Chapter one of Chimerical Victorianism

1. Plebeian Beginnings

2. Tilden Bellworthe stared out into the distance, admiring his new plot of
land. Not long ago he had left college in England and moved to the
newly bustling town of Coleridge. Property was becoming far too
expensive for anyone who wanted to own a decent amount of land, and
not just an apartment, so he decided to set off—alone—on a journey to a
place he had only seen on a map.

3. He sighed in the fresh country air. Miles of plain, grassy acreage could be
seen, and the grass was lush with good soil for crops. No longer did he
feel constricted by the busy streets of Victorian England. There were a
few cozy, colorful, and well-situated homes near his land, but they felt
friendly and pleasant. Not a single plant or brewery producing coal or
soot was polluting the air with its black steam. Just clean blue skies.

4. His abode wasn’t much, but he was better off than quite a few of the
young men his age, fresh out of the university. He had just enough money
to build a small cottage with a main room (kitchen, dining, living), a
restroom, a bedroom, and even a small spare room which could turn into
a guest room or a nursery—if so required. Thankfully, he had well
enough money to build a garden and fence it in with walls made of stone.

5. Once his residence was built, the first thing he did was head straight into
the garden. While he wasn’t so poverty stricken that he was living in
utter destitution (you know, sleeping on a stack of hay, living in a single-
roomed flat, having little or no amenities), Tilden was by no means well
off enough to be considered in the middle class—he was no where above
the mid-lower class, so he had no means of seeking employment. He also
had no one to recommend him since he left his old life behind entirely.

6. Coleridge was one of those towns that are just large enough to be
considered a fully functioning society—donning farms, downtowns,
apartments, markets, shopping districts, slums, universities, and even a
few mountain and waterside resorts, but just small enough that everyone
knew everyone, that there was an extreme sense of social classism, and
that one would stick out like a sore thumb when first moving in. All three
of his closest neighbors were no sooner on his doorstep than the second
the house was complete and there were signs of residence.

7. A bit of background on these neighbors may perhaps be acceptable.
Here we have Rosetta Beckett. The Becketts are undeniably at the top
of the social ladder, and this is the current woman of the house, her
husband being Nathaniel Beckett. Their eldest daughter, Alina Shay
Phaedra Hamilton, lives in the green farmhouse shown above.

8. Fairleigh Roylett lives in the cozy burgundy home across the street. She
is what we would call The Cat Lady of the Victorian Era. She lives
alone, paying the bills as a cat breeder. Evidently she makes quite a
living off of her cats, because her home has a waterfront view.

9. Magnus Fitzden, also being newly graduated, except from the recently
prestigious Bascom-Coleridge Elite College, lives in the tiny blue cottage
to the left of Tilden’s property. He lives there with his young wife,
Isalynn Skyden, who is related to the Becketts through a long list of
confusion.

10. Fairleigh gave a sidelong glance towards Rosetta as the pair walked
around the side of the house in search for its owner.
“Mrs. Beckett.” She nodded in polite acknowledgment.
“Good morrow, Miss Roylett.” The pair, although despite living so
close to each other (the Becketts live in the pink house), have actually
only met on a few occasions. As we have implied, Fairleigh doesn’t get
out much.

11. The trio found the owner inside his stoned-in garden, toiling away over
the ground. All of the spoils of awkwardly newfound introductions were
gained at that moment, and the reader will be spared of their pettiness.
Not much more needs to be said other than the fact that Fairleigh was
quite awkward, Magnus still had the demeanor of a college school boy,
and Rosetta was entirely pleasant. All three found the newcomer to be
quite amiable.

12. Although Tilden was eager to gain their acquaintances, he had to rush
off to the spring in his backyard. As he had just moved in on the very
morning, he had yet to trek into the marketplace to buy food, nor did he
quite have the money for it, Tilden was required to fish for that night’s
supper. And the supper for the night after that and the night after that.

13. “Do you mind if I join you? There were a few spare rods leaning
against your fence.” Rosetta walked up, smiled, and began to bait her
hook, hardly waiting for an answer in the fashion that most upper class
aristocrats are accustomed to doing.
Tilden hardly took note of the fact. “Go right ahead. I would love some
company.”

14. “Oh! I’ve never been good at fishing!” Tilden’s companion sighed in
defeat as she pulled an old boot off of her hook.
Tilden laughed lightly. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve already caught five
since I moved in this morning. If the area weren’t so clean and pleasant
I would be convinced this was built atop of a landfill.”
Giggling at the thought, Rosetta began fishing again.

15. It wasn’t long until the rest of Tilden’s company decided to join him,
although there was only one fishing rod left, and Magnus was forced to
stand there awkwardly and watch.

16. Thankfully, Tilden’s hard work fishing in the spring came to some use.
Although he really did catch fives boots, he luckily managed to hook one
edible fish, which turned into a delectable—but burnt—meal.

17. Tilden was finishing up his trout when Rosetta walked in. “Would you
mind if I sat down for a while? It’s awfully hot out there.”
“Have a seat, I’ll get you some fish.” He nodded and went to clean his
plate and fetch another for his guest.

18. “So how is Coleridge treating you?” Rosetta questioned.
Tilden gave a bit of a shrug as he opened the fridge. “I hardly know.
I’ve only met three people and haven’t been able to venture into town
yet.”
“It’s a nice enough place.” Rosetta commented. “Most people find it easy
to prosper here. If you’re hard working you don’t stay poor for very
long.”

19. “How long have you been here?”
Rosetta stared at the candle momentarily, lost in thought. “I hardly
know. We came when I was a young woman. My husband’s family
wanted to move their estate here, help get some businesses started and
help distribute some wealth throughout the town. They’re nice,
charitable people. Gosh, I think I only had two children back then.”

20. Tilden turned a page in the agriculture book he was reading, only half
listening. “Oh? How many do you have now?”
“Sixteen.” She groaned and did not break her gaze from the candle in
front of her.
The young man’s head shot up. “What?”
“Yes, I know. It is utterly ridiculous and I cannot control the lot of
them.”

21. He had no idea how to respond to the fact that his guest had sixteen
children, especially considering the fact that she did not seem
particularly happy about it. Luckily for him, she took the opportune
silence to excuse herself, as she did not want it to be completely dark on
her walk home, despite the fact that it was a very short one.

22. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Bellworthe. I hope I have the pleasure
of seeing you again soon.”
Tilden grinned up at her politely but anxiously. “Yes, I am sure you
will. Perhaps you will stop by when you need a break from your sixteen
children.”
“Ah, thankfully, only about six are not yet married!” She laughed
before heading out the door, and Tilden gave a brief sigh of relief to
have peace and quiet once more. It was seemingly a very friendly
neighborhood.

23. After studying happily in the quiet from his agriculture book, he finally
settled down into the bath. His whole body ached from the plowing and
fishing he had done, and it was nice to soak in some hot water. Tilden
enjoyed every bit of the peace.

24. As soon as he crawled into bed that night, Tilden was knocked out
soundly until morning, where he awoke at five in order to get in a full
day of fishing and tending to his plants.

25. He realized with surprise that next morning that he wasn’t the only early
riser. Several of the townsfolk crossed his path and greeted him fondly—
although a few, I must admit, walked right past him.

26. In fact, some young man by the name of Navy Turner—whose name
was later revealed with the help of Tilden’s recurring guest, Rosetta—
stole his newspaper.

27. Aside from meeting a few other people, he spent most of the day fishing
—and tripping and falling while doing so.

28. As well as catching a few more boots.

29. After he used up the day’s supply of fresh bait, he went to tend to his
produce garden.

30. His tranquil workday could not be complete without several visits from
his neighbor, Rosetta.
“Yes, those Turners are real pieces of work! It doesn’t surprise me at all
that one of them would steal your paper! The whole lot of them are dirt
poor and . . .”

31. Not to mention a few phone calls from the same lady in question.

32. He was beginning to worry that she was going to make visiting him on
an incessantly regular basis a habit, and ergo become the bane of his
existence. He came to Coleridge to get away from the bustle, not to be
harangued by neighbors who are constantly in need of an excuse to get
away from their multiple children.

33. Later that day he met some girl from town named Trina who he thought
he would get along nicely with.

34. Although after a while it turned out that she was querulous and took great
amusement in habitual, petty arguments. Needless to say that the
relationship did not last very long.

35. After a long day of socializing and working, Tilden was finally able to
sit down with a book in front of a candle. He soon realized he was
hungry, but after having fish for last night’s dinner, breakfast, and lunch
today, he decided that he should perhaps venture into town and dine out
at the cheapest cafe possible. He could compensate by selling some of
those boots he caught to the leather maker.

36. He soon found himself at Raganeau’s, a little French bistro run by a
family who had recently moved into Coleridge straight from France. A
pretty blond server walked up to him. “Hi, can I get you something to
eat, sir?”
Tilden smiled politely. “That would be lovely, but I’ve never been here
before. What would you suggest?”
The girl seemed relatively shocked at the notion that he had never been to
the restaurant before. “Did you just move here?”

37. “Yes, I arrived just yesterday morning from England.”
“England!” The girl exclaimed. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to go there! Is
it as lovely as I’ve heard?”
Tilden shrugged. He had always preferred the peacefulness of the
country over England’s overpopulation. “It’s alright. Very…sooty. If
you like constant motion, then it’s lovely.” The girl told him her
recommended meal, and then went off into the kitchen to place the order.
All the while, a man in a black suit and top hat stared the pair down.

38. Tilden was admiring the delectably French menu and its fabulous dishes
when the girl returned with his meal. Oddly enough, the strange man in
the top hat returned slyly with her. The peculiarity made him feel very
much ill at ease.
“I brought you our special of the day, a grilled chicken platter.” She set
the dish down in front of him. “And by the way, my name is Viola.”

39. Once he was finished and the bill was paid, he whispered to Viola, feeling
very uneasy. “Who is this man who keeps standing here?”
Viola put her hands on her hips and sighed, replying so quietly that he
practically had to read her lips. “That is my boss, Monsieur Jacques
Raganeau. He hovers a lot, I’m sorry. I don’t know why.”

40. Luckily, he was so exhausted when he got home that he didn’t even think
twice about the bizarre man hovering over him at the restaurant. Instead,
he had dreams of the pretty serving girl he had met there.

41. The next morning he awake bright and early as usual in order to take
care of his garden.

42. It wasn’t very long until Rosetta stopped by in need of some consolation.
“I just…I just can’t handle them! I’m going to go mad!’
Tilden wasn’t quite sure how best to console her, but he attempted to with
a comforting pat on the shoulders. “They’re just children, Mrs. Beckett.
I’m sure you mother them quite well.”
“Oh!” She exclaimed. “I am sure I do mother them quite well, they’re
just such handfuls sometimes!”

43. He took a step back from the woman.“Why don’t you hire a nursemaid?
Or a governess?”
“I’ve tried,” she sighed, almost amused at the notion, “but they’re all
horrible. The Bascom-Coleridge College has only just be erected. There
are hardly any ladies eligible who have been to or finished finishing
school yet. Mostly only the boys go off as well. In fact, we recently just
built an estate inside the campus for Beckett boys. Besides, the only girls
who want a job such as that are still very young. I do have
granddaughters who perhaps could––oh, I’m such an old maid!”

44. Tilden grabbed her shoulders once more, as if attempting to talk some
sense into the woman, and hoping it wasn’t too much. Besides, it had
seemed to work consoling her moments ago. “You are not an old maid.
Trust me, I have met plenty of young women, still only about fifteen years
old even, back in England who made wonderful governesses.”
Rosetta shook her head. “If only I were to find such one!”
“Don’t worry, if I come across one, I shall direct her to you.”

45. Inviting Rosetta inside, he offered her some green tea that someone had
given him as a housewarming gift. Why on earth she would want to drink
tea in a wooden cup in his squalor of a home rather than sip tea in fancy
china at her estate was beyond him. There is no way her children could
be that bad. He set the tea on the table in front of her when the phone
rang.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mr. Bellworthe? It’s Viola, from Raganeau’s.”

46. “Viola! What a pleasant surprise!” He squinted his eyes in disbelief.
Also in confusion. He couldn’t think how she came about his number.
“I hope you don’t mind,” the voice on the other end of the receiver was
soft and delicate, “your friend, Mr. Fitzden offered me your address and
I looked up the number in the local directory.”
“I don’t mind at all!” Tilden hoped he didn’t sound too eager.

47. He could tell that Rosetta was starting to get flustered at nothing having
attention paid to her, but he ignored her. The excitement of talking to the
girl he met last night was too inthralling.
“I was wondering,” Viola’s voice trailed off for a moment; Tilden hung
on to every syllable, “if you wouldn’t mind telling me more about England
some time? I hope I’m not being too bold…”

48. Rosetta huffed and stood up to help herself to more tea, tucking back her
hair in annoyance. Tilden ignored her. “Would tomorrow evening work
for you? Unfortunately I have a lot of work to tend to in the mornings…
great! See you then!”
“Who was that?” Rosetta practically snapped at him.
“The serving girl at Raganeau’s. Miss Viola…”
His guest scoffed at him. “You don’t even know her last name?”

49. Rosetta walked over to the window in time to see Mark Turner stealing
another one of Tilden’s papers. “Those Turner quadruplets…And to
think that I have TWO granddaughters married off into that family! I
have evidently taught my children nothing!”
And so Mrs. Beckett’s pity party began once more. On a happier note,
Tilden was so excited about seeing Viola that he didn’t even hear half of
what Mrs. Beckett was saying.

50. He spent that night reading very much and retaining very little, and
found it incredibly hard to concentrate on anything––in the way that a
blossoming romance distracts one from all of life’s typical functions and
duties.