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 mystery or is it accurate that I do not know his name? Perhaps it is how it is done, at least until the final proposal is made. And is it also not strange that I have a betrothed, but Beth does not? Why does she have no prospect of her own? Maybe she went forth to learn the name of her betrothed and the alliance had to be cancelled.' She paused in writing. It should not have been. Could it? 'I intend to visit the Marble Room, I shall remain unnoticed and learn as much as I can of him. My groom, my husband. I shall be a good wife to him and a great mother to the children I will bear him. I hope our family will be as this family, and as fortunate with a happy life as mother and father, and children that would bring joy as much as I, Beth and Eric have brought Mother and Father. A loving family, one that I shall create. Am I already living in the future we shall build together?! I suppose I am. It is how happy the very thought makes me. I should go now. My groom awaits! My future awaits!!' With a profound blush on her cheeks, Gwen left the parchment on the table, and walked out of the room, managing her steps enough to remain quiet. Twilight had come and the sun had finally gone down, leaving a kind glow behind to illuminate the earth before torches could be raised. Slowly, Gwen made her way out, tiptoeing towards the Marble Room, clinging to the walls so no one would notice her – or her shadow. She wanted to know what was being discussed, what kind of future awaited her. Although it was her life, she knew the men made all the decisions, still she would learn of these decisions and establish them perfectly, in hopes to be a better wife than her groom ever thought about. She would be loving, caring and would be a great listener. The thought made her blush again. Arriving at the Marble Room was no easy fit as most of the floorboards on the stairs had come loose and creaked in response to every of her movement, but she was determined to know, and apparently, so was her sister, Beth. Gwen was the least surprised. Beth clung to the shut doors of the Marble Room, leaning lightly on it, trying to listen, curious as her, to find out of the happenings in the room. Gwen halted as soon as she saw Beth and dashed behind a pillar. Any further and she would be discovered and sent back to her room. Gwen sighed. If she was caught and sent to her room, there would be no difference. Hiding behind the pillar was serving no purpose either for she wasn't close enough to hear, nor was the door opened for her to see. It was all uselessness. As though her worries were being heard, Beth managed to pry one door open, enough to not be discovered herself and to gain enough knowledge from the room. With a sly smile, Gwen slowly crept closer to her sister, taking refuge yet again behind another pillar, and another, until she reached a vantage point to hear the conversation of the men in the room, and still remain unseen. "… is not acceptable!" She was taken aback. Surprised at the volume of the voice, and the hint of anger that accompanied the refusal, Gwen leaned in sideways, pushing herself closer. "I believe the contract talks about her, My Lord. This contract was drawn between you and the late Duke." That was her father's voice. "The treacherous Duke, you mean." The voice was unfamiliar. Perhaps it was Lord Cossington's. "It would do no good to pull up dead flies. That is all in the past." "Is it?" Silence. Mrs. Grace, their housekeeper, came to the door and ignoring a shocked Beth, who had been oblivious of her arrival, entered the room with refreshments and until she exited, no word passed among the men. By the door, Beth shushed her with a finger across her lips and a sincere plea in her eyes. The housekeeper gave her a critical look but let her be, returning to the kitchen. What was afoot? Did not her father invite Lord Cossington to discuss the matters of her betrothal, why then did it seem a bit heated in the room? What dead flies? What Duke, and why was he being discussed? Gwen wondered. "Lord Cossington, let us stay in the present and in good faith discuss the future." "The future is already ruined by the past." "I beg your pardon." That was Eric, and he sounded different. He sounded emotional. "I cannot honour this contract, Fitzgerald, because this contract is invalid." "Invalid? How so?" Her father spoke again. Beth moved slightly and Gwen concealed herself even further into the shadows. She had to remain anonymous. "It was signed by two parties," her father continued. "One of which you are, and it was notarized by yours and his solicitors. Why should it suddenly become invalid?" "Fitzgerald," the tone was lazy. "It promises an alliance of two great families, I presume that promise cannot now be kept." What was happening?! And whatever was the Viscount of Sorway saying?! Two great families. Her family was a great one, maybe not in wealth like his, but they were not poor. Her father's lean number of horses have reduced in the past months and the staff of the house had slowly become only Mrs. Grace. The draperies and the bedsheets had become frayed, but compared to others, they were still in use, and the piano had been taken away. She paused and inclined her head. Had they indeed gone poor? "If it is about her dowry," her father yet spoke. "I assure you we will do our best to provide…" "Your best is worthless and you know it." This time, it was the voice of a different person. It was neither the voices of her brother, her father nor the Viscount of Sorway. It was young and held a bit of aloofness. None else was in the room. None else but her betrothed. It was a sombre but proud, deserving of a man of his age and status, but somehow, it was not the voice she had expected. She was not sure what she had been expecting from her future husband, but it was not that. "Be rather careful with your words. I find them quite insulting and we would not be insulted in our home." Eric said. "Geoffrey, what did I tell you about control?" The older, foreign voice cautioned. Gwen started. Geoffrey. His name was Geoffrey. She smiled. It was a nice name. Geoffrey and Gwen, she tried it on for size, still smiling. In a few years the two names would always accompany each other, as too the bearers of the names. When she chuckled into her palm, Beth looked back searchingly, and she quickly seized her breath. How foolish of her to forget she was in hiding. "I apologize, Father, but I am deserving of the best and this_ this girl is far from it." "If you would please take care with your words, she is my sister and I do not take kindly to your bereaving words." "Is she truly? Or is that not why we contend with words here?" Gwen became confused. Was he not her betrothed, or had she been mistaken? Why were his words harsh? If anything, should he not be on her side? She pressed herself further against the pillar, her confusion gaining new heights. "Well," he went on. "take a stand. Is she your sister or is she the daughter of a Duke?" Eric became silent.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
"Do you want to? I had thought your assignment was to win me in a staring competition. Or would you rather I plead you to tell me the results of your scouring?""No Sir, I apologize." Alexander sighed. How did he appoint such men as his most elite soldiers and spies? Suddenly, he feared for his kingdom. Brimsbol began. "The land thieves have been apprehended and thrown in the dungeon, but the wares of the villagers could not be recovered. Farm produce and livestock, gone. They had successfully sold it before we could catch up with them."He became incredulous. A terrible pause ensued. Then, "Excuses! Excuses!! Excuses!!!" He exploded, scaring Brimsbol, Edmund and the other servants who stood around the artificial shade. His eyes remained on the man. He had not meant to yell, but from the report the men had given him, to the news he received the day before from his spies, the frustration had finally caught up to him, vexing him in ways unfathomable. He breathed deeply and strongly. "Wh