Chapter 11

With her footsteps muffled by the large, elaborate rug covering the floor, Marianne traversed the length of the library. Normally a place of comfort and reflection, the room seemed small, its walls stacked with books that appeared to make fun of her situation. Her mind was a whirlwind of opposing feelings, one idea crashing into the next like a wild dance.

It surprised her to realize how deeply she had felt for Andrew—not just that the feelings were there but how intense they were. Recognizing her developing affection for the man she was pretending to be engaged to was one thing, but facing the harsh reality that her feelings went well beyond what their agreement allowed was quite another.

Their arrangement became less clear the more time they spent together and the more they looked at each other and touched each other. This was not how it was supposed to be. She was not meant to fall in love with him. This was just a transaction, a short-term, win-win agreement, nothing more. Yet, the more she tried to contain her feelings, the more they threatened to overwhelm her.

Marianne ceased her restless pacing and stood by the window, her eyes unfocused on the lush estate grounds alive with the colors of spring. The beauty outside failed to register with her; her mind was preoccupied.

She had a feeling that Andrew didn't share her growing affection, and the realization weighed heavily on her. This arrangement, initially just a charade, was becoming a burden to him. Her heart ached with the desire to release him from their agreement, so he might find genuine happiness, yet she feared the repercussions from her family and the possibility of losing him completely. This conflict left her feeling trapped between her desires and her obligations, struggling to find a path that could possibly lead to happiness for both of them.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn't notice Andrew entering the room until he was nearly beside her. His reflection in the windowpane, a ghostly image superimposed over the vibrant greens and blossoms outside, startled her.

"Marianne," Andrew began, his voice gentle, cautious, "may I join you?"

She turned to face him, managing a small, strained smile. "Of course, Andrew."

He took a spot beside her, respecting the distance she subtly maintained. His presence was both a comfort and a torment, a reminder of everything she wanted but feared she could never truly have.

"I've been thinking about everything that's happened, about us," Andrew said, staring out into the garden. "I am aware that this arrangement is only meant to be a front. However, I can't help but sense that there is something more, something genuine between us. Marianne, am I wrong to assume that?"

Her heart clenched at his words and the sincerity in his voice. How could she express her inner struggle without revealing too much, without going beyond what they had agreed upon?

Averting her gaze, she murmured, "Andrew, this arrangement has become a bit… complex. It all started out of nowhere."

His voice was low and deep as he said, "You are right about that. I should have thought before saying anything, but you also agreed to this arrangement because of your grandmother."

With endless conceivable responses, Marianne felt conflicted by the terms of their pact and her increasing love for him.

She spoke passionately, "I… I don't know, Andrew. I'm afraid to hold out hope for something greater than this exchange. And in the event that all falls apart? What will then remain for us?"

Andrew moved forward warily, his expression confused yet perceptive. "Marianne, I can relate to your concerns. However, I also think that occasionally, taking a chance might lead us to something worthwhile.

* * *

As Marianne and Andrew returned to the main hall, each engrossed in their own emotional turmoil, the tension between them was still evident. The estate's hallways looked more silent than normal, or their mutual obsession made everything around them subdued.

They were met with an unexpected spectacle as soon as they stepped into the hall. Excitement was evident in the air as Marianne's parents, sister, and grandmother were assembled. Every possible place was adorned with extravagant arrangements of flowers, and banners were being strung up. The vast room was filled with the scents of roses and lilies as well as the sounds of conversation and laughter.

"What's all this?" Marianne asked, her voice echoing slightly in the vast hall.

Her mother turned around, a wide, beaming smile spreading across her face. "Darling, we have wonderful news!" she exclaimed, rushing over to her with her arms wide open. After a brief, affectionate embrace, she stood back, her hands clasping Marianne's. "We've decided it's time for a proper celebration. So, we are hoping to have your wedding ceremony arranged for you and Andrew to be married this weekend!"

Marianne's reaction was immediate. Her jaw dropped, her eyes wide with a mix of confusion and dread as she quickly glanced at Andrew. His face, mirroring her shock, turned pale.

"This weekend? Mother, that's in three days!" she managed to respond, her voice a mix of disbelief and panic.

"Yes, isn't it exciting?" Peggy added, seemingly oblivious to the tension and bouncing slightly on her toes. "Everything's arranged. The caterers, the florists, even the vicar. It'll be the wedding of the Season!"

The room felt like it was spinning around Marianne, her mind racing. They just had a conversation about keeping up their charade a little longer, caring for Tabitha, fearing her family's reaction.

Now, thrust into an impending wedding, she felt trapped, her earlier request to Andrew making this announcement feel like a sentence rather than a celebration.

Andrew, sensing Marianne's distress and feeling a surge of his own conflicted emotions—guilt for the deception and an unexpected ache at seeing her so cornered—stepped in. His voice was steady, but anyone who knew him could hear the underlying strain. "We need to talk about this, Marianne and I. It's very sudden, and there are things we need to discuss privately."

Lady Hillsfolk's face fell slightly, the excitement dimming as she realized the joy she anticipated sharing was not reflected in her daughter or Andrew's reactions. "Oh, of course, you must have so much to plan and talk about," she said, trying to mask her disappointment. "We'll give you some space to chat."

As the family exited, leaving Marianne and Andrew alone, the air seemed charged with a heavy mix of emotions.

Marianne turned to him, her eyes filled with a plea for understanding. "Andrew, I… I don't know what to say. This isn't what I wanted—not so soon. I'm so sorry if this makes things difficult for you."

Andrew took a deep breath, his inner turmoil swirling. He had to confront not just the immediate shock but also the growing realization of his genuine feelings for Marianne.

"Marianne, we'll find a way through this. Let's just take it one step at a time, all right?"

His voice was gentle, trying to soothe both her and his own rising panic at the unexpected acceleration of their pretense into reality.

As they walked out of the room, Andrew, regaining his composure, stepped forward. "Lady Hillsfolk, we hadn't planned to marry so soon. We haven't discussed?—"

"Nonsense," Benedict interrupted with a hearty laugh. "What's there to discuss? You two are perfect for each other. And with everything that's been happening, your grandmother thought—well, we all thought—it would be best to move things along."

Marianne felt a wave of nausea mingled with a surge of anger. "Move things along?" she repeated, her voice rising in pitch. "This is our life, our decision. You can't just decide for us!"

Tabitha, who had been watching the exchange with a keen eye, intervened. "Marianne, dear, we thought it would be a joyous occasion to lift everyone's spirits. We wanted to surprise you, to give you something beautiful amid all the turmoil."

Andrew took Marianne's hand, seeking to provide a steadying presence. He could feel her trembling. "While we appreciate the sentiment," he said carefully, "Marianne is right. We should have been consulted. Marriage is not something to be rushed into lightly, even under… conventional circumstances."

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Lady Hillsfolk's face fell, her excitement dimming as she absorbed the couple's reaction. "I—we didn't realize you would feel this way. We just wanted to help."

Marianne, taking a deep breath, softened her tone. "We know you mean well, but this isn't just a party you're planning. It's our wedding, our future. It has to be right for us."

Peggy, the ever-watchful sister, noticed the distress her sister was trying to mask. "Let's all just take a step back," she suggested. "Maybe there's a way to compromise."

Andrew, taking the lead, spoke with a calm assertiveness, "I understand the desire to see us married, and we are grateful for your support. However, Marianne and I need to feel ready for such a commitment. We value the natural progression of our relationship, and we fear that hurrying might make us skip important steps we wish to take together."

Marianne nodded in agreement, her voice steady but warm. "It's not just about a ceremony or a date. It's about us being certain in our decision, about understanding and respecting each other deeply before we make such a significant commitment. We need more time to grow as a couple."

Lady Hillsfolk, her earlier enthusiasm tempered by their words, leaned forward, her tone conciliatory. "I see your point, dear. It was perhaps hasty of us to assume that accelerating the wedding would be beneficial for everyone. We just wanted to make sure you both had the support of your family during these uncertain times."

Benedict, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, added, "Well, perhaps there's a middle ground here. What if we keep the plans flexible? We can continue preparations but not set a final date until you both feel ready. Would that be an acceptable compromise?"

Marianne exchanged a glance with Andrew, sensing the sincerity in her father's suggestion. "That might work," she replied, a tentative smile forming on her lips. "It would give us the space we need without undoing all the preparations you've all made with so much love and effort."

Andrew squeezed Marianne's hand gently and then addressed the room. "We appreciate the flexibility. It's important for us to move forward at our own pace, but knowing we have your support in doing so makes all the difference."

Peggy, ever the peacemaker, chimed in with a hopeful tone, "And maybe this way, every step towards the wedding will feel joyful, not just for Andrew and Marianne but for all of us."

"Perhaps we rushed into this," Tabitha finally conceded, her voice laden with reluctant understanding. "Let's put the wedding on hold. Marianne, Andrew, you should decide when you're ready."

Lady Hillsfolk, though visibly upset about the dismantling of her plans, nodded in agreement. "Yes, you're right. It should be your decision. We just got carried away with the excitement."

Andrew squeezed Marianne's hand under the table, grateful for her strength and the support of her family despite the initial misstep. "Thank you, everyone, for understanding," he said. "We promise to keep you all involved as we go forward."

The meeting ended with a general air of reconciliation, though the excitement that had initially filled the hall had dimmed. Marianne felt a mix of relief and lingering frustration as she and Andrew excused themselves to walk in the gardens.

Once alone, the cool evening air helped to dissipate some of the residual tension.

Marianne sighed, leaning against the garden's stone balustrade. "That was intense," she murmured, looking out over the manicured lawns bathed in twilight.

Andrew stood beside her, watching the shadows grow longer across the grass.

"Yes, but we handled it together," he replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "That's what matters."

Marianne leaned into his embrace, feeling the truth of his words. "Seems we make a pretty good team."

"Yes, we do," Andrew agreed, smiling down at her.

* * *

The morning light spilled into the dining room, casting long, golden stripes across the oak table where the family gathered for breakfast. The atmosphere was tense, a stark contrast to the calm serenity outside the large bay windows.

Lady Hillsfolk, presided at the head of the table, serving tea with a slightly strained smile. Marianne sat opposite Andrew, her hands folded neatly on her lap, her expression pensive. The events of the previous day had left a residual tension that hung palpably in the air.

As the clinking of cutlery and the pouring of tea filled the brief silence, Lady Hillsfolk set down her cup with deliberate care. "Marianne, darling," she began, her voice carrying a forced cheerfulness. "Have you given any further thought to the discussion we had last night about your wedding?"

Andrew glanced at Marianne and offered her a subtle sign of encouragement. She inhaled deeply, preparing herself for what she knew would be a challenging talk.

"Mother, I thought I was clear last night. Andrew and I need more time. It's too early to set a date, especially for this weekend. We're just not ready."

Lady Hillsfolk's brow furrowed slightly as her lips turned down into a frown. "But, darling, we've considered your concerns. And even though we are aware of them, we have also given the benefits some thought. It's about protecting your future and strengthening family ties, not just about having fun."

Marianne and Andrew sat across from each other, a silent tension hanging between them after their fraught discussion the previous night. The rest of the family sat around the table, finishing their meal in uncomfortable silence.

Andrew's voice broke the tension, calm yet tinged with frustration. "I appreciate your intentions, Lady Hillsfolk, but we are the ones getting married. While we value your advice and support, ultimately, we need to make the decisions that are right for us. And frankly, we're not ready to tie the knot this weekend."

Lady Hillsfolk exchanged a glance with the others, clearly taken aback. Slowly, they all finished their meal, before rising from the table one by one and leaving Marianne and Andrew alone in the dining room.

Marianne looked at Andrew, a mix of relief and lingering tension in her eyes. "I'm glad you said something," she said quietly. "We need to do this our way."

Andrew reached across the table, taking her hand in his. "We'll figure it out. On our terms."

Marianne sat there, motionless, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.

He continued, "I don't understand how they can force their decision on us. This isn't just a party, this is our marriage. It ought to center around us and our commitment to one another."

"We'll talk to them again and explain why this isn't right," Marianne suggested.

Andrew didn't respond. Alone with their food, they were both thinking hard about the impending battle. The morning had lost its warmth, and the brightness suddenly looked too harsh and blinding against the cold reality of their situation.

Later that morning, they found Lady Hillsfolk overseeing the preparations in the garden. Marianne approached Andrew, who stood a step behind her, his presence a silent pillar of support.

"Mother, we need to talk," Marianne said, her voice growing louder and more determined now that her frustration had flared up.

Lady Hillsfolk's glare softened a little as she saw her daughter in agony. "Marianne, I know you're upset, but?—"

Marianne cut her off, not allowing her feelings to be dismissed again. "No, Mother," she said. "This is beyond simple anger. This is about my freedom to choose when and how to be married, along with Andrew's. We are not to be forced into marriage because you think it will be better."

Lady Hillsfolk's resolve wavered behind their united front as she looked from Andrew to Marianne. "I just wanted to give you a perfect day," she remarked, letting go of her reserved demeanor.

"If a perfect day is forced on us, it's not perfect, Lady Hillsfolk," Andrew stated with a gentle yet forceful tone.

"We will get married, but this is not the time. Making decisions together as a married couple is more important than caving under pressure."

Lady Hillsfolk paused and looked deeply into Marianne's eyes, a mix of maternal instinct and the rigidity she felt she had to uphold on her face. She finally sighed, a sigh burdened by tradition and familial duty.

With remorse in her voice, she said, "I understand your feelings, but I can't just go back and change these plans by myself. This was not a hastily made choice, and other family members were consulted. Everyone agreed on it."

Marianne felt a knot tighten in her stomach, her optimism wavering and diminishing. She begged, her voice firm despite the emotional whirlwind inside of her, "Mother, it's our lives. How can you expect us to celebrate a day that's been forced on us?"

"I really believed that what we were doing for you was for the best, but maybe you ought to talk to your grandmother. She participated in this choice. Maybe we can change our minds if you can persuade her."

Andrew, who had stood guard silently during the conversation, gave a nod of approval. "We'll talk to her," he stated. "I'm grateful, Lady Hillsfork. We are grateful for the chance to talk about this in more detail."

Lady Hillsfolk nodded, her face still a mask of conflicting feelings. "She is in her workspace. Marianne, you are aware that she has always regarded you as her favorite granddaughter. While I am powerless, maybe you can convince her."