“Yes,” she said in a determined tone. “There is no more point in staying married. You already have my dowry, which is why you’ married me in the first place. My dowry has resolved all of your financial issues, so there is absolutely no more reason why we should keep pretending when it is obviously causing us both more distress than it should.” She met his gaze, her eyes filled with pain and searching for understanding.
His brows furrowed, as he took a moment to process her words. “Phyllis, I… I don’t understand. Why now? We’ve managed so far, and I do believe that things are improving. Why the sudden change?”
Phyllis drew a steadying breath, obviously summoning the courage to reveal the turmoil within her. “Alexander, we are living a lie. I thought I could do it, but I can’t. I can’t bear the weight of it any longer. I thought it was what you wanted as well.”
He paced towards her, a hint of frustration tainting his features. “What I want is for you to stay. We can… change the arrangement to suit whatever you think you need. The estate is flourishing and we—”
“No,” she shook her head, her emotions erupting like a long-contained storm. “I will not become like my mother, bound to a loveless marriage, a mere pawn in the game of societal norms and expectations. Nor will I suffer the fate of my sister, trapped in a life devoid of love and joy. I refuse to become a casualty of duty!”
The weight of her words hung heavily in the soft breeze around them, echoing off of the walls that surrounded them. Alexander felt a tightening in his chest, the gravity of her proclamation settling over him like a dense fog.
Loveless. The term reverberated in his mind, forcing him to confront the reality of their arrangement.
“I cannot live a life void of affection and connection, Alexander,” she admitted, her voice a poignant mix of determination and sorrow. “I did my duty. I saved your family from ruin. Now please… allow me to save the little grace I have left and let me leave…”
She turned away, the rustle of her departing gown echoing the finality of her decision. He watched her climb into the carriage, as he stood rooted to the spot, grappling with the realization that he had let go of something he hadn’t fully understood until now. As the door to the carriage closed behind her, he felt an ache deep within, a pang of regret that whispered of missed opportunities and a love unexplored.
As the carriage carrying Phyllis disappeared into the distance, Alexander stood alone in the grand foyer of Woldaves estate, his anguish and anger bared for the world to see. He could not allow that.
Regret gnawed at him as he walked through the silent rooms, each one a witness to the unraveling of a union that had never truly been. The manor, once a bastion of his family’s history, now felt like a hallowed chamber of missed chances and unspoken desires.
In the dim light of the setting sun, Alexander found himself in the study where he had often contemplated matters of legacy and duty. Now, it was a space haunted by the specter of a love that had slipped through his fingers. He sank into a chair, ruminating on the folly of his own emotions.
“I was a fool,” he murmured to the empty room, the weight of his realization heavy on his shoulders. “Foolish to believe that this arrangement could ever work.”
He knew that fortunes could be safeguarded with locks and keys, but the heart… the heart was a realm where caution often faltered. He had meticulously protected his financial legacy, yet the fortress he built around his emotions proved more porous than he had dared to acknowledge.
No!His own mind shouted in an effort to remind him that all of this washerfault. He had agreed to all of her terms. He had agreed to a pretend courtship, then when she changed her mind and wanted a real marriage, he agreed with that as well. And it was still not good enough!
He buried his face into his hands, breathing heavily, as if a large rock rested on his chest.
“There are more ways to be hurt than theft or betrayal,” he murmured, as he poured himself a drink, the realization settling like a bitter aftertaste. “I never wanted this marriage anyway. It was she who convinced me. And just as I lived without her before, I shall live before her now…”
He downed the drink thirstily, feeling the clawing of the liquid down his throat. He poured some more, acknowledging silently that he would probably be spending the night there.
* * *
Phyllis gazed out of the carriage window, the passing scenery a blur of green fields and quaint villages, a stark contrast to the chaotic emotions swirling within her. The rhythmic clatter of hooves on cobbled streets accompanied her as the carriage navigated the bustling lanes of London.
The journey felt like an eternity, each turn of the wheel drawing her farther from the Woldaves estate and the enigmatic duke. The unease in her heart mingled with the rhythmic jostling of the carriage, and she found solace in the rhythmic clopping of hooves against cobblestones.
As the carriage traversed the city’s labyrinthine streets, Phyllis observed the ebb and flow of London life. Merchants haggled in open markets, carriages rumbled by with their passengers shielded by drawn curtains, and the tantalizing scent of street vendors’ wares wafted through the air. London, with its chaotic vibrancy, seemed a world away from the tranquil estate she had left behind.
With each passing mile, her thoughts oscillated between the heartache of leaving and the determination that fueled her resolve. She clutched her reticule, a tangible connection to her past life, and her gaze occasionally lingered on the fleeting glimpses of grand estates and modest homes alike.
Finally, the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Joyce’s residence. Phyllis stepped out into the still unfamiliar surroundings of her sister’s new home, hoping that the comforting embrace of family would be awaiting her. As she ascended the steps to the front door, the click of her shoes on the stone echoed the inner turmoil she carried.
She knocked cautiously on the door, and a moment later, the butler, a figure of stoic elegance, opened the ornate door to reveal the splendor of Joyce’s new residence.
“I’m sorry to disturb, but… I’m here to see my sister, Joyce,” Phyllis explained a little awkwardly, but the butler immediately nodded, much to her relief.
“Please follow me, madam,” he said gently, as Phyllis stepped inside with a demeanor that belied her inner unrest.
The grandeur of the drawing room enveloped her as the butler, in a hushed and respectful tone, informed her that he would go to announce her arrival to the lady of the house, her sister, leaving her alone.
The room exuded an air of refined taste, adorned with opulent furnishings and delicate trinkets that bore witness to a life of comfort. Phyllis stood amidst the well-appointed surroundings, but inside, she felt as bare as the desert itself, devoid of life, devoid of joy. Hopefully, her sister would understand her, offer a guiding hand in this time of darkness.
A sense of patience cloaked Phyllis as she awaited her sister’s appearance. The ticking of an antique clock on the mantel seemed to synchronize with the rhythm of her thoughts, marking the passage of moments that bridged the gap between past and present. She had no idea where she would go from there or how she would survive this unexpected heartache.
