Vampyre Bride ✔️

I⎮Exsanguination

London, 1814

The dust motes drifted languidly amidst the sunbeams that filtered through the sheer drapes at the bay window. The household was, by and large, still abed as Emma contemplated her reflection in the privacy of the dusty garret. The patinated looking-glass was as little used as the small room she liked to retreat to when she was of a mind to read or write her letters.

"Why, Emmaline, I daresay you have the most delightful teeth of any lady in London!" she mocked the mirror, chuckling to herself as she endeavored to find aught of her plain features that might inspire the admiration of even a single dignified gentleman.

She turned her head to inspect the brown ringlets at her face, the rest of her hair pulled up into a braided chignon, and frowned as she fingered the sleeve of her morning gown. The skirt was of a pale, green muslin and the bodice, that completely covered her bosom, was only slightly darker. It was not a particularly fine-looking dress and boasted no pretty patterns or flounces; it was merely an unremarkable, and plainly designed, little morning dress that perfectly suited its owner's lineaments.

Arching a single brow, she considered the sharp angles of her face, the cyan hue of her irises, and the light bespattering of freckles that clung to the ridge of her pert nose. She supposed it was a good nose, and the color of her eyes were rather striking, if she was being kind — which, at present, she was disposed to being. Would that her hair was not so dull a brown, nor her complexion quite so wan, but she had not the golden brilliance of her sister's graceful curls and neither did she possess Millicent's creamy skin.

But it was not an unfortunate-looking face by any means, however, no one was inclined to look past the spectacles, or her ungainly height; and this was especially apparent when Millicent was beside her. But she did not begrudge her sister the attention that was her due, for she loved her. Milli was, after all, rather a sweet little creature when she wasn't inveigling and suborning Emma into whatever mischief struck her fancy.

"This is pointless!" she muttered angrily.

She was not normally given to immaterial introspections or such conceited meditation, but since coming to London, she had been completely immersed in the city's love of fashion and beauty; utterly exposed to the superficial attitudes and arbitrary snobbery of the ton. How she missed her country home and the simple life she had been unwilling to leave.

Emma's father had always teased them that she was the academic and Millicent the thespian; that Emma was destined for school rooms and her sister for ballrooms. Emma frowned at the thought, rather disliking the direction the world seemed to think she should follow. It was true, she loved to immerse herself in Chaucer, Shakespeare, and Milton, but that was not all she enjoyed! By thunder, she was a woman first and a scholar second.

Emma narrowed her eyes at the girl staring back, as if daring her to argue the fact. The eyes in the looking-glass only echoed her gesture. She nodded with satisfaction as she stood, gathering up her pens, quills and diary.

"What would Father think if he heard you talking to yourself, Emma!" she scoffed. Perhaps he might change his mind and consider you an actor too; or a clown come to that!

Judging by the advancement of the sunlight through the casement, it would soon be time for breakfast and her uncle was not one to suffer tardiness, for he had lost none of the punctiliousness and discipline instilled in him during his tenure in the British Army. Poor Millicent, Emma grinned. Her sister was an avid lay-a-bed, but that habit had garnered much disapprobation and she had been, almost as soon as they arrived, hastily cured of that practice.

When she entered the breakfast room, she was greeted by the footman standing at the door. Her aunt and uncle Haywood had by this time already been seated at the table, he with the London Gazette under his nose and she chewing delicately on a buttered roll, perusing the Lady's Magazine.