Madeline

Chapter 2

Viola never came to my room that night. I know she intended to and that it had been Father who kept her from it, but it still hurt when I realized she wasn't coming. Not very long after that ball, Viola was engaged and, as Sadie predicted, she was married and gone by the time I turned sixteen.

I'd known it would happen. Father seemed to care about me the least, but he didn't have any great love for any of his daughters. His primary goal seemed to be to marry us off so he could be free of us. Still, when Viola left, I was more lonely than ever. Irrational as it was, I was angry with her too. It wasn't her fault. She hadn't chosen to leave and she didn't really want to, but still, the only person in the world who actually cared about me had left me all alone. I knew it would be rare that I got to see her anymore either. I didn't know much about the man who was now her husband, and obviously I didn't know anything about the man who would be mine, but any visits we would be allowed would be decided by the two of them. And so far, it didn't seem as though Viola's husband was too accommodating. She'd been married for almost a year now, and I hadn't seen her even once.

After a while, I'd taken to wandering the house at night. I waited until most everyone was asleep, so I didn't have to be as careful, but I wasn't very worried about being caught. Father scared me less than he used to. I knew he'd still yell and punish me, but I also knew that he wouldn't hit me any longer. It wasn't out of love, of course. Now he hesitated to do anything that might leave a mark on me. I'd come to realize that the only thing my father really valued about me was my beauty. I had inherited my mother's considerable beauty, or so I'd been told, and I guess my father saw that as a way to gain more for himself when he finally decided it was time for me to marry. And so he had to keep his valuable possession in pristine condition.

Once I figured that out, I started wondering why it was taking so long for me to have a Come Out. I was nearly seventeen now, and there still weren't any plans for a ball that I was aware of. I worked up the nerve to ask my father about it once, but he'd only scolded me and told me that I'd know what he thought I needed to know when he thought I needed to know it. Frustrating as it had been, it really wasn't surprising. And anyway, I figured it would have to be soon. I sincerely doubted that Father planned to keep me here forever, and in Society, an unmarried eighteen-year-old girl of the upper class was practically considered an old maid. My father wouldn't want to be embarrassed in that way.

Not unlike other nights, I sat in the cozy little alcove in the hall, looking up at the stars and thinking everything over. How much longer would my life go on like this? How would I ever even know how to behave when I finally did have a Come Out? I'd had lessons in nearly every blessedly boring feminine thing imaginable for years now. But never anything that might give me a clue about a Come Out or suitors or anything like that. If Father was so concerned about me embarrassing him with my love of drawing, why wasn't he concerned about my ignorance about those important things?

As I sat there quietly, I heard voices coming from the sitting room down the hall. I listened harder and heard Father's voice along with another male voice I didn't recognize. It wasn't exceptionally late, but I hadn't realized there were any visitors here.

Quickly and silently, I stood and crept down the hall to listen. As I approached the sitting room, I heard snatches of what they were saying. Not much that made sense, but I knew their conversation was about me because I heard my name.

"Be reasonable, Stuart," the man was saying to my father as I peeked through the doorway, making sure to keep mostly out of sight. "You can't-"

"You're going to tell me what I can and cannot do with my own daughter?" Father sounded amused. "Because I gave you one, you think you have the right to two."

"That's not what I'm saying, at all," he said, sounding tired.

This was Viola's husband, Joseph, I realized. He was arguing with Father about me? I barely even knew him. We only briefly met once before he and Viola were married.

"I'm willing to accommodate you. I told you that. You'd lose nothing."

Father scoffed. "What you are able to afford, my boy, is a pittance compared to what I'll gain if things go as planned."

"It's cruel," Joseph said. "Does she even know what you're planning?"

Nervous, I unconsciously leaned closer. What was Father planning for me?

"Why would she need to know?" Father demanded. "It's not up to her. That girl has exactly one advantage and I plan to use it. Besides, it'll be good for her. If things go well, she'll be set for life."

"You mean you'll be set for life." Joseph sounded angry.

Father shrugged carelessly. "She will too."

"You don't know that. I told you, I'm willing to-"

Father laughed derisively. "You may have money and a title, but you're far from being the wealthiest man in this kingdom, or the most influential."

Joseph frowned and stared at Father for a moment before his eyes settled on me. I'd been so focused on whatever they were talking about, I hadn't realized that I'd drifted to the middle of the open doorway, and was now plain as day.

He looked back to Father. "Tell her," he challenged, nodding at me.

My eyes widened as Father turned and focused on me.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" he demanded, not seeming bothered that I'd overheard him.

"I..." My voice didn't seem to want to work so I cleared my throat and tried again. "I heard voices."

"All the way from your room?" he asked doubtfully.

I stared at him and didn't answer.

"Go to bed," he ordered.

"What are you talking about?" I tried.

"Never mind what we're talking about. Go!"

I looked at Joseph, pleading with my eyes for him to tell me.

"May I speak with her for a minute?" he tried.

Father laughed. "I don't think so."

Joseph pressed his lips in a hard line.

"Fine," he said in a clipped tone. "I'll be on my way then, since it seems as if there's no use trying to reason with you."

Father just raised an eyebrow and stared at him.

Joseph walked toward me and stopped for a moment. "She misses you," he said causing tears to fill my eyes. My mouth fell open and I wanted to tell him that I missed her too - that I loved her, but the lump in my throat wouldn't let me make a sound.

He bowed quickly and then swept from the room. I watched him go, sad that I couldn't follow. When he disappeared around the corner, I turned back to my father. He was pouring some type of alcohol into a short glass. He capped the bottle and raised the glass to his lips, watching me again.

He already made it clear that he wasn't going to tell me whatever it was, so I didn't ask. Instead, I asked something I'd always wondered but had never had the nerve to bring up.

"Did you ever love me?" My voice was quiet, but I knew he heard.

He took another slow drink and when he lowered the glass, the answer was all over his face. A few tears streamed down my cheeks and I bit my lip, but I waited to hear the words anyway. So I'd know for sure.

"How could I love a murderer?"

I knew he didn't love me, but that took me by surprise. He blamed me for my mother's death? That must be why he seemed to care about me the least. Did he actually hate me? I felt numb. I wanted to run from the room, but I couldn't seem to make my legs work and I couldn't look away from the antipathy in his eyes.

He finished his drink and walked toward the door.

"Go to bed," he said again, not even pausing as he breezed by.