caught in the riptide

Miss Elizabeth Greene of Manchester wasn't the loveliest woman to grace this world, necessarily. She was wealthy, and her betrothed, a handsome Connor Jones, was even wealthier, and to society, they were paired together perfectly by God Himself. Elizabeth didn't exercise her tolerable qualities as much as her intolerable ones, so to their close friends, it was a miracle that Connor had not yet committed first degree murder. His buddies just assumed he was playing along for the sex, and once that burned out, he'd find his way out of his engagement.

On a rainy summer morning, Elizabeth sat in the family room of the Jones household, sitting among Mrs. Jones and her youngest daughter, Esme. All three women were doing needlework, particularly so Esme could put something in her newly-started hope chest. Mrs. Jones glared at Elizabeth from across the room while she wasn't looking. Unable to take the awkward silence, Mrs. Jones stood up. "Shall I put on some tea? Esme, where is Connor?" she asked quietly.

Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Out chopping wood with the neighbors. He's right out back, I can fetch him for you," she offered, standing up. Mrs. Jones nodded hesitantly and turned to retrieve the mail. When she spotted the tiny envelope with her son's name on it, she felt she would faint. "Connor!" she called weakly.

NaCl Father  

Esme smiled at her elder brother and nodded towards their mother, who was coming over to hand over the envelope to her son. Elizabeth watched from a distance, eyes narrowed. How dare he smile at another woman? She crossed her arms and watched her fiance open his draft card.

Mrs. Jones watched him nervously, praying it wasn't what she already knew it was.

Mrs. Jones' mouth dried. "Fight? With those traitorous Americans? Are they sending you overseas?" she questioned, coming up next to him to inspect the card. Elizabeth came up on the other side and clutched his arm. "Darling, you can't go- we're to be married in a week," she breathed, sounding genuinely offended.

Elizabeth frowned and stepped back, looking down at her hands. “I don’t see why they’re picking you, there are plenty of other men who aren’t getting married soon,” she hissed irritably, plopping down back into her chair and picking up her needlework. Esme glared at her from across the room. “How selfish can you be? It is an honor to fight for one’s country, and you’re worried about a wedding that no one even thinks should be happening!” She snapped harshly, standing up.

Mrs. Jones turned away into the kitchen to check on the tea.

Esme looked over at her brother when he instructed her sharply. She picked up her work and brushed by Elizabeth, marching upstairs to her room.

Elizabeth came over to Connor. "I just.. what if you don't come back? All that time and money.. all for naught," she sighed, rubbing his arm.

Mrs. Jones entered the room again with a platter of porcelain teacups, steaming fresh from the kettle. "Perhaps you will understand if you have any sons someday," she sighed, sitting down. "It's a mother's job to worry, but fighting will be good for him. He has a head on his shoulders, and believe it or not, he's much more clever than you give him credit for," she muttered, taking a sip of tea.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes harshly and looked back up at Connor.

i feel so bad for him bc elizabeth is so horrible and he deserves so much better :(

Elizabeth merely shook her head and turned away, leaning down to get a cup of tea. "I suppose I will have to speak with the church and alter the arrangements a bit. Put everything on hold until you return home," she sighed, picking up her needlework again.

Upstairs, Esme angrily paced her room. She never did have much alone time to beg her brother to not marry this god awful woman- no one in the Jones family was ready to accept her into their ranks and frankly, she didn't deserve it. Esme was only fourteen, but she was no child- she saw right through Elizabeth's demeanor, but she wasn't sure if her brother could.

Esme looked up at the knock. She frowned and went over, pulling the door open gently. “Yeah, come in. I’m not worried about you being angry,” she smiled slightly, sitting down at her desk to face him. “I’m sorry about that outburst. I know she’s you’re fiancee and everything, but..” she trailed off quietly.

Esme smiled slightly, grateful for his words. "I'm gonna miss you. Promise you'll find things to keep Elizabeth busy while you're gone?" she asked with a small smile on her face. And then it dropped and she looked down at her hands. "Do you love her?" she asked quietly, "or are you marrying her for money? Status? What does she have on you that's prompting this wedding?"

He did love her? Esme opened her mouth to ask what he'd meant, but he was gone so quickly. She frowned and went to light a candle to write in her journal.

Elizabeth was waiting in his room, arms crossed. As soon as he crossed the threshold, she came up behind him and closed the door. "You should learn to speak quieter, Connor. What did you talk to Esme about?" she demanded, pulling out a bag for him to pack in. She went about the room and collected a few things she figured he'd forget.

Elizabeth frowned and sat on the corner of his bed. Watching him pack seemed to put her into a panic. "Connor? I need to tell you something before you go overseas," she breathed, officially checking out of whatever sanity she had. "I'm pregnant," she told him quietly, standing up.