There was a time when the thought of an arranged marriage chilled me to the bone. It incensed me with an anger that left me resenting my family and the society in which we lived. Rules had been set in 1776. Since then, my family, along with other members of our hidden community, abided by the system.
I had been well informed by the time I turned ten. My future had already been planned out for me. Of course, my young age didn’t permit me the skill or knowledge to question the motives of my heritage, nor did it allow me the freedom to do the things other girls my age did.
My mother had been in the same position as me. She had been promised to my father when she was five years old. It had never really clicked until my own coming of age—she had dreaded her own arranged marriage just as much as I did.
I had been born into a world full of prestige and luxury. I never knew what it was like to be hungry or to go without. Living this lifestyle, however, came with a price.
The ache was unlike anything I was accustomed to. A mixture of nerves and uncertainty that left my heart thumping. The closer I got to the day, the more the anxiety grew.
My brothers accepted what was to come, even though they found it hard to stomach. My father saw it as another closing of a business deal and my mother busied herself with silly functions and shopping.
I was left alone to ponder, to wonder and to predict my future. Nothing but my thoughts accompanied me. The idea that seizing the night was something to be proud of riddled me with so much fear and uncertainty.
Little did I know, the claiming was only the beginning of a whirlwind affair with more than just my legacy.
* * * *
I remember the first time my father had given me a horse. I had been five years old, excited and in awe of such a majestic animal. My father had clearly stated that I had to know how to control a beast three times my size. I never truly understood the hidden symbolism in offering me such a gift. Not until it was too late to turn my back on all I knew and thought I loved.
Detached and often cold, my parents shielded me from the world. Being British only added to their detached attitude toward parenting. My brothers and I had been raised in an environment unlike anything the twenty-first century was prepared to accept. It was our way of life. A birthright and legacy that had been passed down through the lineage of our pure bloodline. Who was I to question the choices made for me? Not once in my life would I have guessed where my future lay.
Standing near the window, I watched the rain trickle down the pane. I followed the wet trail downward with my finger, where it disappeared along with the rest of the drops. A sigh escaped me as I closed my eyes. There was no way of avoiding the evening’s events. Some things in life left no room for error and this was one of them.
A knock at the door brought me out of my reverie. “Yes?”
The door opened and in walked my mother. A beautiful woman, she wore her age well. Behind the smile, however, lay her own hidden heartache and trepidation.
“I trust you have rested well, my darling,” she said, striding over to me. She stood beside me and ran her hand down my back.
I sucked in a deep breath. What more could I do? I was to be presented to the one who held my future in his hands.
“Don’t look so glum, sweetheart.” My mother offered me a sympathetic expression.
“I’m fine, Mother, honestly,” I lied.
“Come, we must prepare you.”
I didn’t reply. I switched on that part of my brain that went into autopilot, absentmindedly going through the motions.
My mother led me to the bathroom, where a bath had been drawn. My nanny, Olive, stood nearby, waiting for me to undress.
“Do you wish for me to stay?” my mother asked.
I shook my head. “No, I shall be fine.”
“Very well.”
My mother’s relief at not having to spend another moment in my company was palpable. I could only imagine the wistful thoughts running through her head.
I removed my nightgown and stood naked in front of Olive. She refused to make eye contact with me. It wasn’t until I stepped into the water that she spoke to me.
“I dread tonight,” I said, my voice cracking with emotion.
“I know you do, Francesca,” Olive replied as she sponged water over my back.
Olive had been my nanny and all-round caregiver since before I could talk. She had given me love and attention when my parents had thrown up their brick walls. I brought my knees to my chest and tucked them in under my chin as I pondered the night ahead.
“Do you suppose it will be someone old?” I asked.
“I daren’t think about it,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper. “I’d much prefer to think they have chosen well.”
“Don’t you dare cry on me, Olive, or I shall die!”
“I shan’t, my darling. I promise.”
I sat in silence and tried my best to push the anxiety to the back of my mind. I dreaded so many things and desired nothing more than to be wrapped in Olive’s arms. To feel her warmth and protection. I pushed the fear to the side and fond memories floated inside my mind.
I smiled and turned to look at her. “Remember that one time when we went to the carnival in Leeds?” I asked. “We took the train up without Mother’s consent.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“That was such a good day. I could have happily stayed up there.”
“I know, Francesca.” She continued to run the sponge over my back.
“Do you suppose I shall have days like those ever again?”
Olive touched the side of my face, her eyes filling with tears. “I wish I had answers for you, but all I can offer you is my love.”
“I know, Olive.” I burst into tears. “I just cannot comprehend what it is they expect of me. What if he’s a brute? What if he’s bad to me?”
“Don’t focus on those things. They are negative and won’t do you any favors. Remember, this is all you know. This is all you will ever know.”
I splashed water across my face and washed away the tears. “What if I leave?” I asked.
“They would find you and you would be punished. Scorn is not something you can afford to live with.”
Olive held out a towel for me. She looked down as I stood and stepped from the bath.
“What if he repulses me?”
“Don’t burden your mind with these thoughts, or you shall wear the fear on your face tonight.”
I let out a long breath and shrugged, almost admitting defeat. “I apologize. I have no one but you to express these fears to.”
Olive wrapped the towel around me and pulled me into her arms, embracing me tightly. “I know. God knows, I know.”
“Promise me something, Olive?”
“For you, my darling, anything.”
“When I come back tonight, will you rest with me?”
“Absolutely,” she said, kissing my forehead. “Now, come. We must get you ready.”
I stood beside my bed, refusing to allow another bad thought to run through my mind. Instead, I focused on going back to school on Monday, on taking my final exams, while looking forward to my week-long break in the Cayman Islands. That, at least, lessened the burden.
As I slipped on my fresh underwear, Olive carried my dress over to where I stood, holding it out in front of me. I glanced at her, wishing she’d share her thoughts with me. She would never truly tell me what was going through her mind, however.
“Your mother chose this especially,” she said.
“I know. Mother has exquisite taste.”
“That she does.” Olive nodded, but her frown said otherwise.
“What troubles you?”
“Nothing for you to worry about.”
I knew she was lying. “Please, tell me what is troubling you, Olive.”
“I worry what is to become of me once you leave.”
My heart sank. I could sense her pain, knowing how she worried about me. I dreaded life away from her. Her warm, loving embrace, the way she consoled me when life at school got to be too much, not to mention how she filled the void left by my parents.
“I do, too.” I tried my best not to cry.
“But,” she began, “let’s not trouble our minds with this for now. Let’s focus on tonight and presenting you in a manner in which your grandfather will be proud.”
Olive was right. She always was.
“Do you suppose I am what he expects?” I asked, searching her face for some kind of reassurance.
“Francesca, he has seen you grow. He has witnessed your blossoming from afar.”
Inside, I screamed. I knew her words to be true, but I never quite knew who he was, which unnerved me beyond apprehension.
“I guess this has been my birthright since before my conception,” I said, trying not to think too much, but failing miserably.
“Yes, and it will be your daughter’s birthright, too.”
I slipped the cream silk dress over my head and Olive zipped it up at the back. The lace neckline sat just above my breasts. Not too much flesh was on show, just enough to emphasize my womanly figure.
I stared at my reflection. The butterflies began to swarm in droves inside me. Nerves were making their presence known. No matter how much I tried to conceal the evidence, it would present itself, regardless.
“What if I vomit?”
Olive playfully slapped my arm and shook her head. “I dare say if you vomit, your mother, as well as your father, will have a fit.”
I chuckled and ran my hand through my hair. “Can you imagine?”
“Yes, and that’s the worst part.”
I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
Olive rested her chin on my shoulder, gently touching my arms. “Smile, be courteous and remember your family name.”
I nodded and went over to my dresser, sitting down to apply some makeup. Fifteen minutes later, my mother came back in.
“All done?” she asked.
“Yes, Mother,” I said and smiled at her.
Setting down the lipstick, I stood and strolled toward her. She held up her hand.
“Stand there,” she instructed and proceeded to circle me.
Mother assessed me from head to toe. Perfection was the key. She’d never allow me to step into that boardroom with a strand of hair loose or my dress creased.
“Are you to wear your hair down?” she asked.
“I wanted to, yes,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.
“No, I insist on it being pulled back from your face.” She turned her attention to Olive. “Tie her hair back. I want our guest to be able to see her and appreciate her fine looks.”
Olive nodded and came over to me, ushering me back to my vanity. The unease intensified as I sat. A wave of dizziness assailed me. Breathing through it, I refused to give my mother any reason to doubt my state of mind.
My nanny scraped my dark brown hair back, tying it securely in place with a diamante clip. I stared at my reflection. The light of the room shimmered in my hazel eyes, the tears ready to burst their dam. Nonetheless, I demonstrated control.
“Much better,” my mother said. “Very well, let’s proceed, dear.”
The moment had come and I dreaded every second of it.
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