CHAPTERONE
“Ah, good, you’re both here,” Norman St. Clair, the Earl of Cregstone, announced, waving a letter in his hand importantly. His two daughters were present and accounted for, but his eldest had a long time ago stopped being a member of this household due to her marriage. “I have very important news to share with you.”
The St. Clair’s drawing room exuded an air of refined elegance, with its plush furnishings and intricately designed décor. But no one was paying attention to that now. Phyllis and her younger sister Joyce watched their father who, usually composed and measured in his movements, now bore a discernible air of importance. His steps were deliberate, each one echoing with a sense of purpose as he crossed the room. The letter, clasped in his hand, appeared almost sacred, as though it held secrets or revelations that demanded attention.
“What is it, Father?” Joyce was the first one to inquire, although Phyllis could sense that the letter had nothing to do with her.
“I hold in my hands a letter from none other than the Duke of Woldaves himself,” he explained in a tone that transcended the usual composure of the St. Clair household. He paused, his eyes locking with Phyllis’. “In it, he is expressing his desire to marry you, my dear.”
“Me?” Phyllis exclaimed, her eyes, usually bright and lively, now reflected a mixture of surprise and reluctance.
“Indeed,” her father nodded. It was obviously something he had been anticipating and he welcomed the news. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of Phyllis.
The prospect of marriage was not something she had considered, despite it being the most logical next step for every young lady. In her mind, the idea of marriage seemed to unravel the threads of her dreams that had yet to be woven.
Phyllis, taking a moment to collect her thoughts, mustered the courage to voice her reservations. “Father, I… you know my opinion on marriage. It is not something I see for myself. I have my own aspirations and dreams that do not align with such an arrangement. I beg you to consider my feelings in this matter.”
Her father frowned. He was a man not used to being contradicted, especially by his own daughters. Phyllis’ heart clenched as a flicker of memory ignited inside of her.
“Phyllis, my dear,” he spoke with as little affection in themy dearas he was forced to show, “I do not think I need to remind you that the duke is quite a respectable match. Such unions are advantageous for our family. Think of the benefits, the security.”
Phyllis could feel her palms getting clammy. She quickly wiped them against her gown. “But, Father, what about my happiness? Shouldn’t that be a consideration as well?”
Her father’s brow furrowed even more. “Phyllis, this is an opportunity many would envy. You must think beyond your own wishes and consider the future of your own family. The duke’s proposal is an honor we cannot simply dismiss.”
“You know how I feel about marriage, Father,” Phyllis said with a stern gaze that seemed to mirror her father’s.
She knew well that this was a dangerous path she had started to tread. But it was the only path she could go down and explain to her father the real reason behind her reluctance to marry anyone, duke or anything else.
“Phyllis…” Joyce silently called out her sister’s name, gripping her by the elbow, as the two ladies sat side by side on a chaise lounge.
“Father, I don’t want to embark on a path that leads to disappointment and heartache. I yearn for a life where I can pursue my own dreams without the shadow of a failed union looming over me.”
Her father had always been the kind to keep his emotions to himself. After all, that was just one of the reasons why her mother had left him… and her children as well. Phyllis didn’t need to say any of this out loud for her father to be able to read her mind.
The room, once filled with echoes of argument, now hushed at her words. Her gaze held a depth of understanding born from witnessing the complexities and sorrows woven into the fabric of her family’s history. The failed marriages that had left indelible marks on those she loved became the cautionary tales that fueled her reluctance. She would rather be alone her entire life, than spend the rest of it picking up the pieces of her broken heart.
“Marriage is not what you women read in your romance novels, you know,” her father’s voice had now taken on a more serious note. “Falling in love is impractical. It serves no purpose.”
Phyllis would beg to differ, just like her sister, but she knew better than to contradict her father at a moment like this. So, she bit her tongue and prevented herself from saying anything that might make an already unpleasant situation even worse.
“The real purpose of marriage is convenience,” he continued. “Two people come together for the benefit of not only each other, but their families as well. This is something I assumed was known in my household, but I see now that I was mistaken.”
Phyllis exchanged a meaningful glance with her sister, but both of them knew that this conversation was over. Their father did not seem conflicted at all when he concluded this argument.
“Phyllis, my decision regarding this marriage is final. We must prioritize the family’s standing, and the duke’s proposal secures not only your future, but ours as well. I expect you to fulfill your duty with the same grace that generations of women before you have.”
Upon those words, their father left the drawing room, the heavy door closing behind him with a sober finality. Phyllis and Joyce, left in the wake of their father’s decision, stood in a silence that mirrored the unresolved tension that still lingered in the air.
Phyllis, her eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and sorrow, broke the quietude by standing up and pacing about the room like a caged animal. She gritted her teeth angrily, feeling helpless regarding the most important decision of her very life. She never thought her father would actually go through with this, forcing her to do something she had already said she didn’t want to.
“This is utterly unfair,” she spat angrily, her brows knitting. “I feel like I have no say in my own future.”
Joyce, her younger sister, reached out and gently placed a hand on Phyllis's shoulder, a silent gesture of solidarity. The room, once a sanctuary of familial warmth, now held the weight of an impending future that seemed to drift further away from both sisters’ dreams.
“I know how that feels,” Joyce suddenly sighed as if the weight of the world rested upon her shoulders.
Phyllis turned to her sister. She caught a glimpse of sadness in the eyes she had known all too well.
