Weeping

Take ye wives, and beget sons and daughters;

and take wives for your sons, and give your daughters to husbands,

that they may bear sons and daughters;

that ye may be increased there, and not diminished.

Jeremiah 29:6

Miss Hadassah Natalia Cynthia Pentrose walked a bit stiffly down the hallway, desperately willing her face to remain calm, opened the door to her room, closed the door to her room, and, abandoning all self-control, cast herself upon her bed, weeping bitterly. “My life is over! Oh, how could Papa do it?”

An observer might have wondered how anyone in her position could have had anything to complain about. She was wearing an elegant muslin day gown in the very latest fashion, its cheery pink tones exactly suiting her complexion. The bed she had cast herself onto was large, with a heavy canopy and curtains.

The rest of the room was done in a solid, dark wood, which style Miss Pentrose had always loved. On either side of the bed were two tall oak bookcases filled with books. Or, they would have been filled except for Miss Pentrose’s habit of taking a book, starting it, and leaving it lying on her desk, which desk her servants were forbidden from touching.

Along the walls were paintings, not masterworks but nicely done, street scenes, one of Paris and two of Rome.

The room had two full-length windows opening toward a large sloping lawn. The lawn in this direction fell gently into a creek. Beyond the creek, rising gently, was a woodland. Miss Pentrose loved those woods and had, earlier this very afternoon, been playing in those woods in a fashion that she was sure her mother would have been quite appalled at. She had even climbed a tree!

The young lady herself matched the room. While still given to various juvenile pursuits, such as climbing trees, swimming, and racing local youth, physically, she presented herself as every inch a young woman. Even her nose, which she considered her worst feature, was just a trifle smaller than fashion allowed and, although she didn’t know it, was the feature that young men said they admired the most.

She had been lying on her bed and weeping for a few minutes when an older woman in a maid uniform came in the door from the dressing room, carrying a pile of linen. She had been hired as a mere chambermaid ever so long ago, but over the years, her position had evolved into something much closer to a nurse or companion. Her birth did not permit any such declaration to be made however, and she cheerfully did the work that a chambermaid would do and dressed in that style.

She gave one look at the weeping lass, put the linen down on the table, and stood, hands on her hips. “Come, child, do not carry on so.”

“But Esther, you cannot know what has happened!” the young lady wailed.

“Certainly I know, Child. I have known for two weeks. There is little in the house that we servants do not know, and this particular secret has been the subject of much gossip.”

The girl sat up and cast a shocked face at her friend. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me?”

“Yes, I knew. And certainly, I didn’t tell you. That was for your father to do. And for all I knew it might have fallen through.”

“But… Esther! I am to be married and to such a horrible man.”

The young woman collapsed on the bed again, her hands over her head, so the maid allowed herself a quick roll of her eyes before resuming her impassive expression. Then she picked up the linen again and, going to the wardrobe, said, “Surely there is nothing shocking in getting married, Dear. And certainly not anything to carry on so. And I’m surprised you put so much stock in gossip. It isn’t like you. Now get up; we must get you dressed for dinner. Your family and new husband will expect your finest tonight of all nights.”

The girl, dutifully if not cheerfully, rose and went to the middle of the room where her maid untied and lifted off her dress. “You say there is nothing shocking about my betrothal, but I think it is quite shocking when a young woman is sold to an older gentleman, even if I shouldn’t have listened to the gossip about him.

“ I was never so shocked in my life when, after a very quick speech by Papa, this man I didn’t even know took my hand and put a ring on it! There I was, bought and sold! I didn’t open my mouth the whole time!”

“How you carry on. As if every one of your class didn’t have great discussions of marriage portions and gifts of land and the like before they got married. Even we of the lower class discuss the prospects of a young man who wishes a wife and, indeed, his prospects are often improved by his marriage. Why, just last week, a young man of our very village married a young woman to secure an apprenticeship.”

“So you cannot blame your father in the least for seeing this match as ideal. The man is rich, he is titled, and you are their last daughter. You know that your father has been declining; surely he wanted to see you well settled before he passed on.”

“But, how am I to go on with life?” She couldn’t imagine her father passing on for a good many years yet, however much he did complain about his joints. And it wasn’t her fault that she had been the last of seven daughters!

“One day at a time, as we all do,” the maid said, putting the dress aside. “Now wash your face, Dear, you are a horrid mess.”

The girl gave one glance in the mirror over her dressing table and hurried to the basin. “But, you know that is not what I meant. What am I to do?”

“Dear…” the maid began to say, tempted to get angry with her young charge, but then she thought better of what she had been going to say. “Well, at the very least, Dear, you now know what the Lord’s will is for you, at least for the next few years.”

Hadassah turned to her. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Dry your face, Dear; you are dripping on your clothes.”

“What I mean,” she said as the girl took the towel and stared at her, “Is that you now know what God would have you do. You have been given a hard challenge, I doubt not, but at least it is clear.”

“You don’t mean… run away?”

“What? Escape to London and get caught up with a disreputable ruffian and live miserably in a hovel for a few years until you die penniless in childbirth, leaving behind snot-nosed wraiths? No, I certainly don’t mean that.”

“I mean… come here dear… I mean that you now have the opportunity to demonstrate how a Christian wife behaves toward an unbelieving husband.”

“Oh, well, I never said… I’ve never heard that he is actually an atheist!” she replied, shocked. “I’m sure Papa would never have betrothed me to such a man as that!

“He is just… oh, the stories my friends tell… he gambles and keeps mistresses! He is rarely to home and treats his peasants poorly.

“And he is so old! I’m to be his second wife; his first was carried off by the flu two years ago after what everyone tells me was an unhappy, cold, childless marriage. Oh, I know, most of society thinks that his age makes him more suitable: more stable, wiser, more experienced than I am. Just the perfect man to guide a flighty youth.”

“If everyone that you respect says something, dear, I think you need to pay it some attention at the very least. Now, we won’t discuss his spiritual state, although I am not sure that merely not being an atheist is the level of spiritual maturity I think you should hope for in a husband, but, as I said, all of this certainly makes your way clear. You need to go to God and ask him to make you a joyful, obedient wife in your new circumstances. And, certainly, to begin praying for your new husband.”

“Hush now and calm yourself; we must finish getting you ready. Your stays have become loose. Stand still.”

Thank you for coming round Arthur’s Substack. I hope and pray it will be a blessing to you.

Arthur publishes with Wise Path Books and include the children’s/YA books:

The Bobtails meet the Preacher’s Kid

The Bobtails and the Cousins

The Bobtails go to France

and

No Ordinary School

As well as GK Chesterton’s wonderful book, “What’s Wrong with the World”, for which ‘Arthur’ wrote most of the annotations.

Quite a few chapters of the Bobtails and No Ordinary School are here on this substack as audio.

I also write as Von, and I encourage you to check out that substack. There is a lot of theology and politics there, as well as quotes, poems, other articles, and links to other Science Fiction. But ‘Von’ also is publishing some serial books and stories. Much more adult and serious books than here, for the most part. Some of them.

Von is publishing the stories:

Contract Marriage

Contract marriage is an adult dystopia examining the issues of marriage. Like 1984 and Brave New World, Contract Marriage treats the relations between the sexes as a fundamental aspect of how a society is formed and, thus, how a society can go wrong.

Unlike those dystopias, Contract Marriage isn’t all horrible all of the time. The characters for the most part have a good time and get along in their society. But the issues of sexuality, of marriage or not, monogamy or not, faithfulness or not, and gender roles… keep coming up and causing tension and conflict and joy and pain.

My desire is that my readers would be thinking along with my characters about these issues and perhaps even arrive at the same place (minus the flying cars).

Article 17

Article 17 is a military science fiction story with aliens and romance. It is set in a future reminiscent of Napoleon era Britain. The war was going very poorly until the military installed a dictator. This story follows one of the dictator’s great men: Cladin Tomirosh, Leader, and thrice decorated hero.

Island People

Island People is a young adult fantasy book centring on a young prince. The book starts with his kidnapping and follows his adventures as he not only escapes from his kidnapper but gains critical allies and friends.

The entire book is scheduled on Substack, and there are several sequels. This is a book I wrote years ago, so it is in a bit of a rough form. Critiques and comments are more than welcome, they are requested.

…and his story ‘The Oracle’ is in haitus, but there are some chapters there. Feel free to check them out.

God Bless you as you read, and may you do all to the glory of God.