Chapter 1 #2
My eyes slip shut as I exhale, but when I open them, Ivy is staring, not rudely, but she watches me with concern. Once my airways loosen, I give her a nod. Not because I’m ready for what awaits me on the other side, but because we’ve stalled long enough.
She knocks twice on the glossy oak and seconds later the double doors swing wide, revealing strangers who know exactly who I am.
Inside, there are five men in total, and immediately I pick out features that stand out in each of them.
Terrible toupee, mole under left eye, snow beard, receding hairline, and monocle.
All are decrepit and look rather annoyed with how slowly I stroll into the center of the room.
But can they blame me for taking my time?
They want to sell me off to a man whom I’ve only met this morning and have no desire to marry.
They act as if I’m some kind of livestock they can barter with and then have the nerve to be bothered by my leisurely pace.
Every movement is like making my way through a labyrinth of thorns. My body pricks with pain the closer I get to my judges.
Each of the men sit behind what looks like a pulpit. Beyond them are windows that take up most of the wall and allow in yellow rays that cast light on marble sculptures. All of it seems too sanctified for the men who occupy the space.
“It’s about time,” the man straight in front of me mutters. He pushes the golden rims of his glasses higher on his nose, before smoothing the snowy white of his mustache and following the hair down to his beard. “I don’t like waiting, Miss Tyddle.”
A pitter-patter of feet rushes across the floor, and I catch Ivy scrambling to a desk where she picks up a quill pen and begins scribbling on her paper.
“Neither do I.” I feel a slight discomfort settle in my chest. It’s too early to tell if I need more medication or if the pressure is fear.
All the men gasp as if never having heard a woman speak.
“What did you just say?” This time the question comes from another man, one who has deep, rich brown skin, similar to my own, and is completely bald.
My eyes drift to Ivy who is still writing away but releases a smile of approval.
I clear my throat and stare at the men. “He said he doesn’t like to wait, and I said, nor do I.
I have been sitting out in the lobby for nearly an hour, waiting for all of you.
I’m late for work, which means I’ll have to stay well into the night to make up the moinlings from missed hours.
Now I am here, still waiting for the meeting to start.
” Adrenaline pumps through me as I hold my stance.
“Well, Miss Tyddle, let’s not make you wait any longer.
” The man in the center, the one I’m certain is the leader, speaks again, “You have been brought to the Council of Foxhead because you are ordered to marry Morren Beetlerum.” Ariah Beetlerum?
The thought stays in my head where it belongs because the name is just an awful one.
“He and his father own a considerable size of land west of our village, and they have amiably offered to part with some of it to expand the Queen’s Road.
” Of course, they have. “In a week’s time, the village will provide a small but pleasant ceremony, and from there you shall live in, and be a part of, the Beetlerum Estate.
You will no longer need your little job and you will be more than compensated in your new life. ”
The foolery that has just been uttered makes my blood boil and I’m not even sure which issue to address first. My little job.
Dressmaking may not mean anything to him, or anyone else, but it is mine and something I have worked damn hard for.
And even if I agree to this futile practice, why would I have to give that up?
“Think and then speak. Anger fuels nothing but stupidity.” My father offered this advice before I left our house this morning.
Unlike my mother, he always takes a gentler approach to things.
While Mother’s fire is often needed, and I rarely hesitate in harnessing it, I think about my response and try to gain as much clarity as I can.
“No,” is the only word that gets sifted out from the many that want to be shared.
The response makes the leader’s pasty skin flash with a red warning, and the others start whispering amongst themselves; I can only imagine the pleasantries being passed around.
“Miss Tyddle, I don’t think you quite understand how this works,” he says as calmly as his rage allows.
“This practice is not an official kingdom rule. If you want me to marry the person of your choosing, I need to see documentation from Queen Cayleen herself. If you do not have any, I would like to go to work now. Some of us have to make our own money.”
“You ungrateful girl,” someone shouts.
“No one has ever questioned us before,” bellows another.
The leader holds up a hand. “Very well, Miss Tyddle. Though I am displeased with your decision, we shall choose someone more worthy of Mr. Beetlerum.” He leans forward, placing his hands on his stand.
“However, we will match you with another, and next time I assure you, you will be married, even if the Queen of Haymel has to come here herself.” The sound of doors opening comes from behind me. “Now, get out. You’ve wasted our time.”
Terrible toupee, mole under left eye, snow beard, receding hairline, and monocle—I memorize the men who have threatened me once more and gladly take my leave.
Ivy puts down her pen, no longer needing to take her notes. I toss her a quick smile and though she doesn’t return it in front of the men, her thoughts shout at me with approval.
I take in the grand hall on my way out and wish I had visited under different circumstances. While I would love to be in the beauty of the building again, if it means I have to see any of those men, it’s not a chance I’m willing to take.
Opening the door to the lobby I inhale the freshest air I’ve ever known. That is, until Morren gets up from his seat and blocks my exit.
“They did a pretty good job selecting a wife for me,” he says. Morren isn’t the worst-looking guy in the world, but he’s far from my type, plus I have no desire to be married, at least not now. “I had my doubts when my father told me, but you’ll do nicely.”
Just when I thought my breakfast was starting to settle back down, it starts creeping up. “About that…they decided to go with someone else.”
His head cocks back. “What? They said I would be meeting my wife today. I’m not really in the mood to wait for another.”
“Sorry.” I give him a shrug and maneuver around him.
Extending an arm, he keeps me from leaving yet again, and the motion boils my insides. “Why don’t we go tell them they don’t have to find anyone else? You and I can be married by morning.”
I grimace. “Absolutely not.”
With a final push, I move his arm out of the way and leave. Not once looking back.