The Burning Pen

Too Young to Live So Old
by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence.  Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately.  You are not welcome here.  The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 1

Chapter 1 ~ Thomas Horesbane

“Come along, girl. Don’t dawdle,” Agatha Brimston said to the twelve year old orphan running to keep up with her. The thin, bird-like woman with the hawkish nose hurried to the landing and descended, her charge following behind.

She was dressed in a brand new crisp gray frock and new shoes. She had no idea why she had new clothing or where Miss Brimston was taking her but it had to be someplace special. She never got anything new before.

“Don’t say anything. Just listen. If you ruin this, girl, I’ll beat you with the cane within an inch of your life…do you understand me?” Agatha hissed, “You’re the last girl of proper age.”

“Yes ma’am,” Melissa replied, following the woman down the stairs and into the hallway.

The other orphans who were doing domestic work around the orphanage looked at them as they passed but didn’t dare say anything to Melissa.

The pair stopped outside a door, and Agatha looked down at the girl, her mean little eyes narrowed and face pinched in warning.

”You only talk if you’re spoken to, understand me? And don’t spout any of your usual nonsense,” the woman hissed.

Melissa nodded, holding her lips tight together to show Miss Brimston she wouldn’t say a word.

Agatha composed herself, put on a smile and opened the door. She walked through followed by Melissa. The little brunette obediently stood beside the desk and looked at the gentleman sitting in front of it.

He was tall, with unsmiling gray eyes and tanned skin. He looked to be in his late twenties, his hair rather longish and sun-bleached. He had a long, straight nose and big hands, strong ones with veins running through them. He was dressed like a farmer, but his clothes were clean. Not a speck of dirt on them. He held a wide brimmed hat on his lap. He looked at Melissa.

“This is Melissa Wright, Mr. Horesbane. She’s twelve years old, almost thirteen and a hard worker. She’s been with us since the age of four. She was brought to us when her parents were slaughtered by savages in a raid on their farm. We never found their bodies, just the blood. Melissa was hidden in a sack in the root cellar. We’ve always suspected she’s a half-blood Indian, because of her skin tone. Some men might not like that, but you are looking for someone to work, aren’t you? She’s a hard worker…and not hard on the eyes. She will do whatever you say,” Miss Brimston said, her eyes glittering a bit.

Thomas Horesbane eyed Melissa. She was a bit on the dark side, but that meant she might not burn too badly in the fields. She was small though. He looked at her face. At least she didn’t have that eager look as if she were going on an adventure the other girls did. This was no adventure. This was hard work. He didn’t need anyone who he had to coddle.

“You like it here?” Thomas asked her shortly.

Melissa glanced at Agatha, who gave her a tight-lipped look of warning.

”Yes sir. I like it here just fine,” she said.

Thomas considered her, then his gray eyes flicked up to Agatha.

”I want to talk to the girl alone,” he said to the woman.

He didn’t particularly care for Agatha Brimston. There was something predatory about her, something…something harsh and cold. The fact that she was willing to sell him a little girl under the guise of a donation made him feel a bit uncomfortable. But he needed a wife to help him, and the younger they were the better they adapted to the hard life of a farmer’s wife.

Agatha gave him the slightest frown.

”Mr. Horesbane, I would be lax in my duties if I were to leave the girl alone with you. She is not your wife yet,” the woman snapped.

Melissa’s eyes widened. Wife? This man wanted to marry her? She looked at him again. He didn’t smile much…she could tell. And he was so old.

“I don’t want to get mar..” she said, her comment cut off by a sharp slap across the mouth by Agatha.

”Didn’t I tell you not to speak unless spoken to?” she hissed at the girl.

Melissa didn’t cry but looked stoically straight ahead, her mouth stinging. Thomas was frowning now.

“I guess you don’t want that donation then,” he said, starting to rise and place his hat on his head.

Agatha stepped forward, wringing her hands. She did want that money.

“I can give you five minutes, Mr. Horesbane. I am going to trust that you won’t do anything improper,” she said, then walked out into the hall and stood near the door, listening intently.

Thomas looked at the young girl standing stiffly by the desk. She didn’t cry out when she was slapped by Agatha. She must either be used to it, or had a tolerance for pain.

”I’m looking for a wife,” he said to the girl, “If I take you, you’ll have my name, a home, food and shelter. My home will be your home…if anything happens to me, it will pass on to you…as will my land and whatever money I have. But I need someone who isn’t afraid of hard work. That means cooking and cleaning for me, washing my clothes, helping with the animals and in the fields. And I will expect children…”

Here the young man hesitated.

”…in time. What do you think of that?”

Melissa looked back toward the door and saw Agatha’s shadow through the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. She looked back at Thomas.

”I’m not supposed to think, just do what I’m told,” she replied carefully.

“But you do think, don’t you?” Thomas asked her, his gray eyes studying her.

”I’m not supposed to,” she said in a quieter voice, not wanting to lie to the farmer, but trying to avoid the question, “I just do what I’m told to do.”

Thomas stared at the girl. Despite what she said, her brown eyes were intelligent…not vacant or silly. Yes…she did think. Most likely hard and often.

”You want to stay in this place?” he asked her.

“I’ll go where I’m told to go,” Melissa said, her eyes shifting back toward the door, “It doesn’t matter what I want. It never did.”

Thomas sighed.

”Well, it matters now. I don’t want to take a wife that doesn’t want what I’m offering her. So you have to tell me if you want to come with me or not,” he said, his eyes leveled on her.

Agatha scowled blackly. He wasn’t supposed to ask the girl what she wanted. He was supposed to look her over like a piece of horseflesh and decide if he wanted her.

Melissa hesitated and Thomas scowled at her.

”If you don’t want to come, just say so,” he said darkly.

”You’re…you’re so old,” she said suddenly, then covered her mouth with her hand.

She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Agatha snarled. She was going to beat the little heifer until her arm got tired. How could she be so stupid?

Thomas sat up a bit straighter.

”Melissa, I’m twenty-seven years old. That seems old to you but let me tell you something. Out here, wives are taken young because the work is so hard. Most men that take them are older than me and on their second or third wife. I mean in their forties and fifties, and they work them until they drop. I’m not the kind of man that will put you out in the fields alone…or…or beat you. Now, you can decide to stay here and wait for some old farmer who wants a slave rather than a wife, or end up working in the cathouse when you turn fourteen, or you can go with me and have a chance at a decent life. Now you tell me, and you tell me right now if you want to stay here or not,” the farmer said, his eyes hard.

Melissa thought about Miss Brimston standing on the other side of the door, probably planning on beating her until her body was covered in welts. Then she thought about somebody even older than Thomas taking her away. She didn’t know what a cathouse was, but by the way he said it, it couldn’t be anything good.

“I’ll go with you,” she said shortly.

Thomas nodded.

”You can come in now, Miss Brimston,” he said loudly.

Agatha hurried into the room, looking delighted.

“I’ll take her,” he said.

”That’s wonderful. I’m sure she’ll be an obedient wife,” the woman gushed as the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bag.

Melissa watched as Agatha took the bag from him and opened it, pouring the contents into her hand. It wasn’t money but rough looking pieces of gold. Nuggets.

”Take her,” Agatha said, not lifting her eyes from the nuggets in her palm.

Thomas looked at Melissa.

“You got anything you want to bring?” he asked the girl.

“Just some…books,” she said, her voice quavering. Miss Brimston didn’t like her with books. Agatha looked up sharply.

“You don’t need books where you’re going!” she snapped at her, putting the nuggets back into the bag and placing the bag in the pocket of her severe black dress.

”But they’re mine!” Melissa said, her eyes starting to water now.

Thomas noticed this. The girl wouldn’t cry when slapped in her mouth, but would when it came to her books.

Agatha’s face screwed up.

“How dare you talk back to me!” she cried, raising her hand to slap Melissa and found her wrist caught in a rather painful grip as Thomas grabbed it.

”You won’t be hitting her anymore. She’s mine now. Go get your books, girl,” he said to Melissa, who looked at him gratefully, then exited the room at a run.

He let go of Agatha’s wrist. The woman rubbed it gingerly.

”She needs to be disciplined,” Agatha explained, “She’s a hard-headed little thing. Thinks more of herself than she should. Always reading like she’s going to be somebody. She needs those kinds of notions knocked out of her. It will be easier on you if you remember that, Mr. Horesbane.”

Thomas gave the woman a measuring look.

”I think you’ve knocked that little girl around enough in eight years,” he said coldly, “Nothing wrong with a little reading.”

Agatha suddenly gave him an ugly look, then walked over to the far wall and slid a picture aside. A safe was behind it. She twisted the tumbler in the proper combination, opened the safe, deposited the nuggets then closed it back, sliding the picture back over the space. Then she turned to him. He couldn’t take the nuggets back now.

“Little girl? How long will she be that, Mr. Horesbane? What you’re going to do to that child will make my occasional beatings nothing,” she said with a nasty smirk, “She’s going to be your wife. She doesn’t know all it means. Cooking, cleaning, working in the fields. You didn’t tell her about her ‘night duties’ Mr. Horesbane. You didn’t tell her about that.”

Thomas looked at the woman, his face contorted. He was about to reply when Melissa returned clutching two slim books to her chest. She looked at the two adults. They looked angry and the air in the room was heavy with dislike.

Thomas looked at her.

“You ready?” he asked Melissa.

She nodded.

“Come on then,” he said, putting on his wide brimmed hat and striding from the room, leaving the door open behind him.

Melissa looked at Agatha, who frowned at her

“Goodbye Miss Brimston,” Melissa said politely.

”Good riddance, you stupid girl,” the woman snapped back at her, “And if you ruin your situation, don’t expect me to take you back. You’re on your own. The only place you can go now is the cathouse. Now get out!”

Melissa backed up out of the room, bumping into Thomas who had reappeared in the doorway. He looked down at her. He was so tall he seemed like a giant.

”Come on girl. We have to get to the Justice of the Peace,” he said, striding away.

Melissa followed, knowing life was about to change dramatically.

She only hoped it was for the better.

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A/N: At first I was going to take Hermione and Severus out of JKR’s world and put them in this one, but decided it might make an interesting original story in the future. I couldn’t seem to work on either Sahara or Secret today…writer’s block I guess, so I wrote this instead. Comments welcome.

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