Mary On A Cross

The young blond haired girl sat on the floor as she played with her wooden blocks and other toys sitting around her. The chestnut floor still smelled faintly of lilac, from the staff mopping it earlier in the day. Mary sat in the entry hall, the front door rounded at the top with several little windows that let light into the room, as well as a couple of windows on either side of the door along the wall. On the opposite side side a large brick and mortar fireplace, which was not currently lit. The staircase to the upstairs was doubled, one on either side of the fireplace. At the perpendicular walls were the two archways, leading to the rest of the house.

Mary’s father, William Hawke, had in the last decade become one of the most important and prestigious political figures in England. After gaining his duties, William moved his family from Oldbury, to the rich side of town in old Birmingham.

Her mother was a woman of great status as well. Coming from a higher family in Cambridge, Seraphine met William Hawke at many exclusive events. Once they became well acquainted, as he would put it, they were engaged and married shortly after. Since moving to Birmingham into their estate with their newborn daughter, her mother regularly attended Birmingham Catholic Church. William was, however, unable to attend with his busy and stressful schedule. Nor did Mary come, Seraphine fearing embarrassment of having a daughter that didn’t act as a doll, perfect, quiet, and still.

William frequently found himself breaking away from family events to handle matters that needed immediate attention. There was an obvious separation between him and his family, which made Mary primarily in the care of her mother. Seraphine Hawke seemed like an angelic woman on the surface, making her husband believe there was nothing to fear when it came to his daughter’s care. However, Seraphine wasn’t anything of the sort. She kept Mary in a tight hold, exerting her own control over the easily influenced little girl.

That is what Mary had. Everyone loved her parents, like they lived in a perfect dollhouse. But she grew numb, slowly, to her mother’s force, breaking the hope she had of being a normal child. If she cried, she was spanked and cried more. If she showed confidence, her mother struck it down, and would say, “Not good enough, my dear.” Mary didn’t even try to hug her mother anymore when her stomach hurt from something she ate.

Seraphine came into the hallway, seeing her toddler daughter on the floor playing. “No! I can’t have you there when the priest comes,” she says quickly. She went to pick up Mary, who didn’t complain, before being sat onto the futon in the living area. Seraphine then went to go clean up the toys that were on the floor, moving them to the box they were kept in.

Her mother dusted away at her shoulder, acting as if the simple chore had gotten her dirty. But it wasn’t the dress that was dirty.

A knock sounded at the door. Seraphine looked her daughter up and down, Mary cowering under her mother’s gaze. “You will do. For me. But that will be up to Father Grayson. Gracy!”

The old maid came to my mother’s call. Seraphine nodded at the door, before Gracy went to open the door, revealing a man dressed in black. “Lady Hawke, you look perfect as always.” She gave a slight nod before gesturing towards her daughter.

“Father Grayson, this is my daughter Mary. Mary, this is Father Joseph Grayson.” He turned from Seraphine to Mary. She looked bigger than the last time he had seen her, maybe a little more than a year ago. Father Grayson had talked with Seraphine several times before to have her bring little Mary to church, she was adamant it would be a distraction, and Mary needed to focus on skills to become a lady of higher status, just as she was. It made him irritated, but he kept his mouth shut.

Father Joseph Grayson had studied in Rome to become an official in the church before he met Mrs. Hawke. Then he went into priesthood, serving the community with spiritual guidance. And within that time, he had become close to the Hawke family. The funny thing was that he only allowed Seraphine to continue going to the church to eventually have Mary come. Despite what he knew of her mother. He’d made some progress on being closer to Mary. A few months ago, he baptized Mary, giving her a friendly introduction to church.

“She’s beautiful,” he muttered, Mary wiggly her legs a little over the edge of the couch boredly. Seraphine cleared her throat, reminding Mary to stop any unnecessary movements. Father Grayson then turned to her mother, putting on his charming smile. “I think she’s ready to attend church, don’t you think?”

Seraphine stiffened slightly before relaxing, and smiling at him. “Yes! She’s been doing very well. She’ll start next Sunday.” Hearing this made Mary and Father Grayson very happy. Mary wasn’t allowed out of the house very often, and she would get to see the friendly man she had only met maybe once, at least from what she could recall in her young mind.

Father Grayson said his goodbyes and left for the day, smirking as he exited the front door. Later that evening, Seraphine came to her daughter to bring her food. Mary smiled, seeing the small blueberry muffin that sat at the corner of the plate. She loved her staff’s cooking. Her mother tried it early on, but after her father complained, she added it to the chores of the staff. Muffins were Mary’s favorite, especially when they were fresh from the oven.

When she went to reach for the muffin, Seraphine grabbed her daughter’s wrist roughly, making her whimper. “Mommy!”

“Shush,” Seraphine growled, before she grabbed the muffin off of the plate. “If you’re going to be going to church, you need to think about some of the things you do God hates.” Seraphine held up the muffin to her daughter’s face. “No more sweets. Gluttony is your sin, dear daughter...”

Her mother left the room, leaving Mary with a plate of potted meat and roasted vegetables. It wasn’t horrible food, but knowing her mother took something else that gave her the littlest amount of joy broke her heart a little more. A tear slipped down her cheek as she ate her food silently.

(SECOND REVISION)