Mason Plantation
March 3, 1863
Early Morning

Darkness enshrouded the plantation, similar to a woolen blanket in the depths of a horrid winter. The muted chirps of several dozen crickets were the only sounds to be heard on the abyss of property. Archer had long abandoned his woolen Confederate jacket in favor of a much cooler, white undershirt while the shoulder straps of his suspenders swung at either side of his legs. He dropped his bag at his feet, uncaring that it held all he possessed in the world.

A small, ornate box crafted of pure silver weighed heavily in his pocket. The golden emerald encrusted ring inside the box, however, bore much more weight on his mind than it did resting inside his pocket. He picked up a small gravel from alongside the dirt road that rested outside the imperial Mason house, refusing to acknowledge the way his heart pounded against its cage in his chest or the slight tremble in his hand. He tossed the small stone expertly to its mark; he only hoped he would not shatter the window which separated himself and his darling Emmeline.

Her window swung open when the rock tapped against the glass barrier. She smiled down at him, and it felt as though the sun had not set at all. Her golden hair lay against the white fabric of her plain blouse as opposed to the intricate style the strands were usually wound in. He found that he much preferred her hair in this fashion; he had not even known that he would have an opinion about such a thing.

He returned her smile with a brightness that rivaled hers. “Hello, Archie,” She said, her voice but a scarce, happy whisper.

If possible, his smile widened when she spoke. “Hello, my darling Emmeline,”

“I need only a moment to fetch my bag,” He nodded, and she disappeared only to return a moment later.

He reached his hands upward. “Toss it down. I’ll catch it,”

She hesitated a moment before doing as he requested. Her own brown leather bag pummeled down at him at such a speed that he staggered back a step at the impact. “Good lord,” He groaned, regaining the breath that had been knocked out of him.

“Oh, my stars!” Emmeline clapped a hand over her mouth at the loud exclamation. She purposefully lowered her voice before she spoke again. “Archie! I’m so sorry! I did not mean to throw that quite so hard,”

“What is in this?” He shook the weapon at her with a clear amount of disdain in his voice. “Stones? Horseshoes? I hardly think we’ll need that much luck,”

Emmeline promptly rested her hand on her hip, and with one leg already swung over the side of the window sill, she made for quite the comically sight, glaring down at him like she was. “Archer Taylor,” She began rather sternly. “In case you haven’t noticed, I am a woman,” He subtly eyed her up and down, quirking brow, thinking the fact had definitely not evaded his attention. “And a woman needs her things,” She informed him before beginning to climb down the leaf green trellis that lead up to her room.

He lay her bag on the ground with much more care than he had shown his own before rushing forward to offer aid in his descent. The trellis was suddenly far too high for his liking. Each time her dark green skirts snagged against a rose vine or against the wood of the trellis, he jerked forward, ready to catch her if necessary. He placed his hands on either side of her waist when she had climbed down far enough to be reached. She laughed, saying he was paranoid and fretted over her far too much, but nonetheless, she allowed him to lift her from the trellis, gripping his shoulders tightly when he spun her around.

Energy thrummed through Archer’s veins despite the late hour while Emmeline was nearly overtaken by the giddy happiness she felt. A new season and turn of life awaited both of them. Little in the entire world could subdue the two of them. She took his face in her hands, kissing him firmly. “I love you, Archie,” She smiled broadly.

“And I love you, Emmeline,” He responded instantly. He pulled away from her ,lest they remain as they were until the sun rose. He grabbed their bags. “Are you ready to leave this place?”

A sort of reminiscent melancholy found rest in her eyes, and she nodded as she gazed around her home. “Yes, I am,”

They began toward the stables where Archer’s precious black horses awaited them. “And have you decided where it is you wish to go?”

“I have already decided that wherever you are is my home,” She admitted, perching her chin on top of his shoulder.

Her strong words gave him enough courage to halt them in their journey to the building that now only rested twenty paces away.

“Archie?” She questioned with a quiet laugh. “What are you doing?”

He came to stand in front of her, laying their bags on the ground while his thumb swiped nervously across her knuckles. Her smile fell when she finally noticed his anxious demeanor and how he refused to meet her gaze.

“Archie?” She repeated. “What's the matter?” She asked before her own tone grew nervous. “You're not having second thoughts, are you?”

“No!” He exclaimed in a hushed tone, surging forward to grasp her hands. “If there is one truth you must never doubt, it is the fact I have never had any doubts or reconsiderations about my decision to spend my life with you,”

Tears pricked at her eyes, and he drew a deep breath. He fished the silver box out of his pocket, sinking to one knee. She gasped sharply, her eyes widening when he opened the lid. A bright, sparkling ruby mounted tastefully atop an intricate golden band met her vision. “Oh! Archie!” She stumbled over her words, too surprised to be able to make much sense.

“Emmeline Felicity Mason,” He began, laughter in his voice. “will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He said before quickly declaring. “And my equal,”

Tears ran down her face while she nodded quickly. “Yes! Yes, I will!”