Chapter 8 #2
Something seemed to click in Cathy’s head.
She did not wait for any more words from her family.
She turned on her heel so abruptly that she almost fainted.
But she still managed to run. It was what she was good at these days.
Her heavy skirts fought against her legs, but she kept on racing to her father’s study.
She reeled at the smell of stale brandy, tobacco, and sweat.
The place always faintly smelled like this, but that morning was the worst.
Her family had followed her into the room, creating a hurried procession of clacking heels and rustling skirts.
They stood behind her, and even if she was not looking at them, she could feel their emotions washing over her.
Her mouth hung open. Everyone went quiet.
All eyes were fixed on the safe behind the portrait hanging behind her father’s desk.
The safe was wide open, the metal door still swinging on its hinges. Not a single banknote was inside.
Cathy dropped the ledgers she was clutching.
She had meant the day to be a productive one, after she disappeared into the dark recesses of her room for three days.
The ledgers hit the floor. The sound vibrated through the room.
One even hit the tip of her shoe, but Cathy only felt a faraway kind of pain.
She fell to her knees, her eyes still on the empty safe.
She reached for the inner shelves, hoping for a miracle. Hoping to see something left behind.
“Papa took everything,” she sobbed. “He emptied our coffers.”
“It looks like he took every sovereign,” Lady Marlow observed from the doorway.
The baroness had always been known as a strong woman. Today, though, she looked her age as she leaned on her cane.
“He ruined us. The family is no longer merely scandalous, which could have been entertaining. We are officially destitute.”
“How are we to live like this, Grandmama?” Cathy slowly rose from her knees. Though she felt distraught, she remembered that she should be her sisters’ strength. Even more now that their father had left. “Selina has not even been properly introduced. This may ruin Maddy’s Season.”
“Well, at least nobody considered my Season,” Portia muttered.
“Portia!” her sisters exclaimed in unison.
The third eldest girl was more interested in books than in men.
However, Cathy could understand her concerns.
It was one thing to be given the opportunity to say no, and another to be completely discarded.
The outburst was replaced by silence. Cathy could now judge her life based on the noise and silences, the approvals and disapprovals.
“Perhaps there is still hope if...” Lady Marlow suggested, her voice low and somewhat calculated. Cathy was familiar with this tone. The other girls merely gaped at her grandmother.
The baroness placed her cold hand on Cathy’s shoulder, her face softening. Was that pride that she saw?
“The Duke of Baxter has been attempting to call on you for two days now,” the old woman continued. “He sent three messengers, Cathy. He was obviously not asking for your father; he was asking for you. If you are fortunate, he might be interested in marrying you.”
“I told you, Grandmama, I cannot do that!” Cathy protested, backing away as if the very suggestion had become a physical threat. “He is a rake! I would never tie myself to a man like that.”
“Except during that night of the competition,” Madeline murmured, then darted a guilty glance to her right.
“The Duke of Baxter left a woman at the altar in front of the whole ton. He was challenged to a duel. Yet, he still walked away from her. That is proof of strange desires and questionable loyalties, do you not think? I would not want to become a wife in a marriage of convenience, being the charity case. Can you imagine my humiliation, Grandmama?”
“Please think clearly, Cathy!” her grandmother said with urgency.
“It is not just about your pride anymore. Look at your poor sisters! Madeline is the most optimistic of all the young ladies I know. To see her distraught means the end of the world. Her future is now tied with a father who ran away because he chose drink over his daughters and with an older sister who caused a scene at a chapel, no less!”
“Grandmama!” Madeline exclaimed. “You are being as dramatic as Cathy!”
“Portia may need someone to fund her books and further education. On the streets, she would never see a library again. The girl could curl in your library, perhaps, if you married the Duke.”
“I am not a cat,” Portia complained. “I could always carry some of my best books with me.”
Cathy gave her sister a grateful nod, but their grandmother’s tirade was still not over.
“Then, there is our dear Selina, with the face of an angel and a belly that has never grumbled for lack of food. Now, she will be covering that face with soot as she becomes a chimney sweep with chapped hands and lips!”
Cathy raised her eyebrow at that.
“Chapped lips?” Madeline sounded both outraged and curious.
“Because of dehydration,” murmured Portia.
Selina looked appropriately solemn.
“Do you want to see Selina’s beauty sold for a loaf of bread? Beggars cannot be choosers, Cathy!”
“While that solution may have been stuck in your head, the Duke of Baxter does not want to marry me,” Cathy argued.
She did not know why she had to explain the obvious.
Her heart stuttered in her chest. It was like the world was about to crash on her head, and more rocks were being pelted on her.
“The only thing he is interested in is proving he can conquer Miss Priggish. After that, he will tire of me. My reputation is already in tatters. He probably wants to make me his mistress, or worse!”
“Let him find a dozen or so mistresses if it means that you become a duchess. We need bread on the table and security for the rest of your sisters. Once we have found them good husbands, you can lock yourself in your own bedchamber while he comes home with women. I do not want to tell you to sacrifice yourself, but it is the only way we can save this family.”
“Grandmama, he told me himself that he did not want to marry Miss Longrove because he did not want to marry anyone at all!”
Lady Marlow fell silent, as if genuinely contemplating Cathy’s words.
Madeline, Portia, and Selina huddled together.
Their wide, red eyes revealed they were finally grasping what had truly happened.
They were terrified, silently pleading. And one thing Cathy realized then was that the silence was an even greater challenge.
It crushed her to see her family’s fight fading away.
Four women waited silently for an answer.
“You must convince him to marry you. When he comes to visit you once more, you will usher him into the remains of the drawing room. He will offer you marriage. It will not be an arrangement for him, but a choice. Do you know that Miss Longrove was shoved into him?”
“I am being shoved into him as well.”
“No, my darling. You are the only woman with the stature and grace to stand beside the Duke of Baxter, not behind him. Save us. Become the Duchess you were meant to be since you were born.”
Cathy felt cold all over. It was like she was slowly being prepared for burial.
She thought that by following the rules all her life, she would be safe.
Since she was little, she had dreamed of having a man as a partner.
Not a master. And yet, their lives depended on what men did.
Her father was certainly proof of that. He stole not only the coffers, but also her ability to choose her future.
Perhaps she could play this game, but within the marriage bond.
She would have to find a different way to reclaim who she was.
“Fine, I will do it,” she spat out the words. It felt like defeat. It felt like the end of who she was meant to be. “I will marry the Duke of Baxter if he is offering.”
Selina rushed to her, clinging to her with tears, while Madeline gave her a tentative smile. It was Portia who remained frowning at her sister’s decision.
I know, Portia. I know.
After all that, Cathy felt numb. Miss Priggish had become something else that morning. She had become a lamb to the slaughter.