Chapter 6 – Raelyn
Chapter Six
RAELYN
“Sit up straight, Raelyn,” Lady Carlisle admonishes. “Stop daydreaming and focus on eating your meal like a lady.”
Who does she think she is? My mother? I’m twenty-seven years old.
I do my best to hide my annoyance as I roll my shoulders back and nod politely at her. “Thank you for the reminder, Lady Carlisle.”
“Chessa, I love what you’ve done with your hair,” Lady Carlisle compliments.
“It’s the latest fashion,” Chess gushes before she twists and turns her nose up at me. I fight the urge to roll my eyes. It’s not as if she had anything to do with her hair. She has her lady’s maid to thank.
For some reason I do not understand, Lady Carlisle has taken an extreme liking in Chessa ever since arriving a week and a half ago. The attention has Chess brimming with pride, making her even more unpleasant to be around. Father’s choice in a new wife leaves much to be desired.
She has shown plenty of interest in Chess and Erika, but I, on the other hand, have become the focus of her criticism and ire. Charlie is, as always, the most doted on of us all. Apparently, having a dick in his pants is all he needs to inherit the family estate and earn Lady Carlisle’s favor.
“Lady Carlisle, are you excited about the wedding ball tomorrow evening?” Erika asks demurely.
“More than you know,” she replies before pointedly fixing her eyes back on me.
My shoulders roll back as I straighten my posture once again.
“Once I’m officially the lady of the house, I plan to make some changes around here.”
“What kind of changes?” Chessa asks.
“Your father has done an admirable job of raising you all without a mother during some of your most formative years, but it is quite clear to me that some of you need a little more work than others in etiquette and decorum.”
“Some of you” meaning me, obviously.
“It’s not right for a woman to sit around all day and shirk her duty to the family. If you’re to remain here under this roof, you will have to earn your stay.”
I almost spit out my wine at Lady Carlisle’s words. What in the gods’ names is she implying?
Chessa sits up straighter and gives me a wicked smile. “Sounds like she’s talking about you, Raelyn.”
“I beg your finest pardon?” The words fly out of my mouth before I can pull them back.
Lady Carlisle looks down her pointed nose at me. “If you are unwilling to marry, Raelyn, surely you can find a way to make yourself more useful. Needlepoint and reading are hardly valuable uses of your time.”
I hate to think what she’d make of the sword skills. Even more worthless, I’m sure.
My eyes dart from hers to where my father is engrossed in the paper. “Father, you agree with this?”
He waves a hand, brushing me off. “I’m sure whatever Lady Carlisle has in mind is a wonderful plan.”
Has he even been listening? What is she planning? Having me scrub chamber pots? I shudder.
“Erika and Chessa aren’t married yet—do they need to earn their keep as well?” I ask.
Lady Carlisle turns to look at the twins, her finger tapping her chin. “They will spend their time making themselves as attractive as possible to lure potential matches.”
I think I might be sick.
Chessa gloats. “We appreciate all of your attention, Lady Carlisle.”
Lady Carlisle gently pats her shoulder. “Feel free to call me Mother, Chessa. I will be soon enough. And of course I’ll ensure you both make advantageous matches this season.”
I would call her “Mother” over my dead body, not that she offered.
With each condescending glance and every demeaning word out of Lady Carlisle’s mouth, my unadulterated loathing for her grows.
The entire manor is aflutter with preparations for the wedding ball tonight. I try to stifle a yawn as I stand on the small pedestal while the seamstress tugs and pulls at my dress.
“Stand still, Lady Raelyn. I swear to Luna, if you don’t stop fidgeting, I will poke you with my needle,” the seamstress reprimands.
I bite my tongue to keep from snapping at her, but she’s practically family, and I don’t really mind her snark. It just feels like I’ve been standing here for hours, and I’m exhausted.
“Better do as she says,” Erika comments from the corner, where she and Chessa are seated in front of a large mirror, their lady’s maids trying to force their pin-straight hair into curls.
“Father will have your head if you ruin his important night,” Chessa adds.
“I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal,” I retort. “It’s not like he hasn’t been married before. It’s all happening so fast.”
Erika turns her head and gives me a haughty look. “Just because you don’t care about it doesn’t mean it’s not important. Father has been alone since Mother died. Why can’t you let him be happy?”
“Why is he so set on impressing Lady Carlisle? She already agreed to marry him, did she not?”
“Because she’s perfect and deserves the best,” Chessa says dreamily. “I plan to be just like her someday.”
It takes everything within me to bite my tongue.
The seamstress looks at me and lowers her voice to a whisper. “I’ve heard talk that your father would be financially ruined if not for Lady Carlisle. You might want to try harder to get on her good side.”
I hold in a gasp, trying to hide my shock. “Are you certain?” I consider Father’s recent behavior, and it starts making sense. A good number of our servants have been dismissed, and our meals haven’t been quite as lavish. Every time Chess orders a new dress, Father nearly loses it.
“What are you two whispering about?” Erika calls out, her lips twisting into an unattractive pout in the mirror.
“Nothing for you to worry about,” I say as I continue to ponder this new revelation.
What if the lack of funds is precisely why Father hasn’t pressured me to find a match? For all I know, he doesn’t have a dowry available . . . I thought I’d just been lucky that he hadn’t forced me to marry one of the many stuffy lords I’d been introduced to.
“How do you know?” I whisper under my breath.
The seamstress looks up from her position at my feet, armed to the teeth with pins. “Servants talk.”
I shake my head. For Father’s sake, I hope the marriage isn’t one purely of convenience—I want him to be happy—but my first impressions of Lady Carlisle haven’t been the best. Over the last two weeks, she’s moved all her belongings in and commandeered our staff to prepare the most lavish wedding ball our manor has ever hosted.
There is even talk that some of the royal family might attend tonight.
“Turn for me, dear,” the seamstress says.
When I face the floor-length mirror, I can’t stop the grin from forming despite the shocking information I’ve just received. The seamstress has completely outdone herself with my ballgown. The emerald satin shimmers in the glow of the lamps, mixed with fine swirls of gold filigree.
“Incredible,” I breathe. “Are we almost done here?”
“Almost,” the seamstress mumbles around the pins in her mouth. “Okay, done. Now step out and go get your hair done so I can make these final adjustments.”
I wince as one of the pins pokes me. “Ouch. Okay, fine, I got it. You don’t need to keep torturing me,” I joke.
“Lady Erika, get your arse over here,” the seamstress calls out. “Your hair will never curl—you might as well just give up now.”
I hold back a laugh as my sister huffs and gets to her feet, and we switch places.
Sera comes over and gets to work on my hair. Unlike my sisters’, my hair curls like a dream.
“Sometimes I swear Mother must have had an affair,” Chessa complains. “You look nothing like the rest of us.”
Her words hit me where it hurts, like they usually do. One would think I’d be used to the unkind comments about my parentage, but I struggle to feel like I belong as it is. The nasty insinuations are the absolute last thing I need.
I straighten my shoulders and look at Chessa through the mirror. “Don’t be jealous that I got all the good genetics.”
She rolls her eyes, and I look away. I can’t let her see how much her words get to me, or she’ll never stop.
Is there truth to them? Am I proof of Mother’s infidelity? Surely not. Father would have never stood for it . . . and yet the vague memories I have of her are not filled with love and care . . . I felt unwanted.
The sooner the twins are married off and out of the manor, the better. Despite Lady Carlisle’s threats, I have no desire to be married. I want more out of life than becoming some lord’s wife and birthing heirs who could potentially carry my affliction.
While I’ve never told anyone, I long to travel to far-off kingdoms—perhaps someone somewhere has a cure that could set me free from the dark. Marriage to one of Rakveren’s lords would only keep me trapped in an endless cycle of loneliness. If that is my lot, I might as well remain here.
The bonding ceremony for Father and Lady Carlisle was short and private, which is honestly almost shocking to me.
Apparently, her children from a previous marriage are too busy with their families to deign to visit, so it was just us along with the priestess.
Thankfully, we were dismissed after the ceremony for a few hours until we have to change into our ballgowns.
Lady Carlisle had not one but two elaborate gowns made for today.
Personally, I think it the biggest waste, considering the first one was only seen by our small immediate family.
I always thought of our family as wealthy, but Lady Carlisle’s spending habits give new meaning to the word.
The way she flaunts her countless jewels at every opportunity seems frivolous at best. Who needs to wear diamonds dripping down one’s ears at the breakfast table?
Lady Carlisle, apparently . . . though I guess she’s Lady Astoria now.
Chessa and Erika wanted two gowns as well, but Father put a stop to that. We had to make do with less formal dresses we already owned for the bonding ceremony.