by Lucia Ashta
“Samuel is a good son. He will marry whomever we think is best for him. Isn’t that right, Samuel?”
“Yes, Mother.” I sympathized with what I imagined was Samuel’s restrained misery. We’d gotten along well so far but surely no one wanted to marry a stranger.
“That’s how it should be,” Father said. “I’m sure that’s what we all did, in our generation. We didn’t question our parents’ judgment. And now we see that our parents did know best.”
The adults nodded in agreement and muttered some comments about how today’s children were so much more rebellious than they’d ever thought of being.
I resisted my tongue’s impulse to unravel and strike with words like a viper. Rebellious? How might we be rebellious when our parents told us what we must do every important step of the way? Their comments were ridiculous.
I flicked my gaze to Samuel and wondered if he shared any of my thoughts. If he did, I couldn’t tell from his immutable expression. He played the role of the consummate son of a count and countess well.
My mind glazed over even as the adults discussed the possibility of my marriage to Samuel. I made a mental note to check the atlas later to find the exact location of Chester. I risked a look at Gertrude and found her looking at me already. I bore a tear back, and Gertrude turned her gaze to her food. She’d barely eaten, even though I knew Martha’s crêpes were one of her favorite dishes.
Bertha and John cleared the last of the pear compote, cheeses, and nuts.
“Children, you will go to the playroom with your governesses.” Father’s eyes rested on me, but he addressed Samuel. “Samuel, would you like to join Clara in the library?” That was the moment I realized I ceased to be a child in Father and Mother’s eyes.
Now, I was a business transaction.
“Yes, Sir,” Samuel said.
“It would be good for you two to acquaint yourselves. And you will, of course, be chaperoned.” Father turned to the staff. “John, let Maggie know she’s needed in the library.”
“Right away, Milord.”
“Let’s retire somewhere more private,” the Count of Chester said to Father. “We have much to settle.”
Father pushed back his chair. “What’s your liking? Brandy? Cognac?”
“Good man,” the Count of Chester said. “Those will work for me.”
Father made eye contact with Bertha. She nodded and retreated to the kitchen. She knew the drill.
The women would not be part of the business talk. After a lifetime of it, they knew their places well, and they withdrew to the fireside in Mother’s favorite parlor.
Awkwardly, Samuel and I advanced to the library. I was acutely aware of every step he took and how his body moved close to mine as we walked. We collided more than once. By the time we made it to the library, embarrassment flushed our faces, and I wished the night would just be over already.
Maggie waited for us while she tended a burgeoning fire, and I flashed her a grateful look. I was glad it was she and no one else that would witness this uncomfortable exchange.
That first night, Samuel and I performed a stilted routine of empty pleasantries. But by the second day, our parents left us alone while they went on hunts and picnics, and Samuel and I discovered that we enjoyed each other’s company.
Of course, what we appreciated most was not on our parents’ imagined list of ladylike and gentlemanly activities. However, they didn’t know exactly what we did, just that we were appropriately supervised by a lady’s maid.
Samuel and I ran through the gardens behind the house when the sun was brightest, dispelling the chill of winter and leaving Maggie far behind. As was her obligation as my lady’s maid, assigned to supervise courtship, she went through the motions of monitoring us at all times. However, her motions were purposefully half-hearted.
If anyone at the manor house understood my predicament, it was she. She was working hard to conceal her compassion from Samuel, but I saw it. I’d never been more grateful that Maggie had Mother’s trust.
“You know,” Samuel said, “I’d been dreading coming here to meet you.”
I laughed, and he continued. “Since the very moment my parents announced that I was to marry the ‘eldest daughter of the House of Norland. Quite a catch,’ they said. ‘And pretty too.’” He blushed, but only for a second.
“I’d been dreading meeting you too,” I said. “It’s such a strange thing, isn’t it? To think that our parents arrange for us to marry with no thought as to whether or not we’ll get along or even like each other.”
I paused to look at the sandy blonde hair that had broken loose of the careful haircut meant to keep every strand of hair in place. It fell across Samuel’s forehead, making him look more like a boy than a young man.
“What could be more important than the person you share your life with? Yet for our parents, it’s all about wealth and power, and a deal that benefits both parties.”
It was a bold thing to say. I’d barely met Samuel, and I was a girl. Girls weren’t supposed to voice their opinions unless they were restricted to fashion and needlepoint.
Yet, Samuel seemed to appreciate my opinion. A dash of hope dared to skip across my frightened heart.
“I fully agree. I’ve been hearing about what my future wife would need to bring to the table in order for us to marry for so long now that it seems that my parents have completely forgotten that I’m a person not a bargaining chip, and that my future wife is too.” His glance toward me was cautious.
“Do you know what your parents are getting out of our marriage?” I didn’t dare look at Samuel after I asked. I was certain this was crossing the boundaries of what a bride was allowed to say. But I had to ask. My future happiness was being dealt away. At the very least, I wanted to know why.
“Oh, I think Father is getting a summer house in Wilkershire out of it along with a substantial dowry. Maybe some horses too. I don’t know precisely. I haven’t exactly been part of the negotiations.”
Wow. The summer house in Wilkershire. It was a large house that Mother had worked hard to get just right. We went there for weeks at a time during the summers, and Mother worked almost non-stop on the interior décor and the maintenance of the gardens while we were there.
“The house in Wilkershire is a working estate,” I said. “Lots of farmsteads.”
Samuel shrugged noncommittally.
A minute passed in silence while I gathered the courage to ask what I wanted to next. I nibbled on the inside of my lip. We watched some birds pecking at the ground, searching for food. “Do you know what my parents are receiving in exchange for our union?”
“I do.” Even though I wasn’t yet familiar with Samuel’s ways, it sounded like he was trying to keep aversion from his voice. “Father has entered the King’s favor as of late. The King has already promised him a new title. The Duke of Luchesy opposed the King’s new taxation policies, and so the King is stripping him of his title and his lands.”
“I see.” And I did. That meant that the Count of Chester would soon become the Duke of Luchesy. If Samuel was in line to become a duke, then as his wife, I would be in line to become a duchess. Father and Mother dreamt of being the parents of a duchess.
“My parents are selling me off for land and wealth. Your parents are selling you off for a title and the King’s favor.” He laughed a bitter laugh. It was in that instant that I decided I liked him—or, at least, that I would learn to like him. Neither one of us appreciated what our parents were doing to us, nor did he seem to appreciate the cutthroat tactics of the nobility.
He turned toward me. The sun filtered between distant tree branches to freckle his face with light. “The pairing could have been worse though. Right?”
His smile was a timid entreaty. “I think we could learn to like each other, regardless of titles and obligations.” Even though he didn’t pose this last part as a question, it was one. Would I be willing to give our union a real chance and make the best of a difficult situatio
n?
He waited for an answer, tension creeping back into his limbs the longer I took to reply.
Finally, I smiled. “Of course. We can find a way to make this work. As you say, it could have been worse. Much worse.”
“You have no idea. My parents tried to arrange marriages with other girls before you. All the alliances fell through. Thank God. I met the girl that was to be my fiancée in the most recent marriage negotiations.”
“What was she like?”
“Oh she was terrible. Well, perhaps not terrible, but I was terrified at the thought of a life with her.”
“Why?” Unlike most young ladies in my position, I didn’t enjoy gossip. Still, I couldn’t resist my curiosity.
“All she spoke of was the latest fashion, her hair, her makeup, and the silly comings and goings of those in our social circle. When my parents took me to meet her, she spent an entire half-day speaking of a scandalous affair at the King’s court. I thought I would die from boredom and acute lack of interest right then.”
I smiled, this time a genuine one. He smiled back, mimicking my warmth.
“Why did your parents reject her, and the other prospects, as your bride?” I asked, although perhaps the answer was an obvious one.
Samuel shrugged. “I think it had much to do with your father making mine the better offer. Now it will probably be my brother’s fate to marry that girl. As soon as Father marries me off, he’ll be onto Winston next.”
“Oh, poor Winston then. If this girl is as trivial as you say she is.”
Samuel tensed, inexplicably, I thought. “Yes, well, Winston can take care of himself. I’d worry more about the girl than him. I’ll pity whichever unfortunate girl ends up marrying my brother.”
I turned to him, green eyes alive with inquisitiveness. I didn’t connect much with three of my sisters, the middle ones, but I liked them even though we were different from each other. Samuel didn’t sound as if he liked Winston at all.
Samuel shrugged again in answer to my unspoken question. “He’s unkind,” he said, then looked away, beyond the manicured shrubbery of the gardens, gazing at memories of other times. “He’s always been quite purposefully cruel to me and our younger sisters. Even when he was a boy. I’m two years older than him, but he’s the bully in the family. He’s always had this mean streak in him. He enjoys causing others pain.”
There was a long pause while I considered how fortunate I was to have the five sisters I did. Sure, we fought just like any siblings did. But none of my sisters had ever done anything to hurt me on purpose.
Samuel visibly reined himself in from unpleasant recollections. “Thankfully, Winston has nothing to do with our alliance. And I’ll have no interest in continuing any kind of relationship with him once we’re married. If we’re lucky, once you meet him at the wedding, neither one of us will ever have to see him again.”
I nodded, not knowing what else to do in response to this terrible brother I hadn’t heard of until just then.
Samuel grew silent again for another minute, and when he continued speaking, he was wistful. “I’d given up on thinking that my future wife might be someone whose company I’d enjoy.”
“You’re the first of my potential suitors that I’ve met.”
“Let’s hope I’m also the last.” He reached a hand toward mine, snuck a glance behind his shoulder—no sign of Maggie catching up to us—and squeezed and held my hand in his. “I think that we may enjoy a life together.” A pause while he searched my eyes. “Do you?”
With the sun hitting them, his eyes were the color of Father’s favorite brandy. “I do.”
Samuel grinned. “Good. Then that’s settled.”
It was a futile attempt at reclaiming a bit of the power our parents had taken from us. We were going through motions that would have no effect on our parents’ negotiations, but it still felt nice to think we had some choice in the matter that would determine so much of our future.
Samuel bounced up from the bench we sat on, pulling me up with him. “Now, why don’t you show me a bit more of the gardens before your lady’s maid finds us?”
He led me by the hand into the hedge-trimmed labyrinth. I followed, giggling. We were two children at play, locked into the roles of adults by our parents.
We separated in the labyrinth, hiding from each other, tumbling into shrubbery and losing our way, and then finally laughing until our sides hurt when we discovered each other. Our cheeks flushed pink as much from excitement as from the cold.
In the late afternoon, we took a carriage ride through the countryside, bundled in blankets. We ignored the scenery as Samuel told stories of his childhood, and I relished the adventures only boys were allowed to have.
“Don’t worry,” Samuel had promised, “once we marry, I’ll teach you how to fish. We can slip away without telling anyone where we’re going. When we are lord and lady of our own house, we won’t have to give any explanations about anything. We can spend our days fishing if we want to.”
“Really? That sounds fabulous. Mother never lets my sisters or me do anything fun. We’re only allowed to do ‘ladylike’ things. And I’ve discovered that ladylike activities are rarely fun.”
“We can spend our days fishing and traipsing through the mud if you desire it.” Mischief flashed across his face, and I realized it was unlikely that he’d been allowed to traipse through the mud much either. If his parents were anything like other counts and countesses I’d met, children were meant to be kept mostly out of sight and always impeccably proper and clean.
Samuel instructed the driver to pull over by a small pond. We fed ducks some bread Samuel had stashed in his pocket with the hope of finding exactly these interested parties. When the bread ran out, Samuel took my hand, and we ran away from the ducks together.
The ducks followed us all the way up the hill to the carriage before they relented, which was a good thing, because neither Samuel nor I could stand straight from so much laughter. We would have been easy pickings for a belligerent duck.
Even Maggie, sitting next to the driver up front, had a smile on her face as Samuel helped me back onto my seat. When the driver turned the horses back toward Norland, the sun began to set, coloring the sky and my heart with hopeful colors.
When Father sent Samuel and me to the library again that night, we didn’t sit on different armchairs as we had the night before. We shared a loveseat, though we sat at an appropriate distance from each other under Maggie’s supervision—with the knowledge that a parent could walk into the library at any time.
We settled comfortably into the stuffed upholstery and the knowing that good fortune had finally shone upon us. Our parents would obligate us to marry, but we would enjoy pleasant companionship and a chance at a good life together.
When the guests’ carriage pulled away the next morning, Samuel waved to me out the window. I watched the carriage long after Father and Mother had gone in, until Samuel’s face became a speck in the distance and I could no longer see his smile. Then the horses turned at the end of our long drive and pointed toward Chester.
The Unhappy Happy News
I’d grown used to the idea: Samuel and I would marry in springtime. Mother and the Countess of Chester were consumed with the punctilious details of a wedding celebration worthy of our status, exchanging almost daily correspondence with an urgency I didn’t share.
My life hadn’t changed at all in the present. My days were occupied with the usual lessons—geography, literature, Latin, French, Italian, and piano—under the tutelage of our demanding governesses. My sisters and I were escorted outside for fresh air in the afternoons, allowed to remain in the gardens for longer than before now that the days were beginning to warm up. Spring was just around the corner.
In the evenings, our governesses led us through interests appropriate to young women with the destinies we all shared thanks to our birth: to become good wives of the nobility. We embroidered flowers on all sorts of doilies while our governesses rem
inded us that we should learn to find fulfillment in these kinds of things.
But even as my life hadn’t changed in the immediate, the idea of my future loomed above me with all the threat of dark and foreboding clouds, harbingers of a violent thunderstorm. As much as I liked Samuel and was at ease knowing I’d escaped a much worse fate with a much worse groom, there was no denying the nearly-constant jumble of nerves in my stomach.
My life was about to become nearly unrecognizable.
Our entire family would travel to Chester. I would marry, and only my parents and sisters would return to Norland Manor. I’d remain behind to begin a life with my new husband. I would be under the tutelage of my mother-in-law, and she would teach me the duties of the wife of a potential future count and duke.
I had no more of a say in the planning of my future than I did of my present or my past. However, I’d managed one small victory. Although to Mother it was next to nothing, a decision she made quickly for reasons entirely free of emotion, it meant the world to me.
Maggie and I had gone over how I would say it dozens of times. I practiced precisely what I would say and precisely how I would say it. However, as I prepared to knock on the open door to the study where Mother was bent over her desk writing the Countess of Chester, my nerves wouldn’t settle. All of a sudden, my collar felt too tight, my corset unbearably oppressive, and my palms sweaty.
I knocked. Without looking over her shoulder, Mother told me to wait a minute. That minute expanded into at least thirty in my mind before Mother gave me her full attention and gestured for me to take a seat next to her.
“What is it, Clara?”
“Well, Mother, I, um, was hoping to speak with you about something.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, Clara? ‘Um’ is so unladylike. Omit it from your speech.”
“Yes, Mother.”
She cast a regretful glance at the correspondence I interrupted before sitting back in the high seat of her chair and folding her hands across her lap.
Her eyes were fixed on me. A rivulet of sweat began to snake its way along the bones of my corset.
