Post by laurel bennet on Jan 9, 2009 1:16:17 GMT -5
laurel margaret grace bennet
[/b][/color][/size] Of the middle class society, a miss laurel bennet at the dear age of eighteen has found herself upon the most curious of situations - entering into London's most tantalizing gossip. "[/i][/color][/font][/size][/ul][/blockquote]
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W R I T E R .
name: melinda
RP experience: lets's not go there
how did you find us?: you found me
age:
gender: female
P O R T R A I T .
eye color: pale green
hair color: brunette
height: 5'6"
body type: slender
distinguishing features: her eyes, her half-smile
fashion style:
M A N N E R S .
profession: N/A.
adoration for:
distaste for:
dreams:
fears:
secrets:
main:
. an accomplished pianist, when her fingers dance over the ivory keys of her grandmother's piano it is the only time she feels like herself.
. Laurel is not one to give into tears unless extremely angry or frustrated. in both cases it takes a long time for her to reach this point and she hates herself for it afterward.[/ul]
P A S T .
family:
. gene arthur bennet, father - deceased, heart failure
. simon george bennet, uncle, 45 - merchant
. elizabeth may bennet, aunt, 37 - home-maker
. robert james bennet, cousin, 20 - medical assistant
. steven john bennet, cousin, 20 - book keeper assistant
. catherine elaine alcott, grandmother, 55
[/ul]
main:
Pressing the heavy ivory paper to her lips, Lillian Esther Alcott said her final goodbye to the life she had been raised for and stole into the wavering shadows of night, never to be heard from again.
Laurel was born into a modest household. Her father, Gene Arthur Bennet was a struggling artist, earning a meager living painting adverts while her mother, Lillian, worked as a nurse at the hospital to help ends meet. Yet if there was a financial strain upon the young family, it remained unbeknown to Laurel as she reveled within the naivety that only exists in childhood. Her days were spent at her fathers feet, meticulously attempting to master the ease with which he wielded a paintbrush. At night, the family would sit alongside the fire, listening to Lillian as she sang songs from her childhood and lovingly brushed Laurel's dark curls.
The paper-thin veneer upon which the young family rested was shattered in an instant. Gene had just exited Victoria Station after dropping off some adverts for publication when he heard the shouts and terrified whinnies, but it was too late. He never returned home. The tale of his death was never repeated - instead, it is believed that he passed peacefully in his sleep of heart failure.
Lillian struggled to maintain the upkeep of their home. With the loss of her husband, she worked longer hours at the hospital, leaving her beloved daughter in the care of their apathetic landlady - a woman more concerned with forgetting her troubles with a strong sherry than minding the quiet little girl. Instead, Laurel busied herself playing with her dolls and painting pictures for her mother with her fathers paint set. All the while sensing that something was wrong with her mother without understanding it.
As her mother's health deteriorated, so did the number of hours she could work. Meals became more infrequent, as did the songs she would sing her daughter to sleep with, until finally her mother gave her the news that would shatter Laurel's world. She was sick and her doctor thought it would be best if she retired to the country to mend. Where she was going did not permit little girls and so, Laurel would be going to live with her Uncle. At the tender age of six, she didn't understand, and as her mother fastened the locket she always wore around her neck so the could "always be together", she was unable to keep the tears from falling.
Life with her Aunt and Uncle was far from pleasant. While her Aunt and Uncle went to every length to make her feel welcome within their home, spoiling her with new dolls and pretty dresses, her cousins made sure she never forgot that she was their ward. When they were blatantly ignoring her, she wished they were - their taunts and ideas of 'games' far from amusing.
Her saving grace was in the letters she dutifully penned her mother weekly, regaling her in the slightest of tales of her time. Each time she received a letter in return, it gave her the strength to survive her insufferable cousins. Until one day, all of her letters were returned to her, bound in twine, with a crisp hand stating: DECEASED along with a small parcel containing her mother's diary - her other affects having been sold to cover her bills at the restorative center.
At the tender age of eight, laurel had not known such loneliness. It pierced her, filling her lungs with a longing ache with each breath and she was certain she would perish from it.
Somehow, she managed to survive - busying herself in learning how to run a household from her Aunt as she helped with the chores and cooking whenever she was not attending school. With each passing day, Laurel found herself falling into a life that she hated, but one to which she saw no escape.
All that changed in an instant - her cousin, Robert, expressed interest in courting her - something her Aunt and Uncle did not oppose. To them it seemed the perfect solution, he was too shy to court a young lady properly and with Laurel he could forgo this.
Laurel, however, was horrified and locked herself in the attic. In her desperation to calm her frantic heart, she began leafing through her mother's belongings again. As she thumbed through the yellowed pages of her diary a note fluttered to the floor.
My Darling Lillian,
It has been too long and I was the fool. Please allow me to mend all that has been broken.
Your Mother,
Catherine Alcott
Laurel felt her heart race as she ran her fingers over the ebony ink of the address - she had a grandmother. She had a way to escape Robert. Pushing all the questions and doubts aside, she penned a note to the grandmother she had never known explaining who she was and what had happened to her mother and father. Each time she reread her words, they found themselves crumpled beside her - it sounded desperate and contrived, as though she was looking for more than a meeting. In the end, Laurel knew only one thing to say:
Dear Mrs. Alcott,
I have reason to believe that you are of relation to my mother, Lillian Esther Alcott-Bennet. The only thing I can give in way of proof is this, the enclosed locket that my mother never parted with. I look forward to meeting with you.
Sincerely,
Laurel Bennet
With that simple note, everything changed. The locket, a gift from Lillian's father was enough to compel the well-known Mrs. Alcott to meet with her. All it took was one look for her to be convinced that Laurel was her granddaughter. The same day, Laurel was removed from the care of Uncle and into her grandmother's custody.
Yet, it was not the escape Laurel had craved. While she was not longer to be betrothed to her cousin, she was now living in a world whose rules she did not understand. Each day as she struggles to fit in, she wonders how long before she disappoints all those around her.
There are days where she wishes she never found that note.[/ul]
E T C .
play-by: darla baker
password: puddle baby
rp sample:
-bats eyes-
must i?[/blockquote][/size]
