Although my gaze was fixed upon the water as it rushed forth as if it were late for an appointment, my heart was otherwise engaged in a very distressing matter–a matter which has placed my very constitution for happiness in grave danger.
The whispers of the impending nuptials between George Allerton, my employer and the beautiful Lydia Bridewell have been growing louder. Yesterday, I overheard Alice, the maid telling Beatrice, the cook that the wedding could be as early as a fortnight. I wanted to inquire of Mrs. Moore, the housekeeper, if this were true but thought it best not to touch on the subject for fear of betraying my feelings if she did confirm it. So, I held my tongue and suffered in silence.
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