Free Hinterlands by Isha Dehaven

 
 
 
 
 
 
    A melia was filled with anxiety and expectation as
the carriage bumped along the dirt highway, and she felt herself jump
involuntarily with each shake and jostle. She was doing her best to look composed
and servile, not an easy task for a girl just turned 18 and away from London
for the very first time.   She
clutched her small canvas bag tightly in her lap and sat up straight, just as
her mother had instructed her to do this morning.   In fact, those had been mother’s parting
words as the carriage was pulling away: Sit up straight dear! Amelia could
still hear them as if her mother was sitting in the seat beside her. It was a
full 30 miles to Hinterlands estate and the normally smooth road through the
moors had been damaged by days of rain.   As a result there were sections of hillside that had washed across the
carriage tracks creating frequent obstacles. Some of these washouts were nearly
impassable, and in those instances the driver had his boy jump down to guide
the horses as they carefully inched passed. After an hour of such holdups, the
driver had apparently grown inpatient and had now decided to simply power
through them as evidenced by the uptick in speed and violence of the ride.   Amelia tried to turn her thoughts away
from the dangers of the road and on to more positive things.
    The sun shone with
a brilliance that would cheer anyone, and Amelia knew she should feel buoyed at
the prospect of this new situation: serving Lord Dunmoor at the grand country
estate Hinterlands.   Amelia’s mother
had arranged for the serving position over a year ago when Amelia was just
seventeen, and its importance couldn’t be overemphasized. The money she earned
here would help provide a future for her mother and her many sisters at home.
After the loss of their father to violence when Amelia was only 11 all of the
children had made due bringing in what money and food that they could, in order
to make ends meet.   It was a rough
existence in the streets of St. Giles, and the girl’s skirts and faces were
often dirty with coal and soot spewed forth from the many chimneys that covered
the ever-growing city. Their mother had been forced into working long hours as
a washerwoman for a wealthy widow in a distant part of the city, and as a
result of this, Amelia had fallen into her mother’s role at home, her young
life a continual struggle to care for her three sisters. Often, they could
afford only the smallest pieces of coal, and the girls had spent many nights
shivering in their small cottage, their bodies pressed together before a tiny
fire.   At those times she often
dreamed of being fabulously rich, and never having to freeze again.   It all seemed a world away.
    Amelia thought of
these things now as she stared from the window of the carriage.   She was far from the world of London and
she wished to make it far from her mind as well.   She thought instead of her body-scrubbed
clean and slightly perfumed, with the faintest touch of rosewater—a
parting gift from her youngest sister. She also admired the fine cream-colored
working dress she was wearing, one that her mother had sewn herself over the
past two weeks.   She ran her hands
over the fabric, cool to the touch, smoothing it against her slender thighs.
She checked that her blonde hair was wound tightly into the working bun that
was customary for her position.   Amelia was very proud of her hair, and had always taken great care to
keep the wavy golden strands healthy and clean.   She shifted slightly in the seat,
adjusting to the feel of her new stockings and pantaloons.   She had never felt so formal, although
she was only preparing to work as a housemaid. This position had meant
everything to her mother and sisters.   It was a chance at a new life for them all and she felt a great pressure
pushing her from behind, urging her forward. The young girl inside of her
however, the one who sought out adventure and romance, this girl too