Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Listen to this entry,” she says, her voice trembling with anticipation. She clears her throat and reads aloud.
June 15, 1852
It is with a heavy heart and a burdened soul that I commit these words to paper, for I am compelled by a force stronger than my own will. My affection for Elizabeth Blackburn, a jewel amongst the common stones of our town, has driven me to actions unbecoming of a gentleman. Yet, what choice have I when faced with the prospect of her union to Henry Mardraggon, a man unworthy of her grace and beauty?
This evening, under the shroud of twilight, I found myself at the old tavern where whispers travel faster than the wind. There, amidst the shadows, I let slip a tale most foul, yet necessary. I spoke not with malice but out of a desperate desire to sway her heart toward mine. The rumors of her alleged indiscretions—an invention of my own making—are designed to cast doubt where there should be none. With doubt, surely Henry will call off the impending nuptials.
As I lay these words down, I am tormented by the dual nature of my actions. Is it not a man’s right to fight for his heart’s desire? Yet, how can one justify the tarnishing of an innocent’s reputation in pursuit of personal happiness? The very ink that stains this page is a testament to the conflict that wages within me.
I pray that the morrow brings clarity and, with God’s grace, forgiveness for my transgressions. My only solace is the hope that once free of her ties to Henry, Elizabeth will turn her affections toward a man who loves her truly and deeply.
May time prove me a fool for my actions and restore the honor of the lady I hold in such high esteem.
I frown as Sylvie looks up at me. “Who wrote that?”
Holding her place on the page she just read, she closes the journal to show the name Tommen Mardraggon embossed on the front. “I don’t know who that is,” she says, “but he’s confessing to starting the rumors about Elizabeth Blackburn.”
“You know the backstory?” I ask.
Sylvie nods, eyes still pinned to the confession. “Papa told me.”
The name Tommen Mardraggon isn’t familiar to me, but I know where I can find the answer. I move to a bookshelf that has an old family bible where our family tree had been filled in by some distant relative.
I open it up and adjust slightly as Sylvie sidles up next to me. The lines of lineage take up two pages and I find Henry Mardraggon’s parents and start skimming from there down, following branches as they extend outward.
“Here it is.” I tap on Tommen Mardraggon’s name. “He was a third cousin to Henry.”
“And apparently in love with Elizabeth. Does that entry mean he did that on purpose to break up Henry and Elizabeth?”
“It seems that way,” I muse, moving back to the journal. I open it to the front and see many entries dating back a few years from Tommen Mardraggon. He worked in our distilling business as a manager of sorts and mostly liked to write short poems and fiction. But I found several odes to Elizabeth who apparently only had eyes for Henry.
Jesus… he didn’t just ruin Elizabeth’s reputation, he put into action the feud between the families, causing the accidental death of Henry and inciting Elizabeth to take her own life.
I flip past the entry Sylvie just read and there are a few more. She and I read them, basically an accounting of the gossip that started to spread through the town and Tommen’s plan to step in to restore Elizabeth’s honor when she was ready. But then the entries stop abruptly and while I don’t know the exact date Henry was killed, I’m guessing that’s when Tommen stopped writing. I would have expected someone callous enough to come up with this lie so he could get the girl to take advantage of Henry’s death, but maybe he had an attack of conscience.
I’m not sure we’ll ever know.
“That’s good though,” Sylvie says, and I look down at her in question. “I mean… we know that Elizabeth wasn’t unfaithful and that someone set her and Henry up.”
“A Mardraggon set them up,” I reply, struggling to keep my tone unaffected, although I can almost taste the bitterness. Just one more strike against my family and now I have to wonder if this will reignite the feud.
“What’s with the long faces?”
A thrill zips through my body at Kat’s voice and Sylvie and I both turn to find her walking into the vault. She’s wearing a pair of faded jeans, muck boots and a T-shirt. The least fancy outfit one could put together, but she looks like a million bucks. Her long black hair is tied in a loose braid that hangs over her shoulder with tendrils of hair that have come loose.