Authour's Note:
This 18th century historical romance is my contribution for the Wine and Old Lace event.
In this story, you can expect to find descriptions of lesbian and heterosexual sex, melodrama, a betrothment, and overly romantic language.
Special thanks to the team of people who beta read and edited for me. This story would not be what it is without Bebop3, blackrandl1958, norafares, OneAuthor, and Pixel the Cat.
**
"You will marry him."
"Father, no. Please —"
"Charlotte, you will marry the Digbys' son. That is final."
"But —"
"Final!"
Father's last word was punctuated by a loud thump as he slammed his hand onto the thick oak desk. My brothers stood by him in stony silence. Neither Edmund nor Philip would meet my gaze, though Philip's face betrayed a look of sadness.
My mouth opened and closed, but I did not speak another word. Emotions swirled through me, anger, betrayal and disbelief, all muddied up into a ball of agony that settled deep inside my chest.
I had known something strange was happening when Father called us into his study after dinner. He never allowed me into the study, which of course meant I had stolen my way into the room on multiple occasions without his knowledge. To invite me in there specifically was highly suspect.
Still, the announcement that he had betrothed me to a man I had never met, a man whose name he did not even tell me, was shocking.
Father's last shout hung off the tension in the air. I stared down at the oak desk, looking but not seeing, until Father cleared his throat.
"You are twenty years old. It's time you marry." His voice was softer, but the grumbling firmness was still there. "Another London Season has come and gone. I have bought you all the finest dresses and sent you to all the best events. You have never once shown any inclination towards a man. So, I have found one for you. The Digbys are well-respected. Despite your tendency to frolic around the woods like a boy, they have agreed to marry you to him, and so you will marry him. They will arrive in a few days' time so you may meet him before the wedding."
"I do not want to marry anyone, Father. Please..."
"You will marry him, or you will be sent to a convent."
My jaw trembled as I finally looked into Father's eyes.
"Mother would have never let you do this to me." My voice came out in a hiss, and I was unable to keep the anger from boiling over as I whirled around to leave.
"I did not dismiss you!" he roared, but by the time he finished speaking, I had slammed the study door behind me.
Father had not remarried after Mother had died a few years earlier, leaving me to assume the responsibilities as lady of the house. I had done so begrudgingly, a fact well known to everyone except Edith Hathaway. Father was now courting Edith, and it was common knowledge that she was bitter that I ran the household. I was absolutely certain that Father's sudden willingness to hoist me off on the first man who would take me was a result of her interference. I would be taken to my new husband's household leaving Edith to marry my father and take over as lady of his house.
It did not bode well for any woman who would eventually marry Edmund, as he would be the eventual heir to the family estate. Perhaps that is why Edmund had not yet married, either. Edith was an ambitious woman. Her face was pretty for her years, likely why my father sought after her, but all the beauty in the world could not mask the toad-like nefariousness that lay inside her soul.
If she would have simply married my father, I would have handed the reins to her gladly. I did not want to be the lady of the house. Not my father's house, not anyone's house. I wanted to work in the stables, hunt with the men, run through the woods and find mushrooms and berries and all manner of earthly treasure. I did not want to manage the household, or embroider hoops of flowers, or change my dress three times a day.
The one and only benefit to being the lady of the house was my lady's maid, Alice.
Alice was the daughter of Mrs. Clayton, our housekeeper. She had been my dearest friend and closest confidante since we were children. A condition of my assuming the position of lady of the house was that Alice continue to be my companion. Father insisted she was not of high enough birth to be a lady's companion, but that she could be my lady's maid. Alice accepted the role gladly, as the title was of no importance to her. We only wished to be with each other day in and day out, as it had always been.
She was there after I stormed through the house and into my room, struggling to keep the tears from falling.
"Charlotte!" She rushed across the room and tried to embrace me, but I struggled away. "What's wrong?"
The tears spilled from my eyes as I threw myself onto the bed, burying my face against the pillow. The bed sank under Alice's weight as she perched beside me. She touched my back tentatively, her soft hand a comforting weight against my spine.
"Charlotte?"
Her voice was quiet, gravely concerned. I tried to speak through my tears, but the words were stuttered, unintelligible with anger. She patted my back softly, making gentle circles with her fingers until the sobs subsided and I could draw in a breath.
"He's forcing me to marry."
The words were muffled against my pillow, but Alice heard them. I did not need to see her face to know what she felt. Her hand stopped moving, resting heavily against my back, and her breath caught in her throat.
We sat that way for some time. Once it became difficult for me to breathe against the pillow, I shifted, and Alice helped me sit back up. She got up and crossed the room, dampening a cloth for me to press against my tear-swollen eyes, before sitting back next to me on the edge of the bed.
"Tell me what happened," she asked softly.
As I dabbed the cloth against my face, I told her what my father had done, and about my suspicions that Edith was behind it. Alice listened thoughtfully, holding my hand as I choked out the story. I grew angrier with each moment, and more despairing with each breath.
"He didn't tell me his name.'" I looked at Alice, her brown eyes reflecting the sadness of my own. "How can I marry him without even a name?"
"I wish I had some comfort for you." She shook her head sadly. "I am sorry, Charlotte. I never wanted this day to come."
She took my hand and brought me to the vanity, directing me to sit so she could unpin my hair. I watched in the mirror as her fingers worked through the tangles, brushing out the kinks and knots as she went.
"He'll be here in a few days," I said. "What do you suppose he will be like?"