Madeline

Chapter 3

I intended to never speak to my father again. Let him yell and scream or punish me however he wanted. He couldn't force me to speak to him. After a few days, though, I realized that if he even noticed, he wouldn't care. He barely saw me and when he did, he expected me to be quiet while he yelled or scolded. Besides, I wanted to take an opportunity sometime to tell him that I had hated him for a long time too. It would be much more satisfying than saying nothing.

I hadn't wanted to care about what he said. Hadn't I already known that he didn't love me? I expected his answer, but for some reason, hearing the words were much more hurtful than simply knowing it to be true. And I still couldn't believe that he blamed me for my mother's death. I never asked to be born. Particularly not to him. I absolutely hated that I had his blood. If I could, I'd separate every drop of his blood from my mother's inside of me.

But I suppose I finally had an explanation for his treatment of me. Even if it didn't make sense, it was a reason.

Or at least, it was sort of a reason. I couldn't help wondering if he even loved my mother. He certainly didn't love any of his other daughters very much, if at all. And he didn't blame them the way he blamed me. Besides, I had a very difficult time believing he was capable of love at all. I had a difficult time believing he even had a heart.

So why so much hostility if he didn't even love the person I'd supposedly murdered? Was it simply because she died without giving him an heir? If I had been a boy, would he even care that she died? Would I have been prized by my father instead of despised if I hadn't been a girl?

Was this all about his embarrassment in Society?

The thought made me sick because I guessed that it was the likely answer. All my father seemed to care about was how he appeared - how rich he was, how enviable to everyone else, and how elevated in our wretched Society. Five daughters and no sons, for someone like him, would have been a considerable embarrassment. Turning to surrogacy was even worse.

Well, I decided that I wasn't going to cater to his demands any longer. I wasn't going to help him achieve whatever plan he had in mind for me. Especially not without knowing what that plan was.

I'd always been a little scared about my future. With my father deciding it, it couldn't be anything but awful. But I always assumed that meant I'd have to marry someone I didn't like - someone like him or worse. Now I wasn't so sure. Joseph's words worried me. Marriage to an unpleasant man was considered a lot of things in Society, but cruel wasn't necessarily one of them. And Joseph said that it was cruel. Based on the part of their conversation I overheard, I gathered that he was doing his best to save me from whatever it was. I couldn't help wonder what would motivate someone who barely knew me to square off against Father like that, when, if he succeeded, it would cost him so much. Not to mention the fact that I hadn't had a Come Out and hadn't been remotely prepared for one.

No, something strange and decidedly not good was going on, and I wanted to know what.

So when Sadie came to tell me it was time for my music lesson, I ignored her. When she told me I had to work on my needlepoint, I ignored her. When she told me to do anything at all, including eat, I ignored her. She would try and force me into whatever it was by threatening or actually putting the items in my lap, but I didn't care. I would brush whatever it was onto the floor and stare at her blankly.

"I won't do anything he wants until he tells me what he's planning," I said stubbornly for the hundredth time this week. It was basically all I would say anymore.

Sadie stood over me with another tray of food that I had no intention of touching. My stomach had stopped growling now, and I was convinced I could keep up my hunger strike forever if need be.

"Please, Madeline," Sadie tried, and I thought it was interesting that she sounded worried now. "If you just-"

Her plea was interrupted when the door to my room was thrown open and a strange woman came in uninvited. She sauntered into the room, looking as if she owned it. Already I didn't like her.

"Lord Rinaldi has requested your presence," the woman said to Sadie, making her visibly pale.

I wondered if Father planned to dismiss her since she couldn't get me to do anything anymore. If she'd ever been kind to me, I might have felt bad about it.

Sadie took a deep breath, nodded, and then placed the tray of food on the table before leaving the room. I wasn't exactly sorry to see her go, but she'd been with me for as long as I could remember. If she was being dismissed, as I suspected, would it have been outrageous for her to think to say good bye?

Being reminded that practically no one in the world even cared about me strengthened my resolve to be difficult and I glared at this new intruder.

The woman came to stand in front of me, discarded her cloak and bag, and stared back at me for a moment.

"You have spunk," she said, assessingly. "That'll help."

I had no idea what she meant but her words irritated me further. Crossing my arms, I turned away from her.

"You can pull that spoiled little brat act all day, or you can listen to me and learn what you need to know."

Even though I guessed that this woman might have a clue about Father's plan, I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of my compliance. I shrugged and stared out the window.

"Fine," she said breezily. "I've dealt with more stubborn ones than you before."

I glanced at her, my curiosity getting the best of me and she smirked. Annoyed, I fixed my gaze out the window again.

"Well, if you aren't going to eat, mind if I do?" She pulled out the chair, sat, and began eating my food without waiting for an answer.

"I'm Penelope, by the way," she said between bites. "Penny, if you like."

I rolled my eyes, wishing she'd eat in silence. I didn't care what her name was.

She laughed and continued eating while mindlessly chatting. When she finished, I got my wish. She sat quietly and watched me for a long time. Somehow that was even more irritating than the chatter.

Huffing, I turned to glare at her, wanting her to get to the point of all this already.

Penelope smirked, apparently expecting my reaction.

"What do you want?" I finally said, making sure it couldn't be mistaken for a polite inquiry.

"I'm here to train you."

"Train me for what?" My eyes narrowed and I tried to ignore the quiver in my stomach.

She watched me for a moment, assessing before she sighed. As annoyingly confident as she had been up until this point, she didn't like whatever she had to tell me now. That nervous feeling in my stomach grew.

"You don't have any idea why I'm here?" she clarified.

I shook my head and she pursed her lips.

"Do you know what a mistress is?"

Judging by the way she asked, I should know, but I'd never heard the word before. Which, considering how I was raised, wasn't surprising.

I shook my head again, my anger giving way to curiosity and unease.

"Well, you are going to be one, so I suppose I'll have to start by explaining what that means."

Warily, I watched her and swallowed thickly. I was glad that I hadn't eaten anything in several days. It was easy to tell by Penelope's forced nonchalance that whatever being a mistress meant wouldn't be pleasant.

Not that I thought my future would be, of course.