A Light i the Darkness- Chapter One

I looked out my dirty attic window, gazing at the gathering out on the green and listening to the sound of faint music. Andre was down there… my love. Smiling, I turned away to ready myself for the night of dancing. Life had not treated me easily, but then he had come. There were so many possibilities with him- I was thrilled with anticipation.
A heavy sense of dreariness had hung over the New York City for so long- really ever since the battle for the city and the following fire- but joy and high spirits always came with Christmastide. Now the laughter and excited chatter of the servant girls danced through the uppermost story of the Wilcox’s mansion, as they primped and did themselves up for the Christmas Eve celebration. The fact that all ignored me, giving me hard looks in place of friendly talk bothered me not, though I had never been able to understand the reason for their scorn. I fathomed it was related to my past; I was not of their class and that mad me arrogant and conceited and cruel and spiteful, everything their masters had been to them. By now, however, I was accustomed to the treatment, besides, I was lost in romantic daydreams. I knew they were all secretly envious of me, for Andre was by far the most handsome and charismatic of the servants, longed after much. I glanced in the broken mirror. Features that bespoke of my intelligence, spirit, sensitivity, and determination looked back at me. My curly dark brown hair, with flashes of auburn in it, was pulled back simply, with a few loose curls wisps framing my face and piercing green eyes. The wine-colored dress I wore had once been comely, despite its simplicity, but had, I admitted to myself, faded into shabbiness. I threw on my cape and flew down the drafty back stairs of Mayor Mathews’ grand mansion.
A moment later I had come to the commons, which was being made into a place of revelry, and began searching for Andre. The atmosphere was one of carefreeness; groups engaged in animated conversation, a vivacious mix of melodies playing in the background, and couples whirling through dances together. A few men gave me looks of interest as I passed- some whistled- one sauntered up to me. Swenson. Would he never stop this violating pursuit of me?
“You’re looking pretty tonight, Hope,” he was said with slurred words, already drunk, though it was early in the evening.
I would never respond to him. I kept walking. .
He grabbed me by the shoulder and whirled me around. I was so repulsed by his touch I could have slapped him in the face, but I felt that would not be wise. “Acting a bit cold to an honest admirer- don’t you think?”
“If you’re so ‘honest’, let me go,” I said.
“What’s you hurry, girl?” he said tightening his grip and moving closer.
His strength was unyielding- hopelessly greater than my own. The situation screamed danger. “I beg you,” I said, “let me-”
But before I could finish, another voice broke in. “Lay off of her, Swenson.” Andre!
Swenson eyed him warily, but deciding the advantage was against him, let go of me, and walked quickly away. Andre was beside me in a moment. “What did he do to you?” he asked, concern showing in his eyes.
“Nothing,” I said happily, “You came in time.”
“Thankfully. I would never have anything happen to you.” He took my hand and kissed it charmingly, sending a warm wave through me. “I’ve never seen anyone look so pretty as you tonight.”
“Surely you flatter me,” I said.
“Indeed not,” he said, “May I have your next dance?”
“Of course,” I said. As we moved near the fiddlers I noticed their skill and remarked on it.
“I care not for music,” he said, “unless of course it means dancing with you.”
I was about to ask how he could feel so about music, but realized he had given me a complement and relished that instead. And so we spun through the dances, lively and melodic. As we danced girls noticed him with looks of extreme longing. And I knew why. Being in his arms felt exhilarating, secure, and romantic all at once, all so different from the life I now lead it seemed like a fairy tale. I let my mind dream of the future. I must survive only a bit longer and then this forever. This is how it will be when we’re married. He will marry me. He must love, or why would he say such things, do such things?
As it grew late, we strolled off to the side, talking. Then he stopped, murmuring something, of which above the music I only caught “…so beautiful.” Then, he kissed me. I was slightly surprised, but not at all displeased and invited it, as well as his next. Yet, my conscience was somehow pricked. Annoyed by it, I nonetheless drew back. He looked at me quizzically.
Unsure of how to reply, I said, “I cannot…until you tell me your intentions are honorable, that I am not some passing fancy of yours.”
“I promise, my beauty,” he said, “How could I ever leave one I am so enraptured with? I love you.” He kissed me again before bidding me goodnight. I felt as if I was floating as I returned to my garret, the rest of my pained life seeming worlds away.

I awoke from my pleasant dreams cold, exhausted, and famished. For a moment I laid there in the dark on my rude straw pallet, listening… most still slept, but the house was beginning to wake up-I was late for my duties; I’d get beaten if I didn’t hurry. I knew to avoid the beatings at all costs; I’d received enough to have a back full of scars.
I stood up quickly, too quickly; dizziness overcame me. I threw my hand out to stop myself from falling, but there was nothing to grab onto and I slammed into the wall. For a moment, I stood there shivering in the cold of the attic, trying to keep from collapsing, the world black before my eyes. It’s Christmas. Oh, Andre, when will you take me out of this place? Finally, my vision cleared, and, my fingers numb and clumsy from cold, I tried to don my work clothes, the only garments I owned besides the dress I had worn the night before. Last night… how different it was from this life of mine- a servant’s life of beatings, hunger and work. A bit of kindness given to me when all else if cruelty.
My work was in tending to and providing wood for the fireplaces in the mansion. There were over three dozen of them- I knew well the number. All had to be finished before breakfast. The next hours I spent hurrying from hearths to the wood pile in the work yard at the house’s rear, the frigid winds whipping through my worn dress and shawl, piercing my skin like tiny needles and my arms growing weak under the heavy wood. Through it all my mind was lost on the events of the night before. Dancing with Andre… He is my hope, my light in this darkness. At last I finished, and hurried to Miss Mathews’ chamber, knowing I was late. There was no time for breakfast. My formal duty was tending to Annabelle; my tasks other places were simply for the purpose of taking as much work from me as possible. I knocked meekly on her door and entered. She was sitting up in bed, as if entirely helpless to dismount without my assistance.
“My, my if the Queen hasn’t at last chosen to grace us with her presence,” she said sharply.
Delighted with me, as usual. “Forgive me, miss.”
“You have kept me waiting half the hour, you slave- I assure you this will not be passed over.” So she launched into a tirade against me, attacking me as I tended to her. Her words troubled me, but I did not take great hurt. You don’t know my secret… Andre.
I had just started on her face, applying the rogue and lip-paint and what-not, inwardly begging for a relief, when Emaline, Annabelle’s younger sister, pushed open the oak door and entered, flushed and eager, with news of another evening of dancing they had received invitations to. Of course, their conversation eventually traveled where it always does- boys. The two are such insufferable flirts! And they are so incredibly resentful! They always took all pains to make their jealousy of me clear- jealousy for the more appropriate attention I once received from boys, back when I was in my rightful place. They began gushing over their handsome second cousin who had arrived a few days before and was- they desperately hoped- staying extendedly
“Hope dear, we’ve been talking, but we wonder-enlighten us- how are your marriage prospects looking? We know that someone of your fine… status must have such enviable social interaction,” remarked Annabelle slyly.
“Though, somehow,” said Emaline, “I think your taste in men is quite… peculiar, but I’m sure they are fine indeed” which sent them into a gale of malicious laughter.
“Just imagine- her and Wilson!” Annabelle said, naming spitefully who I guessed to be the famed second cousin. But inwardly, I smiled. I had someone better then their Wilson or anyone else. Andre…

The bright, cold sun seemed to laugh at me as I traversed the dirty, icy streets of New York on Thursday, my afternoon off. The gay decorations of Christmas now drooped, past their time. When I reached the Riviere’s impressive house I slipped in through the back. Servants that I had known for a lifetime bustled passed me, giving me looks of pity, knowing the contrast of who I was and the life I was living. One servant I had never seen before- a good-looking young man-gazed at me more questioningly, but I passed nonetheless without event, as I searched the rooms that held so many happy memories from my childhood. I found Elise playing the pianoforte in the music room, her delicate form illuminated in the sun streaming in through the window. Her hair, the color of wheat, but with hints of auburn and gold, was twisted up becomingly around her heart-shaped face, which showed on it all the emotions of the music. The elegant lace-trimmed gown she wore accented her unfathomably blue eyes. For so long she had been my only source of hope, until Andre. Our families had been close, for her father was secretly patriot, as mine had once been; now, though Uncle was so thick with the British now, she had stayed true. The kindest friend one could wish for… As she finished her sonata I threw my hands on her shoulders, and she shrieked quietly from surprise. I laughed gaily.
“Hope!” she cried, throwing her arms around me in an embrace. “How did I not know it was you? How fare you?”
“Oh, Elise, I think I’m in love,” I said dramatically.
“Andre?” she asked.
“Aye; it is him. He has pledged his love for me.”
“Indeed? Then the end of you miseries is near.”
“I know!” I said joyfully, “I can scarcely believe it. It seems like a fairytale after this nightmare of a life of mine.” I said, expressing myself truthfully; everything came back to him. My Andre…. my hope…. We talked on,, me and my most faithful companion until I realized it was time I should be visiting my family. I walked the short stretch of street between our houses full of hope, though I in no way looked forward to facing the situation at home.
I found I had rightly dreaded the weekly visit to Mother and my sister. Though she attempted to seem otherwise, I could tell Mother was distressed and dejected. But what troubled me more was when I realized, with some shock, that little Grace was becoming timid. Now ten, being seven years younger than me, she had always been so lively and full of joy, wanting to help with anything and brightening everyone’s days. Her timidity was not the modestly of a girl becoming a woman; it could only be that she had been forced into it, frightened and left to no other choice. Uncle was attempting to ruin her life, as he would have done to mine if Andre had not come. The despicable man! All the while he frittered away father’s wealth on vanities for himself and his children. Giselle- she was now “out” and so of course needed jewels and silk so she might charm all who laid eyes on her. And Franklyn? He never did anything that might threaten his pleasure- or unproductiveness- and lazily pursued with great liberality all that might please him- mostly gambling and alcohol. One day I would expose Uncle to the world, pay him back for all he had taken from Mother, and Grace, and I.
As I returned to my place of work, Andre was the only happy thought in my mind. Well-born men and women pushed past me roughly, showing their high-class disdain for servants. One such was, I realized later, the new man I had seen at the Riviere’s. Strange it was to meet him twice so close together, but more poignant to me was the fact that he treated me so contemptuously, though he knew me not. I hated the unjustness of my life.

I dreamed of Andre constantly, the next few weeks, through all my pain and hardship, for I knew he was the only way out of my terrible life, and I was smitten with his charm, his good looks, the way he made me laugh so easily. Worrisome thoughts began to creep up on me when he didn’t come- Have I done something to offend him? Has he decided I am not worthy of him? But I pushed them out of my mind, deciding he could not but be committed to me, after he had treated me so at the dance. Everyday my longing to see him grew greater, until one clear and cold night I decided I would call on him myself.
With images of our last meeting playing in my head, I flew out into the frosty night. The star and moon glimmered vividly in the sky above, illuminating everything in a mystical light, twinkling softly off the snow. My head spun with thoughts of Andre as I ran down the paths to his quarters…my heartbeat quickened. But I grew winded and slowed to rest. Just as I was about to hasten on again, I caught a murmur of voices, coming from the gardens I was skirting. Curiosity overpowered me; I crept quietly through the dormant shrubbery. What I saw wrenched away my breath, my strength, my hope. . Andre embracing another woman. My first instinct was to flee away… pretend nothing was wrong, that I had seen nothing, that my only light had not been snuffed out forever. But I stopped myself.
Stepping into view, I said with a weak and trembling voice, “Andre, what is this?”
Startled, he jerked, and quickly pulled away from the woman, who departed, then looked at me. For a minute I saw guilt and dismay in his eyes, then, anger. “What are you doing here?”
“I ask the same of you,” I said.
“You’re not my mother, Hope. Nor my conscience. Don’t go moralizing on me,” he returned.
“You tell me you love me, then I find you embracing another woman and you accuse me of moralizing you?” I said, anger crowding out my hurt for the moment.
“I don’t owe you anything, so don’t act as if I do,”
“But…. you promised me,” I managed.
“Oh, that.” He laughed derisively, “Girl, I was just playing.”
“And what were you playing with- my heart?” His every word was a sentence, into despair-my love had betrayed me.
“Look around you! Your heart and ridiculous ideals stand no chance in the world!”
“My ‘ridiculous ideals’? Do you have no sense of honor?” A huge sense of doom settled on me, “How can you say this? Goodnight and goodbye.”