Chapter 7
Pryor Manor, Mayfair
Ivy went straight to her room after she and her parents arrived home that night. Heidi drew her a hot bath, adding a touch of peach oil and a slosh of honeyed milk to relax her after the long day she had had; letting her soak for a good thirty minutes before knocking on the door to check on her. Ivy sunk further into the deep tub, fully immersing herself in the cloudy, perfumed water. She laid there for a moment, running through everything that had happened that day, and how quickly it had all escalated.
She emerged back out of the water and took a deep breath, staring up at a patch of damp in the corner of her bathroom ceiling. She refused to cry, crying didn't get her anywhere anyway, so what was the point? She would merely be told to stop snivelling and behave, as per usual. Her fate had been decided by everyone else already; despite her protests, and despite her tears.
No one had thought to ask Ivy how she felt about it all, or if she even wanted it, for no one cared. She was simply a bargaining chip, a dairy cow being sold off at auction, property. As far as anyone else was concerned, now that she had grown into a woman, all she was apparently good for now was finding herself a rich man to marry and have babies with, and plan stupid, pointless parties for stupid, sycophantic people who didn't care about her either. What a bleak future indeed.
"I will be out in a minute, Heidi" she called out; making circles in the water with her fingertips, then smashing the surface with an angry pound of her fist, making a splosh that echoed through the steam filled room. Her heart ached, the idea of being anyone's wife, let alone someone like Adam Cleaver made her stomach tie itself in knots. A few seconds later she huffed loudly, pushing her hands against the rim of the tub and stood up, the water trailing over her body and trickling back into the bath. She couldn't pretend to relax any longer.
Emerging from the steamy bathroom some minutes later after wringing her long damp hair with a flat woven towel, she began to plait it, dismissing Heidi for the night.
"I've left you some supper, Miss," Heidi smiled as she turned towards the bedroom door, knowing when she was not wanted. Ivy smiled back and nodded silently in thanks before Heidi walked out, clicking the door closed behind her.
She hadn't eaten since breakfast, so was grateful that her thoughtful handmaid knew her so well, for Ivy always enjoyed a late night snack. She picked at a half a hard boiled egg, putting it down to pluck a shortbread biscuit from the tray to nibble on instead. Pouring herself a cup of tea she sat by her window, watching the carriages clack past along the cobbled street outside.
"What the fuck were you thinking, Father?" An angry voice was heard shouting from downstairs.
Ivy hadn't been expecting Jack at Pryor Manor that night, what was he doing here at this hour? He must have heard the good news, she thought.
"You will not use that tone with me, boy!" Peter said back, stoically; his voice a little muffled by the closed bedroom door. Ivy snuck over to it, turning the doorknob as quietly as she could, opening it just a crack.
"You're marrying her off to Adam fucking Cleaver?! He's a scoundrel, Father, you can't let him marry her!" Ivy smiled weakly, tears filling her eyes. At least someone was on her side, she could always depend on Jack.
Although Ivy had many siblings, Jack had always been her favourite, the one she felt closest to, for he understood her better than anyone else.
Lord Peter and Lady Eleanor Pryor's household had once been a very full one; having had eight children in total. Jack came along after Gregory and Benjamin, his two elder brothers. His five sisters then followed him; Edith, Judith, Beatrice, Annette, and then finally, Ivy. The four eldest girls along with the two eldest brothers had already married, but neither Jack nor Ivy had the faintest interest in becoming someone's husband or wife, so were avoiding it for as long as possible.
As Jack was the third son of three, he held little responsibility within his family which he was quite content with; fortunate that his Father had not put any pressure on him to find himself a wife yet, for what did it matter anyway? He was never going to claim a title, especially as Gregory already had two children of his own, not to mention Benjamin who too was ahead of him in line. But his father was not an advocate for relations out of wedlock, so he would've preferred for his youngest son to settle down.
However, for the time being Jack was essentially free to do as he pleased, which Ivy envied enormously. Although she loved her brother more than anyone else in the world, it irked her that she was being forced into marriage, whereas if she were a man she could do whatever she wanted; she could leave London and go back to live out her days in the country, maybe adopt some animals she could look after, paint, maybe even learn to cook for herself. But no, the vivid and painful reality was that she was to marry Adam Cleaver and become a Countess in the distant future, just like everyone wanted. Everyone but her.
"It is none of your concern, son," Peter replied bluntly.
"Adam Cleaver is a renowned rake, yet you are happy to throw your youngest daughter away to a man like that? What kind of father are you?!"
"Jack, that is no way to talk to your father!" Eleanor scolded, desperate to calm the situation, for she knew her husband's foul temper which he was close to losing. Jack, much like his father too had a temper; he was seething, he had to protect his little sister somehow, but had no idea how, for when his Father's mind was made up there was little to nothing anyone could do to change it. Peter waved a dismissive hand at his wife, calmly picking up the glass of whiskey from his desk and taking a long sip.
"It's quite alright, Eleanor," he said, turning towards his youngest son. "You could have been there for your sister tonight, Jack, but you chose not to, as you were otherwise engaged, as usual. We had a splendid time with Lord and Lady Cleaver tonight, and Adam is a charming young man who is very much besotted with your sister. She will benefit greatly from this union and will have lifelong security, do you not want that for her?" Jack's heart sank, he knew he'd let her down, but he had had no idea that their mother and father had arranged for poor Ivy to wed Adam fucking Cleaver over the course of one evening!
"But Father, see reason! She has only been out for mere days, give her a chance to find someone appropriate! You cannot do this!"
"I believe I can, son. Adam Cleaver is more than an appropriate match for Ivy. She knows marriage is what comes next for a young lady of her age, why not a future Earl who can provide for her? He has more money than most, who would you prefer for her to marry, may I ask?"
"Does Ivy even want to marry him? Did you even think to ask her what she wanted?!"
"Ivy knows her role, son. Moreso than another child of mine I will not name, but I most certainly do not need permission from you to do what is best for my family." Jack was furious, but most of all, guilty; guilty that he was nowhere to be found while his poor little sister was being sold off to that whoreish blonde cunt who would surely make her life a misery; leaving her to rattle around in Clyvedon manor while he bedded every wench across the city.
He clenched his fists, willing the red mist to disperse. He turned to leave Peter's study downstairs to make his way up the large staircase of the family home, his heart slamming inside his chest. What was done was done, but he could be there for Ivy now.
"Ivy, I just heard," he panted upon reaching her bedroom door, "are you alright?" Ivy smiled sweetly, masking the pain behind it. She desperately wanted to burst into tears and fall into his arms; to beg him to take her far, far away from London, never to return.
She knew that could never happen though, she'd already told herself not to shed anymore tears, so what could she do? Why, she would do what she was told, for that's all she was good for. She would endure whatever her life was going to be, and that was that. She truly had been thrown to the wolves, she may as well just lie down and let whatever was to be, be.
"I am well, brother," she nodded, giving him a reassuring squeeze on the arm as he went to sit beside her on the bed. "Do not worry." Jack peered into her eyes, he knew her better than anyone, and usually knew when she was lying; but this time he was not sure what she was thinking, how she was feeling. He couldn't read her, which unnerved him.
"Are you honestly telling me you are happy to be marrying Adam Cleaver? I know most ladies fall for his charms, but I did not think you would be one of them." Ivy's face softened, she took her brother's hand and held it to her chest.
"Of course I am not happy about it, Jack," she replied plainly, "but what can I do? Father said it himself, the deal is done, and when does father ever change his mind? There is nothing you or I can do, therefore you have to accept it, as must I." Jack grasped her hand, saddened yet somewhat impressed by his sister's sudden resilience, as if she were maturing before his very eyes.
"Come on," Jack said, standing up and holding out his hand to her. "I think you could do with a drink."
They walked out of Ivy's bedroom to his, where she sat down in a large, very squishy emerald green velvet armchair, sinking into the cushions while Jack poured them some scotch, and handing her a glass as he sat on a matching seat next to her.
They talked, and laughed, and reminisced for over an hour before Ivy retired back to her own room, the scotch warming her blood, and feeling somewhat lighter after having seen Jack. Maybe my future won't be so bad, she thought, maybe Cleaver will spend most of his time away from home, exhaust himself on whores before he passes out in a drunken stupor in his own quarters to even consider bothering me. One can only hope.
