The Glass-Carver's Daughter started out as a short story for a writing class and then a project for the National November Writing Month or NaNoWriMo. I never actually got it finished, but the characters intrigue me and I'm still working on it. All of my characters are fictional as are the places. I have a lot of research still to be done so any mistakes or added features in the art of glass carving are of my own imagining.
Synopsis- Only daugther of a famous glass-carver, Marionette has inherited more than just a bit of his talent. Desiring to follow in her father's footsteps and join the Art Guild, she leaves her father's house to open her own place. In a time when single women have almost no rights at all, she discovers obstacles at every turn. With mounting tension between her and her father and the Guilds continuous disapproval of her work, Marionette is losing not only her supplies, but her connections with the Peerage on whom she depends. With only her determination and a few constant friends, Marionette plans to prove that she is more than just the Glass-Carver's Daughter.
The Glass-Carver's Daughter-
From Chapter 1
Diluted light flittered through the holes of the ratty curtains. Spilling across scattered pieces of colored glass, it created a private rainbow to the room’s sole occupant. Rubbing her sleep swollen eyes, Marionette rose slowly from the low table she had fallen asleep on- stretching her tired body back into a straight line. Another night gone and still no closer to finishing even one of the ten projects due at the end of the month. If only she had someone to help her run the trinket shop below so she could finish the work ordered by her more affluent customers. Marionette sighed as she slowly rose from the stool. Taking care not to step on any of the designs rolled up at her feet, she slowly made her way to the small stove in the corner of the room. A hot cup of coffee would help her push the dark thoughts away.
She wasn’t working alone for lack of trying. She had been advertising for an assistant since she’d moved in almost a year ago. Unfortunately, even the most likely applicants had let her down. Some wanted more money than she could currently afford, others skimmed money from the drawer and her favorite, a man - who reminded her of her father- had tried to take her shop from her. He had even gone so far as to accuse her of trying to steal the shop from him! Luckily, the police had known him and had returned him immediately to the asylum from where he’d escaped two months prior. After that, she had held off hiring- working hard to pay rent and keep her head above water- at least until friends of her late mother began to drop by. High society ladies, too proud to provide a mother-less young girl with any sort of motherly comfort, heard she had struck out on her own and came to buy or commission pieces of her stained glass artwork. And of course, once one of the matrons displayed a new piece of art, everyone just had to have one.
She had received so many requests, Marionette had been driven to write to both the Herald and the Esterly and request another ad be taken out in both papers. She had even gone so far as to try and gain an apprentice or two from the local art guild. The Guild, however, had refused- claiming she was still too new and untried talent wise to be handed any young mind so soon. Marionette frowned as she poured the hot water into her mug. She highly doubted it was her lack of experience, but more her father’s influence and weight that had brought them to their conclusion. Her father, Sir Martin St. John, had become the heart of the Glass Art community. His work stood everywhere, even in the Palace of Whitsummer. As a child, she had stood in the doorway of his work room, watching his fingers scrape the glass into perfect shape, molding the frame into just the right fit so that the design in glass could shine.
He had retired over two years ago- his hands and heart no longer fit to deal with the stress and activity the glass art required. That did not stop him from having a say in the Guilds activities though. The man still went to every meeting and still had the most power to affect votes dealing with issues that affected the art community. And that included keeping his own daughter from gaining the necessary help to run her own business because he felt she should be at some pampered high society git’s side, running his home and caring for his children instead of fulfilling her own dreams.
She snorted, forgetting the coffee mug was at her lips. Hot liquid sprayed over her face as the cup dropped to the ground. Muttering to herself, Marionette rushed to the water basin. Splashing cold water over her now tender skin, she wondered how long it would take her to forget about the man. Just as she began to dry the water from her face, the bell below started ringing. Sighing, she walked to the window, throwing the rag in her hands onto the coffee mess as she went. She would have to mop it up correctly later. Customers were quite picky when they wanted to order things, regardless of whether she was open or not. She pushed the curtains aside, poking her head out the window to stare at the store steps below.
A man with graying hair stood below her. In one hand, he held a plain brown cap, his other on the bell string. Under his left arm, Marionette could make out the edges of a newspaper and rolled her eyes. Surely, if the man wanted a position he would do as the advertisement suggested and go to Carver’s at the end of the first row. Harold Carver, the local tailor, had become a good friend to her since her arrival and had suggested he interview this round of prospects first.
Being the only single female on the lane of shops and poor end apartments, the families around her and the other members of the shopping district on their street had insisted she take his offer. As Mrs. Hardy, the laundress across the way, had told her- over the sounds of the eight boys in her care- “Ain’t right for ya to be doin’ that work when ya gots a shop to run. Let the man with time do it and save yaself the trouble. He knows how to pick good people that one does.”
Marionette smiled, remembering Carver’s face when she’d accepted. He had been so pleased; he’d almost fallen off the bench he’d been sitting on. The man below her rang the bell again and Marionette sighed.
“I’ll be down in a moment, sir.”
The man dropped the rope quickly. He looked up and Marionette smiled. Waving her left hand to the side, she called. “If you could just go around to the side, sir? I’m not quite ready for the day to begin and if anyone sees that door open, I’ll be swarmed before I’m ready.”
The man nodded. Marionette waited until he was out of sight before ducking back into the room. Quickly, she closed the curtains and- ignoring the towel on the floor- hurriedly threw on different clothes before clambering down the wooden steps to the side door. Unlatching all three of the locks Mr. Arnold, the locksmith, had insisted on installing took a few moments, but then the man stood before her- his features hidden by the morning shadows of the alley he stood in.
Marionette paused to look around the man, determining if he was really alone or not. Nathan Arnold, the locksmith’s son, stood at the end of the alley. At her quick nod, he moved closer to her store. Newcomers this early in the morning were often after more than just a job, and she was grateful she had the neighbors she did. Stepping aside, Marionette allowed the man to enter. As he passed her, Marionette waved Nate closer to the side of the building. She would leave the door open, but she wanted the young man close enough to get inside before anything serious happened if she needed him.
“It’s a little early for anyone to come shopping in this end of town.” Marionette remarked as she turned from the door. “What can I do for you?”
“How do you know I’m not asking to buy something?” The man grumbled in answer.
Marionette smiled as she turned up the lamp on the table next to her. “Surely, sir, you don’t expect me to believe a man carrying nothing but a hat and newspaper has come this early to buy something from a glass shop?”
“I could be here to rob you.”
Marionette shook her head again. Moving to another lamp in the room, she said, confidently, “Highly unlikely as I’m sure you already noticed the people watching you as you started up this small alley. I have friends here and none of them would have allowed you to this door if you were dangerous.”
"I could rob more than just money from you," the man growled.
Marionette could feel his eyes on her as she moved through the room. “No, you couldn’t. I have learned to take care of myself and as I said I have many friends here. You’d never be able to take from me anything I didn’t readily give.” Satisfied with the lighting, she turned to face him and straightened to her full height unable to believe her eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
Renee 2009
