Post by ladygiry on Jun 23, 2006 0:02:14 GMT 9.5
Rated PG, but quite short:
Mary sat at her vanity, staring at her reflection in the mirror as she brushed out her long flaxen hair. It fell around her white shoulders in silken waves, shining in the dim candlelight as it did so, making it seem like spun gold.
Eyes the color of midnight gazed at the image reflected in the glass. How often had she been told she was beautiful? How often had the eyes of her husband and other men fallen on her with a look of lust and desire? How often had other women watched her with both jealousy and admiration? Too often it seemed.
Her beauty is what had helped get her this far and she knew it. It was her beauty that had enticed Baltus from the first moment he laid eyes on her and it was also her beauty that had gotten her into the marriage bed soon after Elizabeth Van Tassel’s death. She owed much to her pleasing appearance. But beauty was only an illusion.
That was what her mother had always taught her. Jane Archer had been a beautiful woman but she had been far from vain. Whenever someone complimented her she would bow her head modestly and murmur a quiet ‘thank you.’ But later she would turn to her two young daughters, “Remember, my girls, beauty is only an illusion. It is what’s in your heart that matters most.”
And how right she had been. Mary knew that now. But illusions could be quite assisting at times. She appeared to be the prim and beautiful wife, no more. No one could see the vengeful heart that lurked beneath the surface. And that was how she wanted it to remain.
End.
Mary sat at her vanity, staring at her reflection in the mirror as she brushed out her long flaxen hair. It fell around her white shoulders in silken waves, shining in the dim candlelight as it did so, making it seem like spun gold.
Eyes the color of midnight gazed at the image reflected in the glass. How often had she been told she was beautiful? How often had the eyes of her husband and other men fallen on her with a look of lust and desire? How often had other women watched her with both jealousy and admiration? Too often it seemed.
Her beauty is what had helped get her this far and she knew it. It was her beauty that had enticed Baltus from the first moment he laid eyes on her and it was also her beauty that had gotten her into the marriage bed soon after Elizabeth Van Tassel’s death. She owed much to her pleasing appearance. But beauty was only an illusion.
That was what her mother had always taught her. Jane Archer had been a beautiful woman but she had been far from vain. Whenever someone complimented her she would bow her head modestly and murmur a quiet ‘thank you.’ But later she would turn to her two young daughters, “Remember, my girls, beauty is only an illusion. It is what’s in your heart that matters most.”
And how right she had been. Mary knew that now. But illusions could be quite assisting at times. She appeared to be the prim and beautiful wife, no more. No one could see the vengeful heart that lurked beneath the surface. And that was how she wanted it to remain.
End.
