June 1821
The sun was finally setting, dipping far to the horizon and over Westside Manor, a glow like never before hung beautifully. Hues of pink and gold cast across the sky, giving a sense of serenity and peace. It was the most beautiful sight. Perhaps the sunset was the same as before. Perhaps, nothing was a stranger. Perhaps the only difference was the promised visitors to come. Gwen stood in her room with her back against the wall, watching outside the window that overlooked the yard, waiting, listening for the invited party. Her nerves were in disarray as her fingers would not stop tingling. She watched as the gentle evening breeze troubled the tiny grasses while the leaves of the big trees danced to it, mocking it. She felt the tingle again and recognized it. It was the same feeling her fingers always retained whenever she played the piano, or ate something truly delicious, or got away with her naughty ways. It was the tingle of excitement. For a moment, she thought of the piano she had not played in a long while, missing the excitement and happiness she gained wherever the keys were under her fingers, obeying her every command. There was no piano to play now but the excitement remained, rooting from another reason, stemming for another objective; branching towards another purpose: the visit and possible receiving of her future husband. Slowly, Gwen rubbed her palms together trying to calm her fingers, before nervously sliding them over her hair. Was she properly dressed? Was her hair beautifully designed? She hoped so. Beth had done it and had promised it was beautiful. As there was the possibility that she might be called into the Marble Room later on, to see and know her future groom; and his family, of course, she hoped to appear flawless. She would be introduced to the man she would share her life with. Not now, though, someday, when she finally turned eighteen. A betrothed. She had a betrothed. Mother had told her a few days before that, at birth, she had been betrothed to the son of the Viscount of Sorway – the next Viscount. Although Gwen had been confused, she had accepted her family's decision and when Beth had acquired a portrait of him – how it was she was able to, Gwen had no knowledge – she had fully accepted her fate. Her quite good-looking fate. She was happy. Her family had prepared for her a husband so she did not have to worry about the hassle of finding one for herself after making her debut in society as a young lady of marriageable age. Poor Beth had been made to undergo a series of lessons as she would be making her debut in a few months. Gwen had been excluded from most of the classes her sister had been made to attend, but although mother had assigned her to some, they were not as cruel as Beth's classes, or so she liked to think. She would not have to prepare for the London season as her dear sister. Her life was planned and she wasn't complaining. It was a perfect thought; a perfect plan. She realized she was smiling, but she couldn't help it. The smile dwelt on her face, threatening to rip it apart, hurting her cheeks. The family was happy and although Beth was happy for her, still she wondered – why did she have a marriage prospect but Beth was without one? Gwen jerked, thinking she had heard movement along the yard, but it was silent, no nuance of carriage wheels. With a sigh, she inspected the yard to confirm that their guests were truly yet to arrive, then pulled the faded draperies close, to lean against the wall again. There was no one. Beth was older than her and should have one already if that was the way of the family. In a few weeks, her sister would be eighteen and when the London season came, she would make her debut into society. She was simply thirteen yet she already had a man's proposal. How was it possible? Gwen walked to the mirror to inspect her look and smiled, satisfied with it. Did her family make the arrangements because she was younger? Or because her sister was already prepared to debut into society? She paused. They couldn't have. Mother said it was made when she was nothing but a baby, and said someday it would all make sense. She hoped the day came quickly and that it would indeed become sensible. It was confusing, but she trusted her family, they had her best interest at heart, of that, she was sure. The sound of galloping horses halted her thoughts and pulled her attention outside. This time, unmistaken, she heard movements. Gwen thrilled. They had come, they had finally come! With haste, she raced and looked through the windows – peeped actually, eager to know. Her heart was pounding with curiosity. The approaching team of horses were magnificent, with a powerful and sturdy look. They pulled with them a carriage of equal status on which hung a flag. The flag was engraved with an emblem like Gwen had never seen before – a crowned pigeon on a green patch of grass, encircled by a gold band. It must be the Coat of Arm of Sorway, she thought, smiling. Their entrance was an elaborate show. They must be a powerful family, she thought. She continued to look through faded draperies and saw her father and brother come down to meet the carriage, standing inches away, waiting to meet their guests. Gwen remained fixed to the window, waiting as well for the passengers to alight, curious to know them, impatient to wait anymore to know him. The man her family thought was right for her. The man she had been promised to. After what felt like an eternity to the curious and impatient young woman, the carriage door finally opened, and a man alighted, taking great time. He was of average build, hardly tall, but tall enough to shame a dwarf, or so it was from where she stood. He had greying hair on his head, and chin of equally greying beard. He was richly dressed and an air of aloofness hung around him. He had to be Lord Cossington, the current Viscount of Sorway, she thought. Gwen's nose twitched. He did not hold her interest. It was not him she was waiting to see. He was not the one she hoped to see. The man shared a short handshake with her father and waited for her brother, Eric, to bow to him, before waving his hand to the carriage, urging someone to come forth. Her eyes automatically went to the carriage again. Very slowly and with an entirety of charisma, like he owned all the time in the world, a much younger version of the Viscount stepped down and Gwen's anticipation exploded. Her groom had come! she thought. He was not as young as she was, possibly as old as Beth or a bit older, but young still, tall enough for his supposed age, and equally richly dressed. He shook her father after a slight bow and gave a short handshake to Eric. He leaned in and spoke to his father before her father ushered them into the Manor. Gwen moved and the draperies dropped, hiding her from them, the silly smile remaining on her face. She couldn't stop it, neither did she want to. Her future husband had come, and although there was not enough time to scrutinize him perfectly, he was every bit as handsome as the portrait Beth had provided her, not that she cared for that. She intended to love him either way. He was taller than his father, though not as tall as Eric, had brown hair and was showing off a man who knew the authority and security of his status in the society. One who would not only be a protector to her but a protector to all round about him. Delirious with joy, she ran off to her bed and buried her head in the fray bed covers, laughing gaily and bizarrely. How great was the man she was meant to love? Gwen questioned, rolling about in her bed cover. Love? What was it she knew about such love? Her cheeks burnt from the embarrassment of her thoughts. She knew nothing of it. Gaining enough sobriety, she sat up with a start. She would learn, Gwen decided, falling back again, bringing her head to rest on a pillow, careful not to make a mess of her hair. With her eyes stationed on the ceiling, she soliloquized. In a matter of years, she would be married and made to run her home as a Viscountess, she intended to be steadfast and she was prepared to learn. Learn the ways of his family and the ways of a wife. With a giggle, she brought her palms to her face, blushing and rolling about in her bed again. How great was it to know of one's future. Father had promised to allow her into society early. She would attend balls and parties knowing her betrothed waited for her. He would dance the night away with her and she would feel safe in his arms. In society, she would be protected by her father, her brother, and now her betrothed. What greater blessing could come? All too suddenly, Gwen sat up again, almost causing her head to reel. She simply must cease reading Beth's books. They continuously filled her head with nonsense and thoughts that should not be. Thoughts their mother would never approve of. Gwen wished the piano was still in the Manor, so she could play and play and let the melody fill her rather than thoughts of her married life that was still in the far future. She wished the piano had not been removed so she could allow her immense happiness float out of her fingers into joyous melodies. The joy she was feeling was so mighty she was unsure how to use it. Perhaps like Beth, she should write about it. Gwen wasn't one to play with an inkpot and parchments. She would rather choose to race around the Manor or engage in activities to cause one to worry than sit still or pick up a book to read. She enjoyed physical work, no matter how unproductive, she enjoyed it, but at the moment, she was bursting with excitement and needed to contain it. She couldn't run around the Manor or walk about their land, their mother would have a fit. Maybe if she really scribbled in a book like Beth, or on a parchment as she had no books, she would be able to take a hold on her emotions.Without a second to lose, she ran to her table, grabbed a parchment and sat down to write about her future groom.She wrote:They are here! The family that I am to one day be a part of, they have come! They seem strong and wealthy, and even though I do not care for those, Mother says it is best if they are present, for they would grant security. I suppose I shall be very secure then.'She giggled.'I saw him. It should be him for why would it not be? A young man, maybe a little younger than Eric, but like Eric, a man already. He is handsome, more than the portrait of him I possess. And powerful too.I do not know why Father and Eric asked me to remain in my room, it is strange, I must admit, and I wish to obey them but I am too curious to sit still. I want to know him; to hear his voice and know what my prospective husband thinks of me. I cannot believe that in five mere years to come, I shall be married. I would not be paraded around in the London season of my coming out.Is it a mys
Gwen was utterly confused.Was she truly the entity of discussion?Why did the room continually fall into silence?Who was the Duke that drew so much bone of contention?!Someone coughed lightly. "Lord Cossington, the young lady remains the same that was spoken of here on this contract. Guinevere. Except you mean to break the contract, she remains the same."So it was her they were discussing."No, she doesn't." It was the voice of the older man again. "It is clearly stated in the contracts except you, Fitzgerald hopes to blind me with lies.""Lord Cossington!""My son was promised Guinevere! The daughter of a Duke, with fortune and a great title, not the daughter of a poor land baron, who's scrapping food together and can barely get by. Or do you suppose it is not known to the ton of your falling out of the little wealth you have?"Silence fell on the room again, gaining length by the passing seconds.Gwen could hear herself breathing. She could hear her breathing, and it was irregul
She saw Beth put her other hand over the first hand on her mouth and knew her sister was trying not to make herself known even with a whimper. The door remained slightly ajar but the conversations and voices travelled away. A shrill sound replaced them, threatening to destroy Gwen's hearing.She was beyond shocked. She was mortified. A proposal, a preposition to be a mistress? Impossibly, she leaned further into the wall, wishing to be one with the shadows. How had Lord Cossington come to such a conclusion?She was no longer a child, she was very aware of what the Viscount's preposition meant. She was to become the mistress of the man who was, a few minutes before, her betrothed. She knew perfectly what that meant too.The family thought Beth to be the one vast in knowledge as she enjoyed reading, but she was not dumb. She had on one occasion or the other taken a liking to one of Beth's books and the knowledge might sometimes be vulgar for her young mind but they were knowledge nevert
September 1826True to Lucy's words, Carlisle Crest was indeed magnificent.Gwen's eyes remained on the lands, outside the window. From the turn they made to enter the estate, to the mansion they were arriving at, she was marvelled by how magnificent it was. Raising her head, she saw that the lights from the mansion up ahead were bright and they gave the mansion a thorough and proper look. It was an ethereal view.The driveway was packed as people took their time chatting and enjoying proper promenades. Many women giggled into their fists and a group of young men clustered together, stealing glances at the women. Young men of desirable age, and young women of marriageable age, looking to marry.From where they were on the tardy queue, Gwen could already hear the music. It was loud and upbeat, fun and worthy of a good dance. She couldn't wait to be a part of it, whiling away to the fast and slow dances, the meaningless chats and the untrue smiles.Like trees, stationary people slowly w
She placed her hands behind her and danced slowly away from Mr. Jones before returning, as did other dancing ladies. Mr. Jones smiled at her and she broadened hers in return, pushing her cheeks higher until they wouldn't lift anymore. They would hurt later, that was certain. He turned her and she again mirrored his dance, falling into steps with him. His hand stayed above the small of her back. At least he was a gentleman. He would make a good husband, she thought. "I don't think I have had the opportunity to be in your presence before today. Is this your first time at Carlisle crest?" He initiated a conversation. Gwen obliged his attempt, raising the pitch of her voice. "It is. It is my very first time. I take it you have been here many times yourself." "I have. The Dowager Duchess invites us, my family and I, every time there is a ball. I dare say she is fond of us." "I see." She nodded, thinking. 'Did not everyone get invited to Carlisle Crest?' She turned on the spot as did ot
Over the years, her sister and her parents had protected her whenever she was out in society, telling the young men she had danced with that although she was out of her schoolroom – not that she had any to begin with – she was young and not ready for marriage, nor sort of relationship with a man, howbeit, gentle. But she would be eighteen soon and expected to debut as a young woman ready for marriage, Gwen could not wait to be married and instead of waiting for age to come before a proposal, she had decided to put them in reverse. She would not wait for a groom, her groom would wait for her to attain age, then marriage.It was the perfect plan.The music stopped and the dancers bowed to their respective partners. Gwen did the same, bowing and with the shake of her head, declined dancing with him again. She left and walked over to Lucy who she had seen when she was still dancing, but before she could utter a word, Lord D'Averette left the man he was engaged in a conversation with and c
* * *As soon as the door of her room closed, the smile on Gwen's face vanished like it was never there before. Her cheeks ached and her lips felt numb from all the smiling. She flexed her jaws in hope to relieve the tension. The day had been beyond tiring.The ball was still very much underway when they left for Rosethorn Hill. As much as she was weary of the falsehood, she couldn't say much as she must keep the show of enjoying herself. But not Beth, who had had her fill, as with Lucy by her side, they convinced Aunt Marrily and Uncle Fitzwilliam to listen to their pleas and leave early. Through the course of the ball, Gwen had lost count of the number of gentlemen she had danced with, and was immensely glad when she had been gestured over. She was glad to leave.She walked over to the armoire and began to remove her dress. First the dress fell, pooling at her feet then the corset, and every other underwear. She wore her night garment, wrapped a shawl around her shoulder and sat on
"Pull!" Alexander yelled.A target was released into the air and he shot at it with perfect accuracy, bringing it down in bits and shards. Swiftly, he switched his musket with another loaded one and prepared again to engage: gun supported underneath with his left hand, butt to his shoulder, right index finger on the trigger, eyes focused; ready to follow the target as soon as it was released. From his line of sight, he saw someone approaching but he was too concentrated to turn or be concerned.He blinked and slowly released his pelt up breath. "Pull!" He yelled again.Another target went in the air and with his pressing on the trigger, the target disappeared into pieces and nothingness, scattering everywhere.He switched his musket and returned to his original stance point. "Pull!"Again, another target was released and destroyed. He stopped and watched the remains of his target reach the ground, then set the musket butt down with a gentle thud. "Hold." He told the servants who were