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Arranged Marriage To The
Rogue
Victorian Romance
By: Veronica Wilson
Introduction
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This collection's Riddle:
Q: You stick your poles inside me. You tie me down to get up. I get wet before you do.
What am I?
Can you solve it?
Show Answer!
Arranged Marriage To The Rogue
London, England, Ashdown manor
Autumn, 1814, early morning
“Great news, Lillian!” A woman’s voice woke the girl a moment before her bedroom doors slammed open.
“M—Mother?” She opened an eye, keeping her cover over the lower half of her face, just the way she was taught. It is unladylike to let anyone see your visage before you are presentable, the same voice echoed inside her head.
“They told me it was impossible! They said no one would touch us anymore, but I knew! I knew!” Her mother practically danced across the room as she made her way toward Lillian’s bed. The woman was nearing thirty-two, but was still healthy and beautiful. Her complexion was flawless, yet the gold of her hair was visibly mixed with silver, and the angles of her mouth showed hints of lines. She wore a fashionable, purple dress, and did it with an impeccable sense of style. Something was in her left hand. An opened letter?
Slowly and gracefully, Lillian straightened herself into a sitting position. Most of her was still under the cover. “Mother… would you care to explain just what is going on?” she finally said.
“Why, you are getting married, of course, dear! To a young man of very high birth, to boot! Congratulations!” Her mother sat next to her, embracing her with both arms.
Married? Lillian blushed with exhilaration. She started raising her own hands to embrace her mother back. Just as she was about to actually do so, though, the woman abruptly stood up.
“Lillian! Have you already forgotten what I had told you about that cover? Oh, woe is me! Surely, the Ashdown line will expire if my own daughter cannot do as little as display proper bedside manner!” She placed the back of her hand on her forehead, posing dramatically as she spoke.
Lillian thought about voicing a protest, but it would most certainly do no good. “I am sorry, Mother,” she said, all while lifting the sheet back over herself.
“As you should be, Lillian. It is for your own good, you know! Your future husband will not be half as understanding as I am about these things, and you do know how men are.”
Actually, I do not, mother. Lady Claudia Ashdown was so protective of her daughter that she had barely let her see a boy, let alone a man. Speaking to one was out of the question, let alone anything else that might allow her to learn. What little I know comes entirely from what you have told me.
Paying no heed to her daughter’s silence, the Lady Ashdown kept talking. “A man is never satisfied with anything, despite how much you might try to meet his fancies. Yet, despite this, a man is—“
“Absolutely necessary,” the two of them spoke in unison. Still trying to keep a stern expression on her face, Lady Claudia could not help but reveal a hint of a smile in her eyes.
“Care to grace me with the identity of my betrothed, then?” Lillian asked politely.
“Oh, aren’t we impatient! Fine, I will tell, even though I did want to play the guessing game with you for a little while longer. Sadly, I simply cannot force myself into tormenting you like that! You are to be married to Lord Martin Stanbury, the Lord bless him and his father!”
H—Him? Lillian’s expression said more than her words ever could. She took a long yet discreet breath, and hoped that her mother would not notice. As usual, no detail was ever beneath that woman’s attention.
“Am I to understand that you are displeased with the notion, Lillian?” Lady Claudia’s icy blue eyes froze Lillian in place. Although she had a similar-looking pair herself, she never had learned to use them in such a manner.
Lillian took a moment to think about what she was about to say. She knew that she had to yield before her mother’s wishes, but this time she found it difficult to do. This is my life, she told herself. If I am to do this for the sake of the family, I deserve to know more.
“But he is a rogue! Even I have heard of the things he did! Things he still does!” Lillian’s cheeks blushed somewhat as she voiced her protests. She knew that they would not avail her, but perhaps they would help loosen her mother’s tongue.
“You have, now, have you? I do wonder who you could have heard those venomous rumors from. Ah, but it matters not. In this case, they appear to be factually correct,” her mother ruminated while she still stood above Lillian’s bed.
“So, you’ve heard of his despicable habits? And you will let me marry that—that scoundrel? For goodness’s sake, Mother, why? Am I not a good daughter to you?” Lillian was so invested in her speech that she almost let go of her cover again. Almost.
“Lillian! You are the best daughter a mother could possibly ask for!” Lady Claudia said, putting her hands around her daughter while still standing. Doing so in a corset was not easy, but she made it seem that way. “And it is exactly for that reason that I have arranged this marriage in the first place. I am worried about your future, dearest! You know of our position as well as I do. Without a husband, we— you will lose everything! Without an heir, the family name will die out! Surely you understand your importance in all of this!” She stared into her daughter’s eyes again after she ended her embrace.
“And whose fault is that?” Lillian asked coldly.
The sharp slap that rang out was answer enough. As the numbness started to spread over her cheek, Lillian covered it with the palm of her hand. The Lady Ashdown turned away from her daughter, and darkened the room by standing in front of the window.
“Mother! I…” She wanted to say something that would undo what she had blurted out a moment ago, but nothing good enough came to mind. Instead, she turned toward the mirror, and used the fact that she was unobserved to check the damage.
The lean beauty of alabaster skin that stared back at her was the picture of splendor, despite the rather unsightly red spot on her cheek. Lean, straight limbs that radiated grace extended from a thin yet shapely torso. And then there was her face: not unlike that of a porcelain doll (even without the make-up), yet visibly alive and sensual. Her nose was thin and straight, her lips full and red, and her eyes a piercing blue. Crowning her was a full head of long, golden hair that curled at the ends. Yet the red was still on her cheek, and it offended her with its presence.
“Do you enjoy hurting your mother, Lillian? Do you take pleasure in wrapping your hands around my heart, only to plunge your nails deep
inside?” Lady Ashdown spoke, still with her back turned. Lillian’s stomach tightened at the words, despite the fact that she was not wearing her corset yet.
“Mother, I am sorry. I have indeed crossed my boundaries, and for that I apologize,” Lillian replied.
“You say you are sorry, yes. Yet your actions speak otherwise. Why else would you, after all the two of us have been through, pour salt on your mother’s old wound? Have you already forgotten how much of a laughingstock the family name has become?” Lady Ashdown turned around, letting her daughter see her face. She was crying, and twin streams of black ran down her cheeks.
“Of course not,” Lillian said as her attention involuntarily drifted toward her own thoughts. She could clearly recall the way everyone talked, both to and about her. Her peers ascribed her practically no value at all. “We are seen as little more than plebes playing at being highborn.”
“And why is that so, Lillian? Can you tell me that?”
“Because we have no money anymore, mother.”
“Indeed. But you are skimming around the subject, dear. Look around you! See your home for what it is and what it should be. Imagine what it could be again! Then, press the sides of that little head and tell me why, as the residents of an opulent manor such as this one, we are deprived of something as lowly as currency. Or better yet, don’t! I will do it for you, like I do most everything else! We are in this mess because we do not have a man of the house!” Her mother seemed to have stopped crying, although her make-up still trickled down her cheeks a little bit.
Lillian had wanted to keep her mouth shut. Yet her mother’s insinuations toward her lack of intelligence drove her to say what she did not want. “My answer will not change, mother, regardless of the angle you try to spin your story. Whose fault is it that we do not have a man of the house?”
At first, Lady Ashdown did not say anything. She merely bit the inside of her lip, staring into her daughter’s eyes with the intensity of a blizzard. Then, as the moments passed and her fury slowly subsided, she managed to collect herself enough to say but two words. “His own.”
Lillian went silent. She still refuses to face what had happened.
“Whatever might have occurred, and regardless of your own opinion of it, our situation remains unchanged. We need this marriage, Lillian. The future Lord Stanbury will provide you with stability, and will care for all your needs. What more could you possibly ask for?”
“Perchance that he love me, and only me? That he not drink himself silly every night, nor undress others with his gaze while I am still with him? Is that too much to ask?”
“As a matter of fact it is, Lillian. Men are like that, and the sooner you learn it, the easier your life will be.”
“Well, I do not like it,” Lillian concluded, the look of disapproval evident on her face.
“That I can see. Still, you will thank me one day,” her mother replied as she turned toward the door.
“What about that other man?” Lillian asked just as the Lady Ashdown was about to exit her room.
“Why, just what are you talking about, my dear?” Hints of a chuckle could be noted in her mother’s voice.
“I am referring to Captain Hawkins, of course. He has only been asking for my hand for the last half a year or so. Given how long you have led him on without a proper response, I find it rather difficult that you could have forgotten.”
“Ah, that man. I thought you disliked him thoroughly, my dear. Just where does this sudden interest come from?”
“Oh, I would still rather take a stroll through a rookery than spend a day with that brute. Still, it is just not decent for me to marry someone else right under his nose, don’t you agree?”
“You ought to let me worry about that, dearest. You make yourself pretty for tonight. Work your magic and hide that unsightly thing on your cheek. The future Lord Stanbury will want you at your best!” Her mother exited the bedroom, closing the doors behind her.
Stanbury manor
High noon
With hurried steps, a handsome young man marched down a luxuriously decorated hallway. Even though his expression was one of annoyance, it did little to obfuscate his excessively good looks. He wore all white, a sharp contrast with his fashionably long black hair. He was tall and lean, yet his shoulders were notably wide, making the suit just perfect on him. His face was handsome, yet possessed a boyish quality that only made the intensity of his presence more profound. Baubles and trinkets of all sorts adorned the walls around him, but in his fury he paid them no heed.
“Father, what is the meaning of this?” he shouted as he entered the sitting room at the corridor’s end. The chamber was meant for work and reading, yet it simply screamed luxury. Lacquered wood, fur and high quality leather made up the majority of the furniture, and expensive paintings hung from the walls. Opposite from the door was an impressive desk almost completely covered with papers. Behind it sat a man in his forties. The years were not kind to his face, but it was apparent that he been quite handsome in the past. The clothing he wore more than made up for the effects of age.
“This room is meant for me to work in, silly boy,” the man behind the desk said, putting his quill back in its place. “Why do you ask me questions you already know the answer to? Have I not taught you better than that?”
“Ah, I see that you are determined to deprive me of a straight answer. Very well, then. I will play your game. I have heard—from a member of the staff, no less—that you have arranged for me to be married!”
“You’ve heard correctly, my boy. Your mother has agreed to it as well, so do not dare go and pester her about it. She is feeling ill again, I am afraid. As for not giving you a straight answer, why would I? I see that you are having all the fun in the world playing the fool. Why should I not try it once in a while?” Even though what he said had seemed like a joke, the older man’s expression was completely serious.
“Why?” the young man asked and approached his father’s table, completely ignoring the quip.
“Do I need to spell it out for you, or are a man of Stanbury descent?”
The young man paused for a moment. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and straightened his back. I will not let him get to me. By the time he had opened his eyes, he was no longer angry, yet his position did not change even a little bit. “As expected, you keep insisting on playing this game with me, father. I am asking you, why, of all people, are you marrying me to the heiress of a disgraced house?” he asked.
“From where I am standing, Martin, you two look like a match made in heaven,” the old man replied, this time with a slight chuckle.
Martin stared into his father’s eyes for a moment before breathing in deeply and speaking again. “Everyone knows just how deprived of assets the Ashdowns are, father. Even as displeased as you are with me and my life, even you must realize how bad this will be for both of those things!”
“And why, pray tell, do you think so? You are not exactly the most well reputed young man of your generation. Were it not for me and my money, you’d have liquidated your assets by now and spent most of it on whims and fancies!”
“If I am as worthless as you say, then why, for the love of all that is good and proper, are you doing this to me?” He crossed his arms on his chest.
“To introduce you to the real world, first and foremost. You have been living a life that does not become you, Martin, and I will put a stop to it. You are my son, and you will act like it! Tell me, how many highborn marriages have you brought close to dissolution thus far? As a matter of fact—don’t! I do not want to know.”
“Is it my fault that I am so charming that women cannot help but fall head over heels over me?” Martin replied with a mischievous smile.
“No, I am afraid that the fault is all my own. I am afraid that I have spoiled you, Martin. But that ends, right here and now. You are to grow up and become a real man, or you will go down along with the Ashdowns.” The Lord Stanbury put his foot down.
&n
bsp; “So you would turn me into a scoundrel by fact as well as reputation? It is always comforting to know that family will always be right behind me.”
“Not necessarily, Martin. The Ashdowns do have the potential to rise up again; they are just short on assets to make it happen. If you behave, I will help you revive your new estates, and you will be in for a rather good life. Should you stick to your old ways, however, you will find that things will go rather differently.” The older man raised both his eyebrows, adding some flair to the dark gaze that he directed toward his son.
Martin thought about his answer for a good moment or so. I will not give in. “I think you know this story. ‘A wolf once tried to change his nature by changing his appearance, and thus get plenty to eat.’ We all know how splendidly that went for him.”
“Do not be silly, boy. Your appearance is the last thing I want you to change. Everyone agrees that it is the best thing about you.”
And then everyone wonders where I got my snark. Martin turned around and made his way toward the exit.
“I will need you at your best tonight. We are meeting the Ashdowns for dinner,” the Lord Stanbury commented just when Martin was about to leave the room.
So soon? Very well then. I will take part in this game. “Understood, Father,” he said as stepped into the hallway and closed the doors. However, no one ever said that I have to do it by your rules.
Chuckling slightly, he adjusted his sleeves before proceeding down the hallway. There were things to be done, and so little time for preparation.
Stanbury Manor gates,
Twilight
Lillian gracefully exited the rented carriage, all while holding up the edges of her gown. The coach was expensive, but one had to travel in style. At least, that is what Mother always says.
Arranged Marriage To The Rogue (Victorian Romance) Page 1
