I thought it was going to be a regular summer, doing all of our regular things, until I died. My name was Elizabeth. I lived in the Victorian Era. I didn’t realize how little I knew about the world, until I finally was exposed to it.

“Elizabeth, you must be sure to smile politely, and to not speak unless spoken to, do you understand?” My father said before we were to go to town. I was getting to the age that my father thought appropriate for courting, so we had daily visits to the richer parts of town, where my dad found suitable young men to introduce me to.

“Yes, Father, I understand,” I replied with what my father called angelic tongue. I never understood that, but I know now that he meant that my voice was like an angel’s, sweet and clear.

“Good. Now, remember that you must keep your gloves clean, we don’t want another incident do we?” Oh, yes. Last month, I had tripped and when I fell, my gloves slightly grayed, and my father had me taken home immediately while he searched for a new pair.

“No, Father, we shall not have another incident.”

“Good, now off we go!” My father always got excited with these visits, which I never understood. It was me who we were finding someone to court, not him, he had mother. But he always got excited when we met a man with a good, honest job with good pay, while I got excited when we met a nice, handsome gentleman. The latter wasn’t necessarily what my father was looking for.

As we pulled into town, I saw that a crowd of young men had already formed, awaiting our arrival. I had always thought it was to see the beautiful horses and carriage, but I now know it was to see me. My mother had raised me in such a way as to not notice how men had always looked at me in awe, and to see my long, beautiful hair, petite frame, and perfect face in a vain way. 

As we stepped out of the carriage, one man in particular caught my eye…

“Ah, here’s a good young lad,” my father exclaimed, his eyes locking on a man with a mean snarl and round belly that he knew to be the mayor’s only child. As I follow my father, I give the man that caught my eye one last glance, and noticed that he was looking back at me, giving me a sad smile. That was how every day went. That man was Nicelo Rodriguez. Born to a poor family, but found a way to make a living for himself and his family, bringing them up in society to the bottom of the higher class. Father did not believe that people that weren’t at or above our level were good. He believed them to be like pigs who ate our leftovers like slop.

“Yes, you will do well. Elizabeth, hurry over here and meet Mr. John Wellington,” my father demanded. I quickened my graceful pace and reached them.

“Hello Miss Richards, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. Wow, the descriptions your father has given me of your beauty do not do you justice,” Mr.Wellington said. 

“Thank you, Mr.Wellington, you are too kind,” I say, molding my face into a fake smile. 

“Please, call me John.”

Our conversations went on like this for two months, until my father finally informed me of the wedding. I was to be wed to Mr. John Wellington on the fifth of June, and become Mrs. John Wellington. No more would I be able to meet with Nicelo. How would I tell him? He had told me no more than a week ago that he wished to court me, already knowing that I was soon to be engaged to John. I decided not to tell him until a few weeks after the wedding.

“Nicelo, as you know, I haven’t been able to meet for a while,” I start.

“Yes, I know. And what a sorrow,” he responded.

“The reason is, I was wed to Mr.Wellington last month.”

“And you never thought to tell me? What a shame. It would have been so much easier if you had told me…” he trailed off. That is the last thing I remember from my short 18 years alive. I can imagine that he murdered me in rage of the marriage. But I will never know. That was how my regular summer, turned into a not so regular summer in many different ways.