Emily - A Victorian Girl

“Are you coming?” came the shrill and slightly annoyed voice of her younger sister from behind the door. And a loud, impatient knock followed. She’d probably been calling for a while from downstairs and was starting to loose her patience, but was it Emily’s fault that she heard the call only now? Only now did her sister’s sudden knock awaken Emily from her reveries and pull her harshly back into reality.

“Come on! We still have to run through the last scene, and there’s only a few days left before Mama’s birthday!” came the voice of Reason and Responsibility. Emily sighed heavily, wishing only that everyone would just leave her be, alone and happy with just her books and thoughts for company. Couldn’t they find someone else to fill her role in the play? That comic character of a fat baker’s wife was completely uninspiring to her at the moment. Not her dirty sense of humor nor her silly laughter. Not at this moment, when all Emily could think about were the beautiful verses of Elizabeth Barrett Browning. It was a mere coincidence that she found a book of her poems, dusty and seemingly forgotten, on one of the top shelves in her father’s library. Who knew that such abstract concepts as life, love, and loss could be so beautifully portrayed in words, and by who, a woman! Oh how Emily longed to write like this! Maybe one day books of her own poems would make their way across the country…or maybe even beyond, inspiring other young women to be brave and trust their own feelings…

Suddenly the door opened and in flew the sister, a long black cape trailing behind her as she, for a moment, forgot her role of serene and gentle priest. “That’s it! Either you join us now or you’ll be running your own show when Papa comes back!” No one could argue with that last threat. Their father's strictness was a well-known fact. Reluctantly closing her book, Emily followed her sister out of her room. Out of her dreamland.

Sheer silk and vintage French lace.....

Beautiful silk.....