Chapter 3
Marianne woke the next morning still feeling cross. She had lied to her mother and claimed to have a headache, using that as an excuse to sit quietly for the rest of the evening.
She’d hoped a good night’s sleep would clear the evening’s unpleasantness from her mind, but she had barely opened her eyes when it all came rushing back to her: the way Beatrice had practically forced Lord Harrow to dance with her.
The man’s detached politeness and the way his eyes had lingered on her freckles. And then Frederick’s unwelcome appearance, which had only made her evening worse.
She propped herself up in bed and frowned in frustration.
I am so sick of stupid games with stupid boys who think being mean is funny.
She suddenly remembered that day years ago when Beatrice had suggested to her that boys were mean to her because they liked her. She realized it had been a long time since anyone had said that to her.
No one says it because it isn’t true. What a silly thing to imagine, that a man might resist dancing with me, or say cruel things to me, because they were secretly in love me. Ridiculous.
She slid back down into her bed and pulled the covers over her, contemplating just staying there all day. She could say she still felt poorly. It wasn’t as though anyone was waiting for her presence.
Then she remembered that wasn’t quite true. She had promised Beatrice that she would call today. She sighed and flung the covers back wide, forcing herself to get out of bed.
When she arrived at the breakfast table, her parents and Thomas were already there.
“All I am saying is that I wish to go abroad for a while. The world is vast, and I want to explore it!” Thomas was saying as she slipped into her chair across from him, not paying his emphatic gesturing much mind.
This was a frequently revisited topic lately.
Thomas believed firmly that his fate lay beyond England’s shores.
“Please, Thomas, you shall give your mother a headache. You know this topic upsets her.”
Marianne shared a quick glance with her brother. Their mother had one of the strongest constitutions she’d ever known, but that did not stop her father from using it as an excuse whenever he was tired of arguing with Thomas.
“Father,” Thomas said, lowering his voice but clearly not ready to give up, “it simply makes no sense to me that we own a shipping business and yet I have never left England.”
Marianne felt a wave of admiration for her brother. He was loud about his dream, and persistent in pursuing it. She had never been so bold with her own dreams of dressmaking—and she had long ago given up on it being anything more than a dream.
“Perhaps if you were to get married, Thomas, and spend a few years establishing a family, then your father might consider finding you a place on one of his ships.”
“Yes, listen to your mother. A very sensible woman.”
“I have already discussed this with both of you,” Thomas began, and Marianne knew what was coming.
Her parents suggested marriage to both of them at least once a week, and while Marianne had begrudgingly accepted it was her fate, Thomas was resistant still.
He felt firmly that now was his time to explore the world, before being tied to a wife or children.
She shot her brother a sympathetic look, and he gave her a small smile back before launching into a well-practiced speech about his hopes for his life. It wasn’t long before her father interrupted, and the two men were soon engaged in a full argument about Thomas’s future.
Marianne ate quietly, accustomed to the tension and to the fact that her future was not even allowed such a debate. She was the carrier of her parents’ hope to achieve legitimate nobility, after all.
“Please, let us stop all this unpleasant conversation at the breakfast table,” her mother finally cut in. “It’s hardly seemly.”
She suddenly fixed her attention on Marianne.
“Marianne danced with Lord Harrow last night,” she announced proudly to her husband.
“Ah yes? That is promising,” her father replied, also shifting his attention to Marianne.
“Did he seem pleased with you, Marianne?” her mother asked. Marianne shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
No, he did not. He clearly was pushed into it by Beatrice, and could not get away from me fast enough.
However, Marianne could never give her parents an answer like that. She decided misdirection was the best course of action.
“He spoke to me quite a bit. He was telling me about his land.”
Her mother clapped her hands.
“That is wonderful, Marianne. Surely it’s a sign that he wishes you to know more about himself and his family. You must be sure to dance with him again at the next ball.”
Her mother paused, thinking. “Though I believe he spends a great deal of time in the country, so perhaps he will not be in attendance. Ah, I know! You must ask Miss Langley to invite him to her wedding.”
Marianne struggled to keep her face neutral. Of course her parents were thinking of ways to throw her at the first lord who had ever paid attention to her.
“Excellent idea, Mrs. Kettering,” her father added. “Be sure to do that, Marianne.”
Marianne took a deep breath and let it out slowly before she responded. Years of experience had taught her that pushing back against their grand plan was pointless, and much more frustrating for her than it was for them.
“I shall certainly ask her, though of course I am sure they have a great deal of people to accommodate on the guest list.”
Her mother frowned.
“But you have been such a good friend to her. Surely she would be willing to add one extra person in order to ensure your happiness.”
In order to ensure your happiness, rather, Marianne thought bitterly. It grated on her that her parents had always treated her friendship with Beatrice as one more way of getting what they wanted.