at you.

“That…that would be nice…” you answered.

The next morning, you fought not to nod your head off with Lady Yeardley. Sitting on her table reading as she listened was not too reviving an activity for the morning. You completed a reading of the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians. She picked that chapter and had you read aloud the fourth through the eighth verses. Looking up, you thought she would ask you a question for discussion. But it wasn’t a question, it was a phrase.

“Well, speaking of love- my dear...” she said kindly.

A smile broke on your lips. She took the brown bible from your hands.

“Today…today’s my wedding day, ” you finished despite yourself. You could hardly believe the words coming out of your lips.

She then took your palms and guided you to stand up with her.

“I…I’m so nervous, Lady Yeardley!” you confessed.

Was this even the right thing? You felt wrong. Perhaps not the altar was waiting at that church but the guilty nose of adultery. But you could not get the nasty comments of those men last night out of your head. What if they were right?

“I’ve already been married twice and even then I was always nervous at my wedding…” she recalled, taking the bible from your hands. And child! I know you’re afraid but…Castell is a good man, a kind man, you know that?”

You nodded.

“Lady Yeardley…you do not think…you do not think I’m a wicked, bad person, am I?”

“Why, no, not at all…”

“I always feel like I am…I feel like I am doing something wrong…”

“You consented to something sacred, Y/N, how could that ever be wrong?”

Now was the time.

“And I came here wanting a husband, a lord who could provide for me, take care of me. Someone who could protect me the way God protects us. And in turn, I would give him my respect and my…my obedience…” you added hesitantly.

Her eyes beamed. Even if it wasn’t entirely true, it wasn’t entirely false. But most of all, it was everything you knew she would want you to say.

Two can play at that game, Woodbyrg.

“Well, of course, my dear! And you’ve been blessed with the opportunity-there is nothing wrong with that! Quite the opposite in fact!” she cried.

You saw Nathan in the corner, ever diligent. He checked his fingernails for dirt, more interested in those than some silly female chatter.

“Perhaps…we can pray today…since I’m nervous…” you suggested. Now that was entirely true.

“Yes…”

Both of you knelt to the ground. Lady Yeardley asked for a blessing for you and Samuel, as well as a note of thanks for both of you being here in the colony together. It was genuinely sweet of her. Your eyes were closed, but you smiled again.

As soon as an amen was voiced, you got up. It was the morning already. But one other matter was pressing on you too much

Saying your goodbyes just outside, you turned to Nathan and ordered “please go with me to Samuel’s house, now.”

He trotted behind as you picked up your skirt and hurried there. He was puffing to keep up with your sudden speed.

“But- Miss! Miss! Istn’t it-you shouldn’t!” he huffed out.

Knocing eagerly on the door of the short house, you spoke through.

“It’s me! It’s Y/N!”

You heard a slight gasp and a panicked shuffling of feet and closing of doors. Mercy cracked the door, her lily white face face barely sticking out.

“Why Miss Y/L/N! Why are you here? Before it’s time?” she asked chipperly.

“Can…can I speak to him?” you asked.

“Today’s the morning of the wedding! You’ve got a dress and everything to get ready!” she cried

“Mercy, please! I just wish to speak to him! A little!” you begged.

“But miss! It’s bad luck for you to see each other before the wedding! You don’t want that, do you!”

“I don’t need to see him…just speak with him…” you reasoned.

She blinked her eyes, and then turned around. You saw Christopher peak his head in the space too out of curiosity.

“Mercy…could you cover my eyes and Christopher…cover his…that way we can speak?” you asked.

They looked at each other then nodded. Mercy walked you inside and then sat you down. She placed her pale hands from her sides oer yours until all was black. You heard a few footsteps.

“Y/N…what is the matter, darling? Is everything alright?” you heard Samuel ask. Thought the slight laugh in his voice was undeniable. “I haven’t put the check in yet…so you’ll have to wait a little while.”

“Samuel, if I am to do this, I have to know something…what am I to you?”

“Why, why such doubts?”

“There has been…been talk on my character…” you blurted.

“Who has been speaking? I’ll deal with them if need be!”

“No! I was worried if your intentions were…if they’re honest…because they said that…I must have been some, some conquest to you. Am I? Please be honest!”

“Oh, Y/N, I would fight those men if I could but…sweetheart, if I saw you as a conquest, would I consider marrying you? Would I consider using my own tobacco for you if I planned on abandoning you after?”

“…no, you wouldn’t…”

“You’re no prize. Y/N. You’re my light, my friend, my joy, my beloved-you know me better than anyone and you care for me more than anyone I’ve ever met. And I know if I am at that church and I don’t see you walk up to me later today… I don’t know what I’ll even think. And now I feel scared you…you won’t.”

You felt yourself sniffle “Oh Samuel, I’m so sorry! I was just hurt by gossip-can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive…you were hurt and unsure. And there’s been many a poor maid beguiled in the past. You didn’t want to end up becoming one.”

“I wish I could embrace you now.” You said, not caring who was there to hear it.

“We’ll have time for that after. There’s a check I need to give to the governor first…and I have to be at the church after, would you like to join me?” You could hear the smile in his voice

“More than anything else in the world…I will see you later.”

“I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

Mercy pulled your arm up and turned you around while your eyes were still closed. She walked you outside and closed the door. She trotted after you, but saw that the emotion welled up in you had let out. You let out a few tears and covered your hand with your mouth.

“Miss, there’s already a lot to do for today- and there’s something I…Why, miss? What is it? Please don’t cry!”

She took a handkerchief from her pocket, you noticed it was white with little strawberries sewn into the middle, You patted your eyes dry. Nathan stood by, quiet and watchful.

“Master Castell will not want you to see you so upset! Especially not today of all days!”

“I…I don’t think I’m upset…not anymore. I’m crying because…I’m happy. I’m happy that I can be sure he…he cares about me.”

“What have people been saying, miss?”

“I…I’ll tell you later. I just have something to ask of you…what is it you were talking about?”

She took your arm, pulling you excitedly to the front of your house. Nathan stayed outside, always keeping a safe, polite distance but his pistol ever by his side.

As you walked inside, you were surprised to see Alice there with pink flowers in her hands.

“Oh, Alice! Th-thank you!” you cheered, accepting the plants.

“I’ve picked them this morning, so they were fresh…” she added proudly.

“This is a precious gift, thank you!”

“Well, I have a gift…but it is not this one…” she teased, her cheeks grew rosier from the happiness shining from her beautiful face.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

She smiled mischievously, “I know it’s not like me to take things without asking…but you did so much for me, when we went on the ship and…and after and with everything…I had to thank you…so I asked for Mercy’s help. I’ve kept the key you gave me.”

“And right glad I did, miss-and it’s most beautiful!” Mercy cut in.

“What is?” you asked.

She stepped aside and gestured to your bed.

When you looked on it, there was your dress. It was your nicest dress. When you packed it, you knew that if, no, when you were married at the colony you would wear it.

But it was different. There were decorative little flowers sewn into the skirt. A few tears and patches were fixed and smoothed out. There was a beautiful, shining material added to the skirt and bits of gold decorations that shone in the light. It did not look like just merely a nice dress for a Sunday church service. It looked like a gown a queen in a fairy tale might wear.

Covering a slight gasp, you embraced the two of them with another hundred thanks for their work.

Mercy tied up your stays and helped you put on a few more petticoats. Alice held it gently open for you to walk in. Once it was slipped over your body and buttoned, you noticed the skirt felt wider, as if you looked like you were floating. You slipped two lace gloves, the only luxury the company gave each woman aboard, Mercy nudged your arm.

“Oh! Please! Please let me do your hair! I’m so good with hair and I’ve had practice!” she begged with wide eyes.

“Why…sure…you can, Mercy! I’m sure you do wonders!” you agreed, settling into the chair.

It had been long since England since any changes were made to your hair. Since first boarding the boat it had grown out some. Mercy was gentle as she tucked in strands, put pins in, and did her best to brush it through and present your hair in a way that was beautiful.

“And these!” she cheered, pulling a few flowers from her pockets and tucking them into the crown of your head securely.

Looking at your reflection in the window, they looked like little jewels. Alice folded her arms and admired it quietly.

“One more right here…I do hope you are not tender-headed, miss….”

She fixed it in a way that flattered your face yet felt soft, free, and romantic. Alice’s eyes went bright as you turned to face her.

“Oh…oh heavens…you look beautiful, Y/N…” Alice said.

“I don’t know if the whole world itself had such a bride!” Mercy declared, folding her arms behind her.

You were on the verge of your next hug when there was a knock on the door. Christopher walked in.

“Ladies…the check has been delivered. In a few minutes, he’ll be ready at the church.” He reminded.

“Yes, but get you gone! You have to be there too!” Alice teased, shooing him away. She waved goodbyre as she left.

“I’ll see you after, Y/N…”

Your heart began to beat hard against your ribs. The time was approaching.

“Mercy…Mercy…thank you- you made this all happen…not to mention all of that cooking!” you recalled.

“I’m only glad you could assist me!” she said.

“I couldn’t let you do all of that by yourself!”

She smiled, sniffing up a few tears herself.

Outside, you heard up a few fiddles and instruments playing in the distance. You knew they always did at weddings. And here they were, almost like an approaching army but not bringing war but bringing joy and expecting not a battle, but the approach of a bride.

“You’re most welcome…Miss…Mistress Y/N…I bet the Master might swoon at the sight of you…”

“I’m feeling dizzy myself…” you confessed.

Taking a deep breath, sudden fears clenched inside your stomach, images and bitter memories flashing in your mind. This was all too perfect. Any minute, something horrible might happen. Something would go wrong.

“Oh miss! Don’t be so troubled! Today is going to be the most heavenly day!” she cheered.

You nodded, returning the strawberry handkerchief to her.

“Yes I will…I’ll try to forget everything…I’m just…nervous. I almost feel like I’m going to die once I step inside that church…” you confided.

“Why, you won’t die! But the master might die of unhappiness if you don’t! You can clutch my hand as we walk…that way you know that today is today!”

She handed you the pink flowers from Alice.

“And I might die of unhappiness if I don’t make myself go too…” you reasoned.

Shaking it aside, trying to slow your breathing, you both walked out. You treaded through a bit of dirt, but you didn’t mind. You kept your eyes forward. There was plenty of a crowd watching. Even if they were running errands about town, they watched. Your gown contrasting with the many drabber colors of ordinary day clothes as if you were a large butterfly. Some ladies even curtsied, and men took off their hats in reverence.

Finally, you saw the church. And a few figures outside the door.

Samuel was there, so was Christopher by his side, patting his back in brotherly congratulations. You felt as if your breathing would stop at the sight of Samuel. He looked incredibly dashing, his cape just over his shoulder, and never more like a prince than today.

When you walked up to the entrance, Mercy slipped out of your arm to go back into the crowd. You took a few soft steps to be by his side.

“You look beautiful, Y/N,” he said quietly into your ear as the doors opened.

“Thank you…you as well…”

A few witnesses, Christopher and the Yeardley couple, walked in as everyone else waited outside. Reverend Whitacker stood at the altar. The church had been decorated with a few extra flowers than normal. But oblivious to any unsanctimonious joy, he stared at you both. He was a sour faced man with long gray hair and beady eyes, analyzing you both. And his solemn frown seemed a bit serious for a wedding. Had he heard the rumors in town concerning you? And believed them? You wanted to freeze. You kept walking up and reached the altar.

Whitaker began to read the first rites. Looking down, once your other hand let go of the flowers, you noticed it was shaking. This was all so happy. Too happy almost. But here you were, about to be married to the sweetest, dearest, best of men. You had braved separation from your family, a voyage on a ship, hard work, faced drudgery, heartbreak, and came close to death. It was all overwhelming, and the words and first prayers seemed numb to your ears. You found you were smiling a little, but you wanted to cry again.

You felt Samuel turn his head to see you. His eyes were a little bright and his mouth closed as if trying to keep himself from speaking or anything lest he should cry too. You felt his hand come close and take yours. You accepted it. He felt less tense, as did you.

Samuel leaned forward after a prayer to him.

“If you would mind, minister…I asked you about a passage from the book of Ruth earlier…can it please be read here for the ceremony?” he asked.

“It’s not normal to…”

“Pease, just for this ceremony, I think it would be appropriate for today…” Samuel reasoned.

“If it’s for this ceremony, I will…” He nodded soberly, turning his head down to the bible and flipping the pages.

You turned to face Samuel. As the priest read, you could see him lightly mouthing the words to you. As if he was genuinely saying them to you.

“Entreat me not to leave thee or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people will be my people, and thy God my God.”

A stray tear escaped you. But your smile widened.

Finally, you made vows to love and honor each other. Your voice became stronger with each promise “from this day, until death do us part.”

After a bit of communion with wine and bread, a final prayer was said. You began to breathe in a little deeper. You felt his hands were shaking as well. Both of you let out a deep breath as if you both were holding it in throughout.

“I now pronounce you, man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Samuel leaned forward and kissed you so quickly and deeply you almost got dizzy. Your hands reached up and froze, and then wrapped around, deepening it.

It’s…it’s done! It’s happened! I never knew it would happen. This day I never thought would ever come.

Once you walked out, almost in a trance, the crowds of people were outside. You wondered if they would jeer or throw mud at you for a second.

They applauded. Women in pretty dresses and their hair done in braided buns tossed flower petals from their baskets. Samuel took your hand and raised it up and men cheered for him. Alice even walked up and gave you a large hug.

“Congratulations, Mistress Castell,” she said.

More people, strangers even gave their good wishes. Nearby there was a small band of musicians playing fiddles, drums, flutes, fifes, and you gazed at them, smiling at the joy of the music and all that it brought you.

You felt Samuel gently put a hand on your shoulder as you listened, and then turned around and kissed you again, and you felt yourself smile into it.

“I never knew I could be this happy…” you confessed.

“Neither I…but I love you, my sweeting,” he said cupping your face.

You leaned into it, kissing part of the palm of his hand and grinning. A few flower petals went over you in a flurry and some got into his brown hair.

“You didn’t tell me you would wear flowers today!” you joked, following the wedding party as everyone began to walk.

“I guess I wished to match you!” he replied, he gently took a hand to touch the little flowers in your hair that was Mercy’s touch. In turn, you brushed a few petals off his shoulder and placed them on the top of his head teasingly.

Everyone went over to the tavern. Tables set aside; everyone went quiet once each person received a glass of ale. Governor Yeardley himself handed you and your new husband two each.

“Everyone!” he barked. The party stilled.

He beamed at you two. Glasses with ale were passed around to as many as who could get one.

“Castell is a good man, a man without whom our colony would be lost and dysfunctional. Every day, every event we see him scribbling away in the corner, making sure our history is secure. Y/N is an honest, God-fearing woman. Together are the ideal, perfect couple for our colony.”

“To the health of the Castells and of Virginia!” he declared, drinking deep. The rest of you followed suit.

Mercy and a few of the women began to scramble in and out of the room carrying plates of food. Music picked up as everyone began to feast on the bounty saved for today. You enjoyed eating with Samuel publicly without a sense of shame.

“That verse was beautiful, thank you…Whitaker isn’t always a friendly man…” you said.

He nodded and beamed, “I’ve talked with him a bit before…and I thought with the conversation we had earlier…it felt right to have it in. It’s from the Bible after all.”

People walked up to congratulate the two of you constantly. If you happened to be chewing on bread as someone babbled away, Samuel put a protective hand over you and thanked them for your sake so you could eat your food. Christopher was arriving as Samuel got up from his seat and embraced him happily, the two of them talking deeply with large smiles.

The same musicians began to play some tender ballads. You both enjoyed biting into your wedding cakes, the ones Mercy handed out, made with honey into it and frosted with powdered sugar. Samuel brought your hand to his lips and kissed it.

“I’d like to speak with Farlow and the governor, I’ll be back…”

“I’d like to speak to the Sharrows, I’ll be back as well…” you said, both of you getting up from your chairs.

Once you had wandered, talking with the Sharrows, and a few more people here and there, you found yourself backing into a corner. It seemed as if almost all of the bloody colony had arrived and the air was stuffy with the crowd. It was fading to be the hours of dancing and people began to step away to form a dance floor in a messy oval in the wooden room. Silently, you felt yourself walk backwards. You felt the cool air of evening by your cheek as you got close to the door.

“Congratulations on your marriage…” a voice as low and smooth as honey spoke to you.

“Why th…”

Head turning, your heart stopped at the sight of her.

“Yes. Thank you.” You said to Jocelyn.

Your feet were stuck in place, and a word kept repeating in your head, ‘no no no no, no, no….’ As hard as you tried to plaster a smile on your face, your food began to swirl in your stomach.

“May I ask, what is Samuel doing tomorrow?” she questioned matter-of-factly. “Who is he speaking with?”

Her eyes looked down at your dress in surprise at the work and quality. For once, it was clear from your clothes that you were no longer below her station.

“He’s going to just do his normal work of recording Assembly business. And that’s it. Why should that matter to you?” you said.

“It should. If you do not know what is happening in here, then you’re truly a dull woman. You’ve been married for an hour, you should know these things.”

You shrugged.

“I don’t care to know them.”

“That’s your folly. Give him a smile and be sweet, that’s all you have to do to get a man’s attention…it seemed that and spreading your legs to him worked in your favor, after all. Now you can use it to be useful.” She added with a glance in his direction.

“I have not spread my legs once to him!” you blurted quietly, glancing to make sure no one overheard. You had had enough.

“That’s what everyone thinks now. You’ll have to-might as well be practical with it. But perhaps…you aren’t that good in bed. Well, when a wife can’t satisfy her husband…you know what they say happens, it’s the nature of men…” she said with a wicked smile.

A hundred curses were caught in your throat.

“If that’s all you have to say then I do not need my time wasted, there’s guests I’d like to talk to before the day is over,” You replied a little icily.

There was only so much you could do or say with people surrounding you.

“If you are going to blindly let Farlow, Redwick, and Yeardley destroy everything, your time is being wasted,” Jocelyn said.

She adjusted the hat on top of her head from tipping too far off.

“They aren’t much! And this isn’t a day for politics…it’s a day for feasting and my food is getting cold,” you dismissed, starting to walk away.

She swerved in front of you.

“It’s also about to be a wedding night and if you don’t please him tonight with your pathetic body...”

“Thank you for your kind sentiments,” you interrupted sarcastically. “Now I must leave, farewell.”

As you turned away, deciding it was best to be aggressive, you felt her grip your arm, pulling you in close with an immense strength that you were surprised Jocelyn had in her slender arms. Your stomach dropped and you bit back the urge to yell. Perhaps she was provoking you on purpose. Especially in public on your wedding day.

“I haven’t forgotten. This will not make you any safer. Samuel gave the company the money so you could be his slut. Now no one cares what happens. you’re a dead bitch walking,” she hissed lowly so that only you could hear.

Fear gripped you. Your face dipped down, feeling warm. You could have sworn a head or two turned your way out of the peripheral of your eye.

You released a false laugh, your courage growing, and walked away from her.

“Miss Woodbyrg, what a funny joke!”

She looked stiff as a bust. Her soft, plump lips were growing tight.

“I mean it,” she voiced.

Biting away a frown, you heard the fiddles pick up a quick tune.

“You must excuse me,” you said in an official voice as you could muster. “I’d like to have a dance with my husband.”

Fleeing as far from her as you could, you joined your husbands side on the other half of the room.

Seeing your face, his own turned dark.

“Darling, what is it?” he asked, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You shook your head, feeling one flower fall off a strand of your hair.

“It’s…it’s just I’m…I’m worried…” you confessed,

“Can you discuss this now?”

“Not with everyone around us…”

“It will be alright but…would you like to dance-would it make you feel better?”

He gave you his open hand. You placed your own hand, blanketed by your lace gloves, in it.

“Y-yes,” you agreed.

You got into lines and danced with the others finding him surprisingly talented. They were simple country dances that everyone knew so as many people could attend the wedding as possible. But you smiled with the movements, the switching of arms and touching of hands as you walked with him in a circle, skirts and the odd cloak floating like a bird’s wing. How couples could line up and run to the ends then run through the lines of people and still be together. Even if there was a mistake or a stepped toe, people smile and chuckled it off. Any worries were replaced with your muscles getting sore from the quick movement.

As the song ended, instead of a last gentlemanly bow as was tradition, you felt Samuel walk to you and place his arms around your body. In an instant, he lifted you up and you started laughing, placing your arms around his shoulders for security as he twirled you around, your skirt billowing. The others smiled at the sight.

“Today, I am the happiest of all men!” he chirruped to them, giving you a sloppy kiss on your cheek as you returned his embrace. It was comforting, enveloping even.

Though you felt yourself sight a little once he let go.

There were so many dances, you weren’t aware your feet were hurting. Or that the sun long past dipped over the horizon.

Mercy picked up her apron and ran to you. In one hand she held a large cup of ale.

“Oh, Miss…. Mistress! No- Mistress Y/L/N! No, not that! Mistress Castell!” she corrected herself.

"It's alright Mercy, I'm new to it myself!" She blinked away tears, rubbing it off with her eyes. Her chest huffed with crying.

"I'm so happy today! So happy! I'm so happy for both of you! How he smiled! I thought he would burst when we walked up to him! I remember how you comforted me-I was the first person you even spoke to here. But now…now you're my mistress after you've been my friend, and my last mistress…she…she’s so… and….and oh! I feel so much!" she cried, letting out pent up tears.

"Have peace Mercy! It's normal to cry! Everything's changing, but for the better this time! Just dance and enjoy yourself!" you cheered.

Returning the strawberry handkerchief, it was your turn to wipe off her sniffling face.

"I have to clean up all the…"

"No, you don't! Just enjoy the party!" you insisted.

"But its ending! See! Everyone's walking out and…you have to…to go home and I have to pick up the mess!" she refused.

Part of you jumped, already with a faint jittery shiver running down you.

"Let's just…finish your drink, let's enjoy today while it lasts and not worry," you suggested.

She drank half of the ale in a large gulp.

"But…you might need some water, too," you added.

People filtered out with bright eyes from dancing and farewells on their lips.

Samuel walked up to you and linked his arm around yours. Suddenly aware of how close he felt, your breathing quickened. You felt flushed from all the people, excitement, and dancing.

He wished any slightly drunk guest's good night as you finally walked outside into the night. It felt crisp compared to the cramped dancing quarters and you shivered a little. Clutching his arm, you felt yourself become weak at the sight of what was now your door.

"Welcome home, Mistress Castell," he said as he opened it. "Can I carry you in? It's bad luck if you trip when you walk inside."

"Yes, you may."

He scooped you into his arms and carried you past the main room. Looking around, you saw more flowers were on the tables, chest, and desk than what was normal, into your shared room. You could have almost collapsed from the nerves and excitement.

The bed had been decorated with a few spare ribbons tied into bows. Just like people did for weddings back home. You even noticed that there were pink primroses on the chest next to the bed.

As he let you down, both of you stood near each other. His face looked as flushed as your and he placed his hands together in what seemed to be…timidity it looked.

"Have you…have you eaten well? People kept talking to us, I hope you aren't hungry from all of that," he asked.

"I'm stuffed, I can't take another bite…it was all good, though," you said, attempting to break the awkwardness.

"Have you had some water?"

"Yes."

"I have…I have a little bit of wine I've been saving. I thought we could open it to…to celebrate…" he offered.

"Yes, I would like that," you replied.

He hurried out, returning with the bottle and two green glasses. You sat on the edge of the bed and watched as he poured you both a glass. Sitting by your side, you clinked your glasses together in a toast, having your first sip.

"Your house looks wonderful with the flowers" you complimented.

"I did it for you. Well, Mercy did too. We both picked them. She laughed at me picking them."

"You've picked plenty of flowers before..." you gestured to the primroses.

"I thought you would like that touch. Even then I wanted somehow to show you how much I adore you…"

Leaning forward, though wine was still on your breath, you took his hand and kissed it, leaving a small mark on it.

"I hope every day I can show how much I adore you as well…" you said.

He gave you another kiss, trailing over from your mouth to the crook of your neck. You gasped at the feeling. Your hands naturally went to hold onto his arms, but you felt his hands wander to the buttons on the back of your dress, teasing away at them much to your mixed nerves and thrill. But then as he pressed another kiss on a certain spot on your neck you had to let out a laugh.

"Mmph, what is it, Y/N?" he asked quietly.

You replied, "your beard tickles!"

Both of you laughed a little from the released tension.

"It's been itching me since morning," he confessed.

"I can't take it off, but I can help you with your cloak, can I?" you offered.

Sitting so you could reach it, you unhooked it and set it away.

He undid a few buttons of his doublet then paused.

"And let me help you…first with your hair…" he said.

Nodding, you sat and felt his hands touch it, letting strands free. He took away the flowers, pins, the turns, and tucks. You realized he never saw you with your hair down…and felt the last part fall free. You looked at him, with your hair freely released and everything set aside. His eyes were sweet. He gently took a strand.

"You'll have to get used to it being down all the time, now…" you commented.

"I won't mind at all…would you like to change out of your clothes?" he asked.

"Yes, I think it's time I did."

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you." You had more to remove than he did.

His hand went to the back of your dress and you felt him unbutton it. Slowly, as if he was touching a piece of glass, he removed the dress, then helped you out of your petticoats, and slowly undid your stays, figuring out how to loosen them. The cups of wine were left on the chest, almost entirely drunk. You felt yourself feel warmer with each bit of skin that was slowly being revealed to him. Finally, you felt it loose enough to be taken over your head.

He looked down as you stood before him in your shift, and only your shift. His eyes softened.

"I…I know what you expect of me tonight…" you confessed, jumping right to it.

"I…I…uh, yes. I…I don't expect…expect anything…" he said, his ears going pink.

"Have you…do you have any diseases? You can be honest with me," you pleaded.

"No, I don't," he answered, shaking his head.

He began to undo the buttons of his doublet and removed it, in his white shirt.

"Have you been with anyone?" you asked, placing your hands in your lap.

He froze. His blush increased to his whole face.

"Twice. You will be ashamed of me…"

"You can tell me. Was it anyone here?" you asked.

"No. I was of age and wanted to prove to my brothers that I was a real man. I decided to try a prostitute in Oxford…I got too attached. I saved up to see her second time. I wrote her a few love letters and tried to visit her, and she laughed me away after…I was young and foolish," he recalled.

"You just didn't know…" you commented thoughtfully.

He removed his shoes, stockings, and pants. Now he was also in his shift as you were.

"And you? I know they all boast of the purity of the maids to make wives…but we're alone now, Y/N. You can tell me. Have you been with anyone?" Samuel asked in turn.

You looked him in the eyes, your beloved, and told him honestly about what experience or lack of experience you have had. He was nonjudgmental and nodded in understanding. Jocelyn's words from earlier flashed in your mind.

"I just don't want to…to... to displease you," you said, looking down at your feet.

"You're my wife now, I made vows before God to protect and cherish you. I don't care about being pleased. I just want to tell you that you'll always be safe with me. And you shouldn't be forced to anything. We don't have to do anything tonight." He assured you.

He felt a slight rush of excitement as he went up to kiss you again, feeling butterflies in your body as he did. But you felt an aching further below. You pressed your lips further, tasting the wine. You began to lay down on the bed, feeling it shift with your new weight on it.

He turned his head up and asked "would you…would you like to make love tonight? If you don't want to, I…"

"Yes!" you cried.

"Yes?…are you…"

"It's our wedding night! And…I want you too much…" you replied bluntly, looking in his eyes. Perhaps it wasn't ladylike to admit it. He didn't seem to care. And it was the truth.

You took his hands and led them to your sides. He laid you down softly on top of you, but not his whole weight. You could even feel how badly he wanted you from under his shift.

"Well, if my wife insists, I'll obey…" he smirked.

Letting out another little laugh, you began to kiss him. Your hands began to touch him boldly, you felt his body from the shift-his back, his biceps, his waist, and you felt one of his hands get to your hair. You pressed each other's forehead against each other breathing in deep with the cold rush of each other's breath. Courage made you push him a little bit away. You placed your hands over the tie on the front of your shift that held it together, the last thing hiding your "pathetic" body. You unhooked the front of your shift. His pupils went large once you removed it over your shoulders and let it fall away.

He smiled at you, "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Y/N…God, you make my head spin."

As you laid back on the bed with a grin, your heart beating against your ribs so hard that you could hear it through your eardrums, you looked up at him you laid down and he placed one hand on the collar of his shift and joined you.

"Tell me you love me," you voiced nervously.

He took it off and laid on you, cupping your face again.

"I love you…that's everything I can think of right now. I'd say some pretty verses I'd say to you now but…at the sight of you naked I forgot it entirely…"

"I appreciate the thought, my darling," you commented with a smile.

It was a night that was tender. Every physical urge you both suppressed around each other was released in a wave inside of you. Pleasure flooded every inch of you. You forgot the men at the tavern. You forgot the tears from earlier. You even forgot the woman you wanted to forget about most of all. You only knew his name. You cried out his name as a prayer many times that night. And he prayed yours.

Now completely, husband and wife, you both fell asleep in a tangle of each other's arms.

Taglist: @bluesfortheredj (sempai) @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @theworksgaga @itscale @theoneandonlyeclecticepileptic @queenlover05 @rubystarflight @themficsilike @namelesslosers @itsametaphorgwil @grigorlee@isitstraightvodka @rhapsodyrecs @cxllianmurphy @princealfie

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likesomekindofcheese · 4 years

Text

Songbird of Jamestown Chapter Seven (Samuel Castell x fem! Reader)

Chapter One// Chapter Two // Chapter Three// Chapter Four// Chapter Five/ Chapter Six

Word Count: 5K

Summary: You arrived to the colony of Jamestown hoping for a better life than your previous one. Your own talents and friendships gain you allies...and enemies. But falling in love with the recorder has landed you in danger from his scheming intended. You love him but...what will you risk?

A/N: It took forever but here it is! Enjoy!

Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated!!

Warnings: None, other than a touch of angst and mentions of smoking and drinking, but plenty of fluff! Enjoy!

A long night of thinking always calls for a pipe.

Pulling out his long pipe, Samuel took out a spare piece of paper and began to write down everything as he sat down at his desk. It was dark and cicadas chirruped beyond his walls. Sometimes he heard a faint noise from Mercy as she slept. Blissfully unaware. Once her eyes would open, the poor girl would have to adapt quickly. But he had to adapt now.

He pulled a bit of flint and lit the fire for his pipe. He smoked as he thought deeply. Staring at the words on the paper before him.

A bit of smoke went past his nose as he considered what he read.

How could Y/N be kept safe at all…

Could she be sent to live in the other town without having to marry anyone?

But that was the point of staying- she chose to stay here. To not give up the life she had in the main town. And that was what Jocelyn tried to do in the first place.

Find someone here to marry her.

Perhaps marrying another man would be better. Helpful. Wiser. But his stomach turned sour and the back of his eyes burned at the thought. Maybe it was selfish. But that idea of some man- like the blacksmith, or Christopher or anyone sweeping her off her feet and carrying her away was unreal. He kept blinking to remind himself that the image of such a marriage was not real. What was real was that moment they had in the woods. He felt himself blush at the memory. Her lips and how they matched his. The way she smiled. How soft she felt when she embraced him and how he could feel her heart pick up during the second kiss.

So no, sending her to another man was not an option that he could live with.

He dipped his quill into ink again and wrote down a few more ideas.

Could Jocelyn be reported?

There was no evidence to report other than Y/N’s word. Mercy would never blame Jocelyn for anything and would never believe that her beloved mistress poisoned her. Doctor Priestly knew his poison was missing, and the symptoms. But there was no proof Jocelyn took it. And she would get rid of the poison or put it back.

What if there was a trial? At best, she would be imprisoned for her actions. But Jocelyn was mercurial, she could charm people. She was on good terms with the Governor. She nearly seduced him minutes ago.

But at worst, he would be punished for spreading falsehoods. Jocelyn would be unscathed. And she could get away to do to Y/N whatever she wanted to do

Hire a soldier to protect Y/N?

It might look silly, but it was worth it. Though people might ask questions. The solider himself didn’t have to talk if paid properly. No matter how expensive it might be, he had to have Y/N safe. Anything. Anything that would make her safe. Please God, keep her safe.

But…how long would the soldier last?

The money would run out eventually. Then the soldier would run away, and his darling would be vulnerable.

Vulnerable unless someone was there. Someone who could always be there. The solider was the best choice but…there was one more option to consider.

Hardly leaving your house, you were scared to go anywhere or do anything alone. You made your choice and your fate would be sealed.

You didn’t know what method Jocelyn was planning. You only knew you had to defy it somehow. And even though you had to settle for life as a hermit in the colony, you were alive.

What choice had you? Who knew what Jocelyn would do and how she would act next Except for church, you could hardly go anywhere. You knew the second you were alone, it meant danger. Somehow. Even the walk to church and back, your eyes were peeled around everywhere, and you walked quickly. When you entered the house, you slammed the door shut. Pressing your back against it, you started panting. Then you slid down to your floor.

Stomach rumbling with hunger, you only took a few bites of your safe bread and drank a bit of goat’s milk. It didn’t stop the rumbling. But you didn’t want to risk anything. No food you ate felt entirely safe. After the milk hit your stomach you waited. Nothing happened, and you exhaled deeply.

Perhaps… there was one way. A way to have protection after all. But there was something you would need. Even if you did die, you knew it would not be in vain. You would beat her at her own game.

You had to do something. Fast. You had to make friends here. Allies. And powerful ones.

That afternoon as soon as the second church service was done, you looked for the tall brown head of Lady Yeardley. She always carried her Bible with her clutching as tight as if it were a shield. But her grip loosened as she noticed your polite curtsy and called her name.

“Oh, Y/N, what is it?”

Her husband chatted away with the minister. Oblivious.

“I…I would like to wonder since you are the most devoted woman out here in all our colony…what are ways I can be closer to God?” you asked, eyeing the book.

“Well, prayer, devotion, and reading of scripture daily…Y/N, your devotion to your faith is admirable. Even if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, my child, you can move mountains,” she answered kindly. Her eyes warmed to you.

“I just…I have…. I have so many fears and worries, I would like to find some comfort and peace with God. Since no one else here is a better Christian lady then you, I just…wondered how you have such peace?” you flattered, tucking away a loose strand of hair.

“Cast all your cares unto Him, and all will be well. Well, I make sure to just practice. Each morning, I rise at five to read and study my bible… you may join me if you’d like.”

Glancing away, you saw no blonde head walking around near you.

“Really?” you replied.

“Yes! We can read and pray together, discuss what the scripture is saying. Also…do you remember the old hymns from England?”

“Most of them, my lady,” you answered obediently.

“You could sing a few! I’ve just missed them terribly during church,” she said.

“Me as well! I…” you say, putting on your brightest smile you could muster, “yes…I will see you the next morning! I look forward to it.”

Yes, you would find comfort in praying. Exchanging a bit of sleep and your song for Lady Yeardley’s friendship would be worth it. And if the wife was affectionate of you, then the husband would be. You would have allies. You would be safe. And that was worth having to get up with the roosters.

Hurrying home, you caught your breath as soon as the door shut. There was another plan in store.

You ran up to your books and looked through the pages, finding two that were bare enough. You hated to ruin such lovely things, but you had no choice. It was your books or your life. Looking up the right words, you drew them in the air and then practiced writing them all over in the small corners.

The writing was memorized in your hands and mind now.

Looking among your things you found a small wooden chest. Only fit your lace gloves were in there, your one luxury. The paper would fit perfectly.

So far, you would write only two. The bare minimum.

You wrote carefully, making sure each word would be understandable. There was fire beneath your borrowed quill.

Yes…I borrowed it from Mercy…she must have gotten it from…

Shaking the thought away, you pulled yourself back to focus. The words seemed perfectly readable.

Looking around and seeing no face was peeking through your window, you began to blow it dry. Then after a bit of settling, you folded it up and placed it in the wooden box.

Then the next morning you headed over to the Sharrow’s farm. Although you yawned from the early hours and your voice was a little hoarse from a bit of early hymn singing (Even though Lady Yeardley did adore it and coo over you like a proud aunt), it was lovely to see the orange sky peep over the horizon as it settled on the tobacco field. You knew farmers kept early hours. She would be there.

Alice was blooming as much as the tobacco plants in the field before the farm. She touched them with tenderness, feeling them grow because of her. Her hair was tied back and she wore an apron that seemed a little dirty, but she looked as grand as any princess. She was smiling as she watered them. It seemed the ghost of her torture had gone away. Just for a moment.

“Pardon me…” you greeted, moving closer to her.

She ran up to embrace you, cheeks flushing.

“Y/N! I’ve been so busy! Oh, how are you?” she asked.

Nodding, you peeked over your shoulder and saw no sign of anyone listening. Then continued.

“I’m well! At least for now…but I came here because I have something for you…” you announced

You brought forth the small wooden box.

“Why, what’s in it?” she asked, she pulled the lid open until your hands shot forth and shut it closed.

“No! Alice! You can’t see what’s inside! I’m giving this to you because…”

Walking closer, you lowered your voice.

“I think I’m going to die. I’m in danger.”

“Danger? But why- who?” she asked, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“I cannot tell you.”

“Why?”

“It’s not safe to tell you, not if you still want protection from…. but…if something should happen to me…if I die, and not of illness, open this box. Hide it so no one but you know where it is. If I die, open it. Tell people it was from me. But you are not to look at it unless something should happen, do you understand!” you order, looking right into her eyes.

There was a pause. The robins and sparrows chattered around you. There were footsteps from the house.

She nodded. “Yes, I promise, Y/N.”

“Good…I can breathe a little easier,” you said.

Once you returned home, you began to write in the second free piece of paper. Trying to keep the letters small, the more papers, the better.

You thought there was the sound of hoofbeats outside. But you shrugged it off. That is until there was a sudden knock on the door that surprised you so much that the ink jolted in your hand as you signed it.

Your dress or apron was too obvious a hiding place. Scurrying, you took off your left stocking and placed it inside. If it was your moment of death, then it was a place where she could never suspect anything.

“I’m coming,” you called out as you slid your feet over the paper and put on your stocking and shoe again.

But running up to answer it, you saw it was not Jocelyn.

“S-Sa-M-Master Castelll! Hello! What brings you here!” you greeted. It was better to not call him by his first name in a place where someone could hear you. Keeping an illusion of polite distance.

He was dressed in a side cape that flowed over his left shoulder and was brightly patterned. You felt embarrassingly poor. He stepped a little closer as did you. But you stopped. As much as you craved it, in public was no place to embrace. No matter how handsome he looked that day. Eyes downward, you found your face growing hot. It seemed he was like the sun and if you stared at him directly you would go blind from daring.

But your eyes flickered to behind him where a tall brown horse stood right behind him.

“Did you…did you ride here?” you asked in disbelief.

He looked behind to see the horse and turned back to you nodding.

“Yes, Y/N! I know I could walk, but…can you ride as well! There’s someplace I’d like to show you- and it’s much better to ride than walk there. It’s a bit of a long way away! But can you ride a horse? If so, I’ll bring you one!” he offered.

“Uh, no!” you reply quickly, shaking your head.

“Hm, doesn’t matter! I’ll keep you on, tight!”

“Wait, what?”

“Please, come with me! My horse is gentle! You have to see this place!” he begged, eyes bright and pleading.

It was better than another hour alone and doing nothing out of fear.

“I…uhm, alright,” you agreed.

Walking forward, you felt his hands go to your waist and hoist you up so your feet could be secured. It made you nervous to feel how he was making sure you were safely on by pushing you up and tightening on.

You were securely on the horse, astride as you have noticed ladies ride them, with both of your legs on one side. Though feeling the creature breathe beneath you was a touch unsettling. A wrong move and it would knock you over.

He climbed up on the horse as easily as walking, making sure the cape was on one side. Clicking his tongue, he put the reigns in his hands and the horse trotted off. He was so close you could almost make out his pulse and his pleasant smell. But as you passed a few townsfolk, you had to hide your face in slight embarrassment, biting back your tongue to scold him from riding with you in public.

There were a few funny looks- who even knew. The Recorder riding off with some woman that not his fiancée.

Once the town was out of sight, the horse did a slow gallop over on a path where trees passed by, shading you from the hot Virginia sun.

“What do you think of riding, Y/N?”

“It’s…it’s thrilling! Is it always safe?”

“When you’re careful. And my horse has a gentle soul, I told you.”

As you passed a small clearing, you petted his mane gently. You heard him brush a little in appreciation.

“Would you like to hold the reigns? For a bit?”

“Yes!”

You hold onto the leather, feeling him hand them over to you. It felt incredible to have that control. To suddenly travel fast to wherever you wanted to go.

“There it is-right straight ahead…you can lead us there.”

You kept the reigns steady, moving it a little for the horse to keep forward.

The horse reached another clearing. For a while, he picked up the pace and you gripped the reigns to hold on. There was a beautiful wide sky above you and a field with a path and grass growing high enough that bees did not strain to float above it. There were a few trees that went by you as you both rode, ducking your heads under branches that were stretching down. You noticed a few plants that had little blooms passed you, a few of their puffs and petals blowing in the wind. It was a universe of emerald all around you. As the grass shortened, you saw one tobacco field that was still full of dirt and sweaty men in brown hats plowing it.

Then you came upon another large tobacco field. Only the plants in bloom in this one. The sun was peeking and disappearing beneath large, white clouds. There were no workers. They almost looked like large leaves of spinach from the ground. Already you could smell them.

“Y/N…these are some of our tobacco fields. Have you ever seen them before?” he asked.

“I have not!” you respond, looking around.

Your head tilted, but you didn’t dare crane your neck too far. Anything that would make you fall. But his hands replaced yours on the reigns. Feeling his arms were around you made your breath feel short.

“What do you think?”

“It’s…it’s huge!”

Why would he want to show you a tobacco field, though? The size, you admit it, was impressive. Maybe if you planted your own, you could get some form of money. Protection. Freedom.

“That’s not even all of it. Some people plant their own, like the Sharrows. But here-here is the heart of our tobacco, where most of us keep ours,” he explained.

“Whose tobacco does all this belong to? Do they…divide it?” you asked curiously.

He smiled and then lifted his arm to point to a certain direction.”

“The Governor’s tobacco is over there north. Most people have at least a little tobacco. Farlow’s is to the east…”

“Do you have any?” you asked.

He prompted his horse to walk forward slightly. You saw a little brown sign around there and could read his last name carved onto the wooden sign.

“This is mine,” he announced.

Turning around to him he smiled gently.

“I began planting it the day I arrived. I was the youngest son of a family with nothing to offer youngest sons, Y/N. I came here to have a new start. A new life. And I chose to invest in some tobacco. That’s what the company is making money off of, that’s a way I could have financial security. Far more than I would in England without being dependent my family’s help.”

He got off the horse, helping you as you climbed out.

You felt yourself smiling.

“That’s very good, Samuel. I’m proud of you. You’ve saved things. And it seems you’ve worked hard. You’ve done so much for this community, for everyone. I can see it.” you praise, looking at it.

“Do you know how much tobacco I have?” he asked.

“No, I don’t.”

“250 pounds right now,” he answered. “It’s enough…more than enough, even.”

You folded your arms, looking at it. The sun was hiding behind a cloud and you no longer had to squint. There was silence. You heard the horse whinny behind you at a bug that buzzed by him. Turning around, you saw him only looking at you, still smiling his same smile, but with something behind it.

“Enough for…for what?” you questioned, shrugging.

Suddenly you knew how much 150 pounds could buy a man and you froze.

“Why…why are you telling me this? What’s happening?” you asked, you felt a rush. Your muscles were tense as if ready to flee. It was like hope, but too good, too good to be true. It was false. This had to be false.

“Y/N…I know you want me to help you, and I think, to…to keep you safe…” He looked down at his hands and then turned his head up.

“Would you like me to become your husband?” he asked.

You freeze. The words seem to echo in your ear. Your hands reach up and catch yourself, nearly dizzy from the shock. He leaned over and took your hand to steady you

“What? But you’re engaged! You can’t take another wife, it’s illegal!” you cried.

“I broke if off three nights ago after you told me what she did to Mercy…” he said, leaning down to look you in the eye.

“Wha-How? Is that illegal?” you gasped.

“No. I already paid the company early for Jocelyn. Now she’s here and they have their money. The governor gave his consent for a quiet annulment. Honestly, the company won’t care if she’s married if they have the money…I was thinking…”

He cupped your cheek and you leaned on it, your hand on top of his.

“This is the way you could be kept safe. You would have my constant protection. No need to check the food. Because I will always try it. I or Mercy would always be by your side. And I’m going to hire a soldier to guard you and…I remember you said that you loved me…do you still love me?”

His voice softened. You found yourself tearing up, jaw open from the feeling of sudden, extreme happiness.

“I-I do,” you answered, your voice breaking.

“Then we could be together…would you…would you like that? Let me be plain…”

He took both of your hands, speaking with a docile voice.

“Y/N, would you like to marry me?”

Tears dotted your eyelids, sobbing but with happiness. You reached a hand up to wipe it away, finding smiling almost aching your face

“I wouldn’t marry any other man in all the world but you. Y-yes!” you choked out, embracing him.

He scooped you up into a hug, picking you up and turning around your skirt flying. Hidden with the tall green leaves and solitude of the plants, you began to laugh a little. He placed his hands on your face and you both kissed, eyes closing with the pleasure of feeling it. When you let go, you both opened your eyes, but his hands were still on your face.

He cupped your face.

“You! You-You’ll be my wife!”

You kissed the right hand that was holding you.

“And you’ll be my husband, the best of husbands in all creation,” you confirmed.

Both of you walked for a while, somewhat closer to the trees. But holding hands. Enjoying a bit of touching, innocent touching, that could still be permitted. Smiling, enjoying the moment. And the fields, rolling on forever into the horizon where the sun was starting to fade. Where anything was possible now.

“When will be a good date…I’m just worried what…about what people will think of…”

“How could anyone think that?”

“I was Jocelyn’s maid not long ago…” you reminded him.

The air soured from her name and the memory.

“We will think of a date…”

“We can’t wait too long. The company might want to send me away to get married. I…I’ve heard of it happening,” you added.

He pulled you into a slight hug, “it will be okay…it all will be.”

He scooped you up and placed you back on the horse, passing the fields and woods. Once you rode into town, you felt you could sprout wings. Yet to your surprise, he passed by where you lived, heading straight to the Governor’s house.

“Governor Yeardley!” he called out, the cheeriness in his voice could not be contained.

To your surprise, he held onto your waist as he helped you off and you were giddy at the feeling of his hands on you in public.

The governor walked out the door. Nearby you heard a gasp and your head looked to your left. Mercy walk by with a small bucket of water. She seemed as healthy as before, hardly a sign of poisoning.

Samuel held onto your hand. He raised it up pridefully as in a dance.

“Master, master…what’s going on! What is she-oh goodness, I’m so sorry, governor…” Mercy began, her white-capped head turning into a polite curtsy.

He raised his hand with a kind smile, “no, child, you’re alright…”

“Governor, I would like to ask for your consent and your blessing to marry this woman,” Samuel announced, gesturing to you.

“Marry!” Mercy blurted, eyes large.

Governor Yeardley’s eyes squinted as he looked at you. Part of you shied away, hiding a little behind his arms. Maybe he noticed your apron versus the richness of Samuel’s cloak and came to conclusions.

“Yes, may I, Governor?” he repeated.

“Do you have 150 pounds of tobacco for her?” he asked, arms crossing.

“I do.”

“And has she consented? I can’t allow one of the maids to marry a man against her will,” he said.

You stepped forward bravely.

“I…I have,” You replied.

“Then I don’t see why not! When will the wedding be?”

Both of you sighed out, looking at each other, grinning wide in relief.

“I think…next Wednesday I believe. Not too soon to prepare, but not too late for the company,” you said. “Is that alright?”

“It is fine by me,” Samuel responded. He almost seemed to glow with joy.

Governor Yeardley nodded.

“Alright, Master Castell- bring your check and promise the company representative and you will be clear that this maid is purchased for your hand,” He informed.

Heart fluttering, you threw in another word.

“When’s the latest it can be brought?” you asked.

“After the wedding. After that and your fiancée will be in debt,” he informed.

Fiancée. You looked at him again, the word so new and pouring in your mind still. Fiancée. Fiancée. He is my fiancée! You thought.

“It will be that morning, then. Can it?” Samuel asked.

“Then, that morning, Y/N, I will write a check to the company, if that is what you would like.”

“It is,” you informed.

“Well then, Master Castell- come in and have a quick drink with me to celebrate!” Governor Yeardley praised, his hand going over his shoulder and patting it.

“I’ll be out soon, stay here with Mercy,” he promised.

As the men chatted inside. Mercy went up to you, setting her bucket down.

“You’re marrying the master! But…what of Mistress Woodbyrg? He can’t keep two wives!” she commented.

“She’s…she’s no longer engaged. He broke it off with her…” you told her.

Fists tightening, you hoped maybe one day, she would know the truth. But not now.

“Oh but a wedding! A wedding! All that work to be done!”

She began pacing, counting all the chores on her fingers, but her smile still present.

“All the cooking, ribbons to tie-and lots of cleaning too, but there will be cakes! And-and the ladies toss flowers! I’ll need to pick some flowers. And maybe there will be some music! And there’s clothes and such to be picked but…”

“Mercy, I can help you, if you’d like!” you suggested, leaning forward. Yet she almost backed away from you, a little surprised at the closeness.

She stopped her excited monologue to gaze at you.

“I’ll have another mistress. I remember when…when you were kind to me that day. And when you told me you were a servant for the mistress…and now she’s out and you’re my mistress!” she gasped

“Yes. I…I can’t believe it either…I’ve never had a servant either…” you confessed awkwardly. Mercy kept blinking and you felt her eyes look around and all over you.

“I just hope I can live up to your standards of a mistress, Mercy…”

“You’re not the one to be afraid, Y/N, Miss, oh! I don’t even know what to call you now!”

The door clicked open and the men were out, Samuel turned to you and took both of your hands smiling.

“Mercy, I see you’ve met your new mistress…” he started.

“But what of Miss Woodbyrg? Would it not break her heart, sir, if I may be bold?” she asked.

He showed no reaction, his body only stiffened.

“While you were sick, I called it off.”

“Why? Pardon my questioning?”

“Because…because we were not fit to be together, I learned. And she did not want to marry me. I decided to spare us from pain,” He told flatly.

He walked over, placing both hands on your shoulders fondly, softly.

“Y/N is a kind-hearted lady and you will not find anyone better. You’ve met before. You know what she is like. Since she is going to be my wife, from now on you are to watch her…and guard her every bit like your old mistress, can you?” he ordered.

“I… I can,” Mercy answered, she bobbled her head up and down in a rush.

He offered you his arm and boldly he kissed your cheek. Despite the slight flush of embarrassment, you were excited to be so affectionate with him in front of people.

“It will be here sooner than we think…I’m thrilled.” He cheered, walking over to his house.

A few dogs and pigs trotted by. There was smoke from some home fires inside and you heard the clang of James work nearby. People passed by and you immediately tensed when they saw you.

“I am too,” you muttered.

“I have half an hour before I must go to work. Is there anything you would like, Y/N? We need to...get more used to being a couple.”

A couple. The words rolled off his mouth so easily.

“I…I’m hungry, do you have any food at your house?” you asked.

“Darling, of course” he turned pink at the sound and you held back a small giggle at the word.

He led you to his house and Mercy fixed a small plate for you.

“Wait!” you cried, pushing it away. “Is it…is it safe?”

He took his fork and ate pieces of each food before you dared do it. After a bit of time passed, he nodded at you. Then you began to stuff yourself boldly. It was so long since you could eat without fear.

“Here, have some water…” he offered, passing a cup.

Gulping it down, you almost wanted to cry from how nice it was to eat and not be afraid. Though Mercy gawked at you. What lady ate like this?

“Do you feel better?” he asked.

“Much better,” you answered.

He went to his desk and returned with a few items behind his back. He grinned like a schoolboy.

“I have this for you- a love token! If you don’t mind.” He said. “For the dear flower of my life.”

From his hand was a small silver token- a flower in the shape of a daffodil. You gasped and held it in your hand. It was small and light enough that maybe it could go on your clothes.

“Thank you! It’s wonderful! I feel like a real lady!” you responded.

“You’ve always been a true lady, Y/N,” he answered, seeing it in your hand.

Glancing over to the desk, you saw a wealth of books and paper. More than enough than you would need. Even with the marriage coming up, you had to be sure. And now that you were engaged to him…maybe it would add fuel to Jocelyn’s fire and an even bigger target on your back. Your plan could still not be tossed away.

“And Samuel… may I have some paper? And ink and quills? I want to practice writing more…” you asked.

If you had to risk death for such happiness, you needed to take further steps and not just with Alice. Whatever it took to feel like this again. To know even if you died, you would not die voiceless.

Taglist: @stardust-killer-queen @queenlover05 @itsametaphorgwil @grigorlee @bluesfortheredj @isitstraightvodka @rhapsodyrecs (for cheering me for going to revising when the first draft winded me out) @itscale @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @rubystarflight @theworksgaga @theoneandonlyeclecticepileptic @theoneandonlyeclecticepilepic

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