The lord and lady were out of the estate, and the butler was more or less in charge, a crotchty old man who didn't really care to deal with the children. So they were set about their lessons then pretty much pushed off to their governess, but she had fallen ill so the girls ended up sitting in the kitchen where Molly O'Malley was working She was teaching young Jude how to break beans for the evening dinner. Seeing the young ladies of the house she bowed her head, Jude looked up and smiled wide at his friends.
"Top of the day, my ladies." the dark haired beauty spoke to the young girls. Emily always had a mind of her own so she took a seat next to Jude, watching as he snapped the beans the same way his mom had done without messing up while he smiled at her. Jude's education wasn't quite the same as the girls. In younger years he had learned to read and write with them until their governess spoke against teaching the little mick. Molly had decided against the lord's choice that her son didn't need to read.
Emily and her brother had been teaching Jude anyway when no parents were around, and sometimes when their parents weren't around, there would be days like this where the children sat and listened to Molly tell stories of the old country the place she would send Jude off to when she felt he needed to learn things that. Joanna was by his side watching as he snapped the beans.
Today, Molly told them the story of Rhiannon, it was a welsh myth but one she knew well enough and the girls needed a story of a strong warrior queen. It always took a few hours when Molly told her tales. Her and Jude moved around the kitchen working since the parents would be back by evening. Dinner was nearly finished when she finished the tale. All four of the children were sitting in the kitchen.
"Oh Christ, off with ye! Yer parents are here!" She rushed the kids off. "Jude, come quickly, help me set the table." With that each went off their own way, with visions of the warrior queen in their minds.
Eight months after he had left the manor, hugs for everyone including the parents he had felt had out-casted him, and giving Patrick the keys to the cottage, asking him a secret promise. If Jude was to fall in battle, Patrick was to take his mother's gold and go hire someone to torch the cottage before anyone else could move in. Though he called the lord, father, in his mother's language, Patrick had always been more of a father. Riding away that night, waving to everyone as he left on the back of a wagon.
The first letter came a month later, with peruse apologies. A descriptions of how lovely France was and how he wanted to bring Emily and Joanna one day. He always mentioned Joanna so none would see how much he favored Emily. After that letters came every two weeks. Sometimes to Joanna, sometimes Martin, usually to Emily herself. It was around the three month mark that Liam went to the Lord and asked for Emily's hand in marriage. Saying it did no good for her to worry for the dirty mick off at war.
Christmas came and passed, her handmade gifts had warmed not only his heart but his body. Everyone was so certain he had a fiance after the picture had been unwrapped with the gifts. He had nothing he could send back, short of a lock of his hair and the promise of being home as soon as he could. A letter had also a week after he had sent his correspondence back, addressed from Martin, but the handwriting was wrong, informing him that Emily was engaged to Liam. He wrote Martin letting him know a letter with bad writing had arrived claiming to be him, so to please watch his back.
Months passed and letters from home kept him going as he was moved around France, he had gone through the trenches multiple times now and escaped with little injury but some of his letters got dark talking about the heavy injuries and deaths of his friends from his unit. In April, a photo came to Emily of Jude and his unit, from near the Somme River. They all looked dirty but well in morale. Martin had written to let Jude know that his sister had joined the nurses corps but any letters he wrote would be forwarded, Joanna sent him a book of dirty limericks, telling him to bring his twisted self home soon.
Then July first hit, and papers all over read of the bloodiest battle yet. No letters came then.
Though Jude's old job as Patrick's apprentice had waited on him, and the Lady's offer for him to work in the kitchen like his mother before him. He still couldn't stomach being in the kitchens since his mother's death, alas. Instead he had gotten work in one of the local factories. Of course, despite the fact he was working his way, most of his coworkers picked fun at him, calling him a rich boy.
The deed of ownership had been made over to Jude, not long after Martin's death. He really didn't need to be working in the factory to buy the cottage, but he knew how much his mother was told it was, versus what he had actually paid. Most of his army money had gone into it, a solider didn't make much, though his new habits did eat up a chunk of what he made every week. He drank more than he ever did before his mother's death, he almost always had a cigarette hanging from his lips when a lady wasn't around.
Often at night, a lantern could be seen moving towards the gate, good old Patrick meeting Jude to walk him back to the cottage, the old grounds keeper was had taken to living in the cottage before Jude ever returned home, which never bothered Jude in the least, the old man was family as far as he was concerned.
Johanna one night got to overhear them as they walked past the back of the estate towards the cottage. "Boyo, you need to slow it down, whatever happened there is over, your gonna drink yourself to death."
"I'm fine, Patrick, just unwindin' a bit." the rest fell into gaelic. Of course, she told her sister what she heard. As luck would have it the next day was Easter Sunday, and all of the factory's were closed. A party planned at the estate after church but first was Sunday mass.
Something Jude rarely missed. It was clear he didn't look well when Patrick plooped his best hat on his head and pushed the hungover Irishman out the door to cross the yards to meet the family as they gathered in the car.
"Máthair, Athair, Miss Johanna, and Lady Emily." He greeted, as the lord and lady exchanged knowing looks. It seemed Jude was taking after the father he never knew. Both had been friends with his father of course that was the whole reason Jude and Molly had even been brought to the estate. Sitting between the girls, he pulled his hat off to keep it off his head in front of the ladies.
"Jude... your face." Lady Cavanagh, gently scolded, as Johanna giggled, Jude had forgotten to shave, and on a holy day no less.
"There is no time, let the boy be." Lord Cavanagh spoke up, looking none to pleased.
The service was long and dragging on, Jude had nodded off once before he was elbowed hard in the ribs, popping up fast with a salute. "SIR YES SIR." the whole cathedral staring, as he quickly sat down blushing the color of the girl in front of him's hair.
"Jude..." Lord Cavanagh, practically growled, as soon as the service was over as everyone was talking and slowly exiting the Jude and Emily's father were having a heated debate outside. By the time the women approched all the could be heard was. "Your going to shave and get your act together, Jude, your not going to make a fool of this family."
"Don't I already? I'm not your son, I'm not your problem!" He hissed back before he saw Emily and turned walking off quickly, walking past the cars. Of course, he didn't get far before two men in uniform stopped him. The three chattering, both were noblemen who had had to fight as well, old friends of Martin's who used to play cards with the two when their families were busy.
"I wish he would just return to himself." Usually their father never spoke up on it, but as weeks had turned to months since Jude's return it was clear something had changed. Liam of course made his way out to chit-chat, hoping that since Martin was dead, that if he wheasled his way into Emily's bed, he'd be the next lord.
He had been sent back to the front, leaving the hospital had been one of the hardest things he had ever had to do. He had run through the halls to hug Emily before he could be pulled back out. A kiss to both cheeks and a paper shoved in her hand folded small. "Go home, don't stay here and die. Go home, give me something to come home to, Emmy." He spoke into her ear before he was called by name, turning and saluting he headed quickly away with the commander, his shoulder was still a mess but well enough to hold a riffle.
Weeks passed, before the first letter was shoved in his hands by a passing officer. It was already stained and her smell long gone but he still smelled the paper as he huddled by a lamp to read her words. He read it once, twice, thrice before he found his way to his pack to pull out paper. While the other men borrowed bits as well, his rations ignored in favor of a cigarette and a bit of ink. His letter written out quickly over a few pages before it went into the fire. He couldn't ask a lady of high standing to marry him... he was almost sure the kiss his mind kept replaying was a trick of the whiskey they filled him with for his wound.
Another letter written the next night, more tame, less intimate, but still signed 'Soon to come home to you' Which was how he signed all letters now. A letter written to Martin next, asking if his sworn brother would approve if he asked for Emily if he survived. He was nervous and yet, both were sent, but Martin was dead before it could even get to him, he worried endlessly that the letter had ended up in the hands of the wrong person. He almost sent Patrick a letter to ask him to intercept but it was too late... and Patrick couldn't read.
He spent his quiet moments rereading he words and praying the war would end. All he wanted now was a quiet life and to not see more bloodshed.
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dontmakeitbad) wrote2019-03-25 07:22 pm
Molly's tales
"Top of the day, my ladies." the dark haired beauty spoke to the young girls. Emily always had a mind of her own so she took a seat next to Jude, watching as he snapped the beans the same way his mom had done without messing up while he smiled at her. Jude's education wasn't quite the same as the girls. In younger years he had learned to read and write with them until their governess spoke against teaching the little mick. Molly had decided against the lord's choice that her son didn't need to read.
Emily and her brother had been teaching Jude anyway when no parents were around, and sometimes when their parents weren't around, there would be days like this where the children sat and listened to Molly tell stories of the old country the place she would send Jude off to when she felt he needed to learn things that. Joanna was by his side watching as he snapped the beans.
Today, Molly told them the story of Rhiannon, it was a welsh myth but one she knew well enough and the girls needed a story of a strong warrior queen. It always took a few hours when Molly told her tales. Her and Jude moved around the kitchen working since the parents would be back by evening. Dinner was nearly finished when she finished the tale. All four of the children were sitting in the kitchen.
"Oh Christ, off with ye! Yer parents are here!" She rushed the kids off. "Jude, come quickly, help me set the table." With that each went off their own way, with visions of the warrior queen in their minds.
The first few months
The first letter came a month later, with peruse apologies. A descriptions of how lovely France was and how he wanted to bring Emily and Joanna one day. He always mentioned Joanna so none would see how much he favored Emily. After that letters came every two weeks. Sometimes to Joanna, sometimes Martin, usually to Emily herself. It was around the three month mark that Liam went to the Lord and asked for Emily's hand in marriage. Saying it did no good for her to worry for the dirty mick off at war.
Christmas came and passed, her handmade gifts had warmed not only his heart but his body. Everyone was so certain he had a fiance after the picture had been unwrapped with the gifts. He had nothing he could send back, short of a lock of his hair and the promise of being home as soon as he could. A letter had also a week after he had sent his correspondence back, addressed from Martin, but the handwriting was wrong, informing him that Emily was engaged to Liam. He wrote Martin letting him know a letter with bad writing had arrived claiming to be him, so to please watch his back.
Months passed and letters from home kept him going as he was moved around France, he had gone through the trenches multiple times now and escaped with little injury but some of his letters got dark talking about the heavy injuries and deaths of his friends from his unit. In April, a photo came to Emily of Jude and his unit, from near the Somme River. They all looked dirty but well in morale. Martin had written to let Jude know that his sister had joined the nurses corps but any letters he wrote would be forwarded, Joanna sent him a book of dirty limericks, telling him to bring his twisted self home soon.
Then July first hit, and papers all over read of the bloodiest battle yet. No letters came then.
Demon Alcohol
The deed of ownership had been made over to Jude, not long after Martin's death. He really didn't need to be working in the factory to buy the cottage, but he knew how much his mother was told it was, versus what he had actually paid. Most of his army money had gone into it, a solider didn't make much, though his new habits did eat up a chunk of what he made every week. He drank more than he ever did before his mother's death, he almost always had a cigarette hanging from his lips when a lady wasn't around.
Often at night, a lantern could be seen moving towards the gate, good old Patrick meeting Jude to walk him back to the cottage, the old grounds keeper was had taken to living in the cottage before Jude ever returned home, which never bothered Jude in the least, the old man was family as far as he was concerned.
Johanna one night got to overhear them as they walked past the back of the estate towards the cottage. "Boyo, you need to slow it down, whatever happened there is over, your gonna drink yourself to death."
"I'm fine, Patrick, just unwindin' a bit." the rest fell into gaelic. Of course, she told her sister what she heard. As luck would have it the next day was Easter Sunday, and all of the factory's were closed. A party planned at the estate after church but first was Sunday mass.
Something Jude rarely missed. It was clear he didn't look well when Patrick plooped his best hat on his head and pushed the hungover Irishman out the door to cross the yards to meet the family as they gathered in the car.
"Máthair, Athair, Miss Johanna, and Lady Emily." He greeted, as the lord and lady exchanged knowing looks. It seemed Jude was taking after the father he never knew. Both had been friends with his father of course that was the whole reason Jude and Molly had even been brought to the estate. Sitting between the girls, he pulled his hat off to keep it off his head in front of the ladies.
"Jude... your face." Lady Cavanagh, gently scolded, as Johanna giggled, Jude had forgotten to shave, and on a holy day no less.
"There is no time, let the boy be." Lord Cavanagh spoke up, looking none to pleased.
The service was long and dragging on, Jude had nodded off once before he was elbowed hard in the ribs, popping up fast with a salute. "SIR YES SIR." the whole cathedral staring, as he quickly sat down blushing the color of the girl in front of him's hair.
"Jude..." Lord Cavanagh, practically growled, as soon as the service was over as everyone was talking and slowly exiting the Jude and Emily's father were having a heated debate outside. By the time the women approched all the could be heard was. "Your going to shave and get your act together, Jude, your not going to make a fool of this family."
"Don't I already? I'm not your son, I'm not your problem!" He hissed back before he saw Emily and turned walking off quickly, walking past the cars. Of course, he didn't get far before two men in uniform stopped him. The three chattering, both were noblemen who had had to fight as well, old friends of Martin's who used to play cards with the two when their families were busy.
"I wish he would just return to himself." Usually their father never spoke up on it, but as weeks had turned to months since Jude's return it was clear something had changed. Liam of course made his way out to chit-chat, hoping that since Martin was dead, that if he wheasled his way into Emily's bed, he'd be the next lord.
Radar Love.
Weeks passed, before the first letter was shoved in his hands by a passing officer. It was already stained and her smell long gone but he still smelled the paper as he huddled by a lamp to read her words. He read it once, twice, thrice before he found his way to his pack to pull out paper. While the other men borrowed bits as well, his rations ignored in favor of a cigarette and a bit of ink. His letter written out quickly over a few pages before it went into the fire. He couldn't ask a lady of high standing to marry him... he was almost sure the kiss his mind kept replaying was a trick of the whiskey they filled him with for his wound.
Another letter written the next night, more tame, less intimate, but still signed 'Soon to come home to you' Which was how he signed all letters now. A letter written to Martin next, asking if his sworn brother would approve if he asked for Emily if he survived. He was nervous and yet, both were sent, but Martin was dead before it could even get to him, he worried endlessly that the letter had ended up in the hands of the wrong person. He almost sent Patrick a letter to ask him to intercept but it was too late... and Patrick couldn't read.
He spent his quiet moments rereading he words and praying the war would end. All he wanted now was a quiet life and to not see more bloodshed.