Lord Edward Blakewell

 When my nurse called me down to the drawing room, I thought it was time for my Latin study. I didn’t realize what awaited me would change my life forever.

 

I am Mary Elizabeth Hale. I live in England, in the Elizabethan age and it is 1573. I am 15 years old.

 

As I walk into the drawing room, instead of seeing my Latin books, I see my parents, Earl Hale and his wife, Elizabeth, who I am named after. When I was born, there was great disappointment because I was not a boy. Girls do not bring honour to the family. Also, as my father’s greatest goal for me is to find a good match, I am more expensive because as the girl I have to pay the marriage dowry.

My father speaks in his deep voice.

“Mary, my daughter, please be seated.”

As I sit down, I scan my parent’s faces to see if I am in trouble. It is not often that I get called down to talk with them.

“Mary, you are 15. You are now a beautiful young woman, and many of your age are married now. I have found a rich, educated and well-mannered young man who is keen to be your husband. What say you, Mary my dear?”

I stare at him, shocked. It had never crossed my mind that this might be the reason that I had been called down. I do not answer for a few moments, trying to comprehend what my father has just requested of me.

“Mary?” my mother asks softly. “What say you?’

My old friend from when I was 3 years old is now married and a mother. She is the same age as me. I knew in the back of my mind that I would soon be wed, though I did not think so soon.

“Father, I am but 15. Is that not young for me to be married?”

I know as I say it what his answer will be.

“Mary Elizabeth, you know many girls your age who are already mothers. You should be married now before you get older and no-one will want you.”

“Yes father.” I say. I won’t have a choice anyway, as I am completely and absolutely under his rule. “What is his name?”

“Lord Edward Blakewell.” My Father answers proudly. “Not many girls have the privilege of marrying a Lord.”

I force a smile, get up, and excuse myself.

 

 

I sink onto my bed, close my eyes and let out a long, deep sigh. Tears don’t come, but my heart is heavy. I am scared, and I don’t want to marry.

Lord Edward. He sounds despicable, I think to myself.

“My lady?”

It’s my nurse coming in.

“The Lord told me you are to be married.”

I grunt in confirmation.

“Well, well! What’s this? Did your manners leave with your childhood?”

I prop myself up on my elbows.

“He sounds absolutely despicable.” I say to her, and watch her shocked face with a sort of satisfaction.

“But my lady! You have the utmost privilege of marrying Lord Blakewell. Your father has chosen well.”

I groan, and collapse onto the bed again.

My nurse makes a sympathetic noise, and comes over to stroke my long hair.

“When Wednesday comes, your big day, you will be ready for your new life; marriage.” She whispers.

 

 

“Ahh!” I groan. “Must it be so tight, nurse?”

It is Wednesday, the day of my wedding. I have many ladies bustling around me, and trying to get me ready. I have three alone tightening my corset. Well, tightening is an understatement. They seem intent on crushing me. When my corset is done, it is all I can do not to topple over, and faint. Then they sit me down on a stool, while they lower a heavy red satin dress over me, attack my head with pins, and adorn me in expensive jewelry. When I feel so heavy I might sink into the floor, they step back and admire their work. My nurse sighs with happiness and clasps her hands in mine.

“You are a beautiful bride.” She sniffs, taking out her handkerchief, and mopping her eyes.

My nurse has brought me up and cared for me since I was just a baby. She is devoted, and is like a second mother to me.

I smile and begin to lift out my arms to embrace her, when all the ladies cry out in unison.  

“My lady, restrain yourself!” One woman tuts. “You will rip the seams.”

I sigh, disgruntled, wondering if this is what my new life will be like.

 

Music swells as I walk slowly to the front of the church, a thick veil shrouding my face. I wonder what my fiancé looks like, I think. I have not met Lord Edward Blakewell yet, as it is custom for the bride and groom not to see each other till the wedding day. I reach the front of the church, and my veil is lifted off my face. I stare into the eyes of Lord Edward, who in a few minutes will be my husband. He has dark blue eyes, and long black hair, and a strange smile I try to work out. But there is no time. The priest is calling us to kneel, and I somehow manage to get down on my knees, with my dress flowing around me. Kneeling beside the altar, the priest starts speaking in Latin, and giving us a blessing. When the priest asks him too, Edward enthusiastically says ‘I do.’ Then the priest turns to me, starts speaking in slow Latin, and then, gulping down my nerves, I say ‘I do.’

I am lifted to my feet by my husband, trying to be brave as I face this new life as Lady Mary Blakewell.

I hope you enjoyed this story! 

Click here to read the Shakespearean version