Mirusia

By Monika Barbara Potocki

John Robinson, a prosperous bachelor and visitor in the peculiar town of Greenvalle, upsets all social norms by forging a friendship with Mirusia Jansen, an ostracized outcast. Despite discouragement from the townspeople and initial resistance from the lady herself, John finds himself disregarding Mirusia's unattractive exterior and falling in love with the kind, witty girl underneath. But will their fairy-tale romance survive the reality of their differences and the secrets they are keeping? Original and unpredictable, Mirusia is anything but a cliché love story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781304930545

Book preview

Mirusia

Mirusia

Mirusia

By Monika Barbara Potocki

Copyright

Copyright © 2014 by Monika Barbara Potocki

All rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced without the written consent of the author.

The characters, places, and companies in this novel are fictional, and not meant to comment upon living people, places, or firms.

ISBN: 978-1-304-93054-5

Dedication

To God, my Master, Who gave me the inspiration, talent, and motivation to imagine this story and to write this book, and Who gives me everything every day of my life.

To my Heavenly Mother, the Blessed Virgin, for guiding me always and for giving me faith.

To the Saints, Blessed, and Angels, for praying for me and helping me.

To my earthly parents, who have filled my life with their love and support.

And to all my friends, for all the laughs and companionship we have shared throughout the years.

A Note on Pronunciation

The name ‘Mirusia’ is a common nickname for the Polish name of Mirosława. Mirusia is pronounced Mee-roo-sha.

Mirusia

Chapter One

Buckmester County was in a time warp. While outside its boundaries cities with skyscrapers and citizens with smartphones abounded, Buckmester County had stalled somewhere a few decades back on the timeline of human civilization. No cars drove down its unpaved streets and paths; instead, horses pulled along carriages or buggies. Men wore three-piece suits on a daily basis. The women were never seen in hems above their ankles. The County had eventually accepted electric lighting and indoor plumbing, but finding a computer or television screen within its realm was a decided impossibility. As for cellular phones, the entire hundred thousand acres lay in a complete dead zone; anyone making a call would be doing so from a rotary dial telephone. Calling someone outside of Buckmester County was a feasible, but expensive, maneuver. In short, the residents of that place were generally removed from the norms of mainstream society, and they liked it that way.

Everyone knew everyone – or nearly so. Compared to the outside world, people were relaxed, intimate, carefree. Dances were given at the town halls and plays were shown at the local theaters weekly. Private parties were even more frequent. Being in society, accepted by society and enjoying society were the principle points in life, no doubt made easier by the lack of electric distractions which had taken their toll on families elsewhere. The elderly were respected, children everywhere were nurtured and loved. But, unfortunately, as Buckmester County was on earth, it could not be a heaven.

The society had its faults, problems which were unacknowledged by its subscribers except as virtues. The occasional newcomer in the County would, to his or her horror, quickly find out that only two things mattered to the natives: physical beauty and money. Those two were it. To count in society, one either had to have a full wallet or a pretty face. If possessing either, or even better, both, was someone’s good fortune, they could be certain of meeting many friends during their stay and being swamped with invitations to dinner and dance parties. If such people were single, a deluge of potential mates was sure to descend upon them. Those who were not so fortuitous often found it easier to cut their sojourn short.

Greenvalle was one of the largest towns in the County and thus its unofficial capitol, a reputation bolstered by the fact that several outside prestigious businessmen owned vacation homes in it. Even so, it was still a small town. Most of the entertainment it had to offer could usually be found on Main Street, which was flanked by numerous shops, the drugstore, the town hall, the post office, three different churches, a few homes, and the public library. At various points, narrower roads lined with places of residence diverged from it. On one end, Main Street petered out into a couple of paths leading past a few pitiful rental houses and to the hills and fields which surrounded the entire settlement. The other boundary of the unpaved pathway was the train station, the only practical means of transportation to and from the town. It was by this inlet that John and Mirusia entered Greenvalle within two months of each other.

Chapter Two

On a fine evening in mid-June, the windows in one of the grandest homes on Main Street were well lit; its owners were within, a relatively rare occurrence for a summer house. They sat in a cheery parlor on the third floor, the master reading a newspaper while the mistress knitted. These two were comfortably settled in the prime of life. Mr. Alex Robinson's head was bald and the remaining hair somewhat grey, but his face was not home to too many wrinkles despite years of meticulous business-keeping. And there was plenty of business to mind, as his investments included the Buckmester County carriage, farming, and construction industries as well as several of the outside world’s automobile and fabric production companies. He was a man of medium height, and while he could not be called lean, was neither a man of great girth. His wife, Mrs. Elaine Robinson, was a pretty woman who possessed elegantly piled strands of golden hair upon her head. Once in a while, she raised her eyes from her work to gaze lovingly at a certain young man of twenty-four who had swept the curtain of one of the grand windows aside and stood contemplating the scene beyond its glass.

That young man had neatly trimmed brown hair, and sparkling, lively, intelligent brown eyes to match. His jaw was square and close-shaven, his complexion a bit tan, signifying that he had taken great advantage of the few weeks of warm weather which lay between the rains of April and the current, balmy month of June. His face altogether was full of good humor, but the aforesaid eyes hinted that he dwelt on life’s serious issues with much more frequency than most men at his age.

From the third-story window, he gazed upon the street below, and upon the buildings that lined it. Beyond them, short winding streets flanked with small houses could be seen; this settlement ended where the earth began to curve upward into a sudden and relatively large hill. In the distance, on top of that very hill, an impossibly grand and elegant house stood. The moon shone upon its white marble walls, making it glow with a pale light as it sat enthroned over the entirety of Greenvalle. It was the Thompson Mansion.

Its windows, however, were completely dark: it was their usual state. As long as this status quo was unbroken, however, Alex and Elaine Robinson were unquestionably the most prosperous visitors in Greenvalle, and their son, the handsome young man at the window, was the most eligible bachelor for miles around.

John, Elaine Robinson thus addressed her only child, I hope that you are planning on going to the town hall dance tomorrow?

If you and Dad ask me to attend, I will plan to go, he replied dutifully, drawing the curtain and turning around.

I know you do not take pleasure in things like this, John, but, it is necessary. You have hardly crossed the threshold of this house since we arrived last week.

I understand, Mother. I am not complaining. I will go, the young man assured her softly.

There was a touch of pity in Mrs. Robinson’s glance.

Poor dear! I almost wish that you were married already, or else that our clients were more conventional people.

Both of those, I daresay, would give me respite from these wonderful Greenvallean social gatherings, John replied a bit more jovially. You know I hate gossip. I dislike the fact that Greenvalleans try to only purchase things from people they find sociable. I hate the social norms which dictate that all the young women hereabouts should throw themselves at me as if I were Ivan the Terrible and had determined to select my bride by lining them up in neat rows for my superficial inspection. But I will not act like a self-centered teenager, and whine. All in all, there are men who have to do much more disagreeable things for a living than to endure the conversations of and dances with flirtatious girls and prodding hints from their over-eager hopeful parents.

You are a good man, son. And a very optimistic one! Alex Robinson remarked.

Thank you, Dad, John replied with a smile.

Chapter Three

Dutifully, the following day John Robinson put on a suit and walked down the street to the town hall, whence beautiful strains of music came. He was met at the door by Mr. Drexel, one of those men who know everyone and who insist on integrating all outsiders into the mix as soon as possible.

Good evening, Mr. Robinson.

Good evening, sir.

Why, where is your carriage? the older man inquired in a surprised voice as he craned his head, looking around vainly for a conveyance.

I walked, Mr. Drexel.

Walked!

Yes. After all, I only live a few feet away from the town hall.

Mr. Drexel gave him a queer look, unable to comprehend why a young man of consequence and wealth would not wish to flaunt it before the whole town by arriving in an expensive rig, no matter how short the distance was. Putting the matter aside, however, he drew his arm through the guest’s and steered him towards a group of people whom John vaguely remembered from summers past. They were reintroduced, and then Mr. Drexel, pulling him away, repeated the procedure with several other cliques which were standing or sitting about. Finally, considering his duty sufficiently done, he released his companion’s arm and allowed him to survey the scene and make advances on his own as the orchestra prepared to strike their first chords.

John looked around. Everywhere, maidenly eyes glanced at him flirtatiously. Locks were tossed or smoothened; every figure was turned towards him so as to show its best advantage. Had he been a vain man, he would have doubtlessly enjoyed the attention. As it was, however, it made him feel like a fish surrounded by bait, none of it worthwhile. More than ever, he wished that he had not come.

Meanwhile, Mr. Drexel watched him expectantly, wondering what lucky young lady would have the honor of being his first dance partner that evening. John inwardly sighed.

There is no help for it, he said to himself. I might as well pick one and prepare to make insignificant small talk for the next ten minutes.

Trying to appear as interested as possible, he scanned the assembly. Nothing was in view but those silly, brightly bedecked girls. Then, as his glance momentarily and inadvertently fell into the background, he finally saw a very curious creature.

He stared for a moment, and then turned to Mr. Drexel.

Sir, would you be so kind as to tell me- who is that lady standing by the windows near the lounge area?

That is Ms. Nellie Gordon, his guide said, nodding approvingly. Ms. Gordon, by virtue of her position as the daughter of a relatively prosperous tradesman and as the golden-haired town beauty, was widely considered the only proper match for Greenvalle’s most eligible bachelor. And Nellie, in multiple conversations, had made it known that John Robinson was a conquest she was determined to prevail in.

No, not the one in the green dress. The one on the other side of the windows. The one in navy blue, John replied.

Mr. Drexel stared at him as if he were a madman.

Not the one with the cap?

Yes, that one.

"Err…I...we…don’t know much about her. She moved in about a month or so ago into a little rental house on the outskirts of town. No one has ever called on her as far as I know."

What is her name?

Her name? I don’t know. He paused. Then, in a laughing tone, he added, "You…don’t think her pretty, sir, do you?"

Pretty? No, I…, John stopped short. Then he reddened, ashamed. But I find her interesting.

Interesting?

Something about her manner…I do not know.

Mr. Drexel seemed confused. Was this handsome, brilliant bachelor joking? John, immediately sensing the feeling, forced himself to take his eyes off the lady in navy blue and to place them on another. As they happened to fall on a blond girl in bright pink, he walked up to her and asked for a dance with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

While he danced with the silly girl who continually chattered about the history of the family heirloom necklace she was wearing, he often and surreptitiously glanced at the girl in navy blue. Unlike every other eligible female in the room, she was making no effort to attract his attention. Instead, she watched the entire dance floor intently, and seemed particularly focused on the dresses of the women; this, however, without any show of envy. From her entire attitude, he suspected that she did not resent her situation as a wall-flower in the least.

Between quick responses to his dance partner, he also observed, as closely as possible from a distance, the girl’s physical appearance. She was decidedly unattractive. Her features, as far as he could tell, were not grotesque, so it was impossible for him to call her ugly, although he later found out that many of the villagers did so. Her figure, however, was rather unsymmetrical and ungainly. It was completely encased in a floor length, navy blue dress of rather coarse cloth and a high waistline. The same had long, tight sleeves which completely covered her arms up to the wrists. Her collar was high and hid her neck. On her head, in dramatic contrast with all the other young ladies who tossed their soft locks at every opportunity, she wore a matching navy blue, unbecoming cap with a frilly border: no hair and very little of her ears showed. Underneath, a low forehead could be seen. Most prominent of all were the large, black-rimmed glasses. They covered a substantial portion of her face and made her look like a nerd and bookworm. Other than that, her hazel eyes (although glazed over by the glasses), lips and nose seemed somewhat decent; her eyebrows were covered too much by the glasses for him to make a fair pronouncement on their merit.

And yet, despite her appearance, she seemed amiable and pleasant, as evidenced by a small smile she wore and the air of intelligence which hung about her. The duality provoked John’s interest. Besides, he felt something like pity for the poor creature who had resided in the usually companionable town for several weeks, in such utter desolation that one of the biggest town gossips did not know her name.

Chapter Four

After several more reels, he could no longer contain his curiosity. Stepping off the dance floor, he wove his way through the crowd and soon found himself by the nearly deserted lounge area. She was still watching the floor, and did not seem aware of his approach. Trying to be casual, he strolled over to one of the windows and looked out for a minute at the star-studded sky.

Lovely evening, is it not?

She turned her head and glanced at him for an instant, but evidently decided that he must have been speaking to himself. She turned away.

John tried again.

Do you not think that it is lovely, madam?

This time he looked at her as he said it. She caught his eye and seemed quite stupefied for a moment. Then she quickly glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see the young lady to whom the remark had been addressed. But there was nobody there.

"Are you speaking to me?" she asked, looking at him again.

Yes. John smiled. Nice evening, isn’t it?

Yes, very, she replied with a small smile and began to turn her head away.

Are you new in town, miss? John asked quickly, to prolong the conversation.

Again, she seemed quite shocked that he would favor her with his time. But she finally turned her whole body towards him and smiled warmly as she replied,

Relatively new. I do not believe that you are, though, sir.

This engaged his curiosity even more. He had assumed that someone who sat in corners, was perpetually ignored, and dressed so shabbily would be a shy creature. Her friendly smile and confident tone, however, proved otherwise.

You are correct, madam. I have spent many summers here, as I am sure you have heard, he replied, laughing a little. But I generally live in Yorkshire- I suppose you have never heard of that town?

Actually, I have. I lived most of my life in Summerside. Yorkshire is less than twenty minutes away.

Summerside?! I have driven through it often. It is very pleasant, very neighborly. John paused. How long has it been since you moved here?

A little more than a month.

Do you like it? he asked. Then he reddened, wondering if he had said the wrong thing. How could she like it when everyone in town disliked and was rude to her?

But she surprised him. Instead of being offended, she laughed at his expression, having guessed what he was thinking. He marveled at the sound. Her laugh, just like her voice, was beautiful and musical. It seemed completely out of place with her unattractive looks.

I find it very interesting, as you might imagine, the young lady replied with a smile.

Yes. The customs here are quite different. It is like stepping back in time.

She laughed again and nodded in agreement

Time travel does not only exist in science fiction books and movies.

After he had acknowledged this small piece of humor, a short silence ensued. To break it, he turned to her again.

I am sorry, but you see, I do not quite know your name…Ms…

Jansen. Mirusia Jansen. If I am not mistaken, you are John Robinson.

You are not mistaken, that gentleman said laughing, as they shook hands and sat down on the sofa to continue their conversation.

The tête-à-tête went on and on. Despite her strange looks, John found Mirusia incredibly easy to talk to. She was intelligent, and she was charming. Before he knew it, they were discussing the campuses of their respective alma maters, which soon evolved into a conversation about the Middle Ages and afterwards into one about Jane Eyre. John was scarcely aware of the numerous stares and glances which were sent their way from the opposite side of the room. Ms. Jansen did not seem to mind them either; if anything, they amused her. This captivated John, and awoke in him a deep respect and admiration for his companion. He knew many kind-tempered women, but none that would have suffered so many injustices and slights in amiable silence.

Her manner was also beguiling. While she was sociable, she was not bold: her air was sweet and virginal. No questionable or colorful word or phrase ever passed her lips. Everything about her was ladylike.

After a good two hours, which for him seemed like fifteen minutes, they paused in the conversation to catch their breaths. For the first time, they noticed how much the hour hand on the clock had moved and that the last dance of the evening was beginning.

The Viennese Waltz, John remarked.

Yes.

I have always loved it. It is so spirited.

It is one of my favorites, too, she replied. 

Really? John smiled and held out his hand to her. If so, may I have this dance?

Ms. Jansen looked at his hand for a moment, and then at him. She evidently decided that he had made the offer on the spur of the moment and in forgetfulness of the circumstances. In order to save him the embarrassment of standing up with her, she shook her head and said,

I am sure that some other young lady has already promised you this dance, as it is the last. You had better seek her out and keep your offer to her. Thank you for the talk, however.

John immediately comprehended what she was trying to do. Smiling and shaking his head a little he answered,

No, I have no previous engagement. And I would prefer to dance this one with you, Ms. Jansen- unless- of course, if you do not want to.

In that case, here she gave him her hand, I have no objection.

They stood and hand-in-hand, walked to the dance floor. When they had reached it, quite a loud murmur ran through the crowd and numerous incredulous glances were cast their way. Ms. Jansen turned away from him slightly and looked at the floor, not in embarrassment, but to hide an extremely amused smile. They got into position, took their preparation step, and began sailing away on the strains of the Viennese waltz. Both danced well, and if it were not for the looks of his partner, John was sure that their litheness would surely have awoken much admiration. As it was, they were only rewarded with vicious whispers and shocked stares.

When the waltz ended, so did the evening. There was a bustle as the waitresses began to clear the refreshment tables and the couples began to wander out the door. 

May I see you home? John Robinson asked Ms. Jansen as they slowly left the dance floor.

If you wish to, yes.

Yes, I would like to, John replied, half-laughing, simultaneously offering her his arm. She took it.

They walked over to the coat-room, where they retrieved the young lady’s clutch and cloak, both made out of the same dull navy blue material as her dress. Afterwards, they stepped out of the hot town hall into the cool night air.

Everywhere about them, ladies were being helped by gentlemen into buggies or carriages. Goodbyes and goodnights could be heard. Silently, they passed the scene and, turning right, wove their way down Main Street.

Chapter Five

They ambled down the streetlight-lit road slowly, sometimes quiet, sometimes remarking on the architecture of an interesting house. At last the road branched off into another street, and immediately afterwards narrowed to a path which went through a small wood. It was this way that, guided by Mirusia, they took.

After three more minutes of their stroll, they came to the end of it and into view of a small, two-story, cream-colored house standing by itself on their right. Its large, well-kept lawn was surrounded by a white fence. A gate in it opened unto a narrow paved path which led to the two front steps and door. On the left side of the house was a low white bench which looked out across the fields and hills that lay beyond. On the right, by the moonlight, John could make out rosebushes and some young trees.

They paused before the gate.

You leave your lights on when you are not at home? John asked, gesturing to a window which glowed bright gold.

She turned to look and shook her head.

Oh no. Hannah must be waiting up for me.

Hannah…?

Hannah Melk. She and her brother Matthew live with me.

John knew about Hannah and Matthew Melk. They were both in their late sixties, and, while they had lived in Buckmester County all their lives, were unfortunately too plain and too old to gain lucrative work as house servants of the more prominent or permanent residents. Instead, they kept themselves by moving in with tourists and, in exchange for room and board, helped them with simple tasks such as babysitting, cooking, housekeeping and yard work. 

Thank you for seeing me home, Mr. Robinson, Ms. Jansen said, detaching her arm from his.

It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Jansen.

Likewise, sir.

The young girl unlatched the white garden gate and passed into the interior of the enclosure before latching it again.

Goodnight.

Goodnight.

He watched her walk up the path, climb the steps and disappear through the front door before turning and retracing his way back to town.

Chapter Six

Despite the fact that he thought her quite interesting at their first meeting, John Robinson could not be said to be infatuated with Mirusia Jansen at first sight. The next morning, he thought of her briefly as he went down the stairs to breakfast and chuckled to himself when he remembered some of the humorous phrases she had uttered. To his parent’s inquiries, he made a favorable response: he had enjoyed the dance more than he expected to. After the meal, he went to his desk and soon work temporarily wiped the recollections of the previous evening out of his mind. Subconsciously, he fully expected to see her about town and, when he ran into her, to deepen the acquaintance which they had begun.

However, something unusual happened. Despite Greenvalle being a small town, John did not see the interesting girl again for some time. About a week after the dance, he realized that while he had met Ms. Nellie Gordon almost every day, he had not once laid eyes upon Ms. Jansen since the previous Saturday.

John wandered about town that Saturday, frankly wondering whether Ms. Jansen had been a creature of his imagination or whether she had just vaporized after the dance. For nearly a week, his eyes had sought her whenever he walked down the street or walked into a public building, and every time they were disappointed. Just now, he had taken a stroll through the fields outside of town and purposely navigated his course so that he would pass a certain small house on the outskirts of Greenvalle. He secretly hoped that a young lady might be outside, or, at the very least, one of the Melks might be. In that case, he could strike up a conversation with them and then surreptitiously inquire about their young mistress. As he deliberately wandered past the edifice, however, its door was shut and the surrounding lawn unoccupied.

Disappointed, he walked back to town. The center of it was bustling, for it was market day, and farmers from the surrounding countryside had converged on the square to sell their fresh produce, meats and cheeses. Continuing his deliberations, he passed the Church of the Immaculate Conception. He recalled that it had come out in the course of their conversation that Ms. Jansen appeared to be a rather devout Catholic. Immaculate Conception was the only Roman Catholic Church in town, and tomorrow was Sunday; if he attended every Mass, then it would be practically impossible to miss her.  He was wondering whether to take that course of action when he happened to look across the street. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Nellie Gordon looking at him determinedly from the opposite side. Desperate to make his escape, he started towards the mass of fruit stands, when, in front of