9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Melior slipped under her covers and placed her spectacles on her nose. With her current situation, love poems were the last thing she'd wanted to read, so she'd replaced the book of Byron with an educational tome on Egypt. It was one of the four books that were hers alone, Uncle Percy having gifted this one to her when she was fifteen.

Packing had taken less time than she'd expected, so after the last trunk was closed and a tray brought up for her dinner, she'd excused her maid for the evening. Nerves had kept her from eating much, even though Cook had sent up her favorite custard for dessert. Eventually she'd opted to retire early.

Truthfully, it was a delight. Usually her schedule was so full she did not have much time to read, but with one last night of true freedom, she needed to fill her mind with as many beautiful words as it could hold. Who knew what sort of library Havencrest would have? It could be atrociously small or lacking in decent reading material.

Opening her book, she began. Three pages in, her eyes caught on a sketch of the Egyptian deity Thoth, its beak-like nose reminding her of Edith. A stinging sensation pricked at her eyes.

Life was so unfair.

Edith and Agatha had been outside her townhouse today.

She'd seen them through the window while Sir Nathaniel prattled on. They'd glanced nervously between each other and then at the house. She'd hoped they would be brave enough to call, but they had not.

When Lord Caraway had joined them on the sidewalk it was almost more than she could bear. The three people she wanted to see most in the world were standing not far away, and she was stuck in the parlor listening to Sir Nathaniel dictate to her the course of her life.

What had the man meant by coming to visit? It was obvious he had no intention of apologizing for breaking her trust, nor did he intend on including her in any decisions or ascertaining her feelings. He could have sent the information he'd relayed in a letter, or simply waited until tomorrow since apparently they would be stuck in a carriage for hours together.

Then again, she was grateful he'd informed her of her parents' intentions to throw her out without so much as a by your leave. Angry tears trickled down her cheeks. Did no one even consider that she might want to say goodbye to her friends? Did they think so little of her that they would immediately dismiss her the moment she left the church?

All her life, her parents had insisted she was special, that she was far more beautiful than the rest because she was destined for a high position in Society. And yet the moment all that was stolen from her, she was no longer worth their notice. Would they even allow her to visit once she was married?

And what of Sir Nathaniel? He'd said she'd have freedom about his estate, but would he grant her leave to visit her family if they accepted her back? Probably not. Sir Nathaniel may think he hid his disdain for all of them, but his face was as open as the book on her lap.

Melior's eyes widened as she realized her tears had dripped on the page and smeared a few words. Setting her spectacles in the box, she grabbed her bed covers and dried her cheeks. Her mother would be appalled at her use of the sheets, but what did it matter now?

Holding up the book she softly blew on the wet spots, trying to dry them without smearing any more ink. She should be comforted in the knowledge that at least Eddie would be welcome at her new home, and maybe in time he could help bridge the gap between her old life and her new one.

A firm knock sounded on the door, and before she could answer her mother walked in.

"Why are you in bed at this hour? It is only a quarter past seven."

Melior resisted the urge to sigh or slump. "I am tired, Mother. It will be an eventful day tomorrow and I need my rest."

Her mother ran a finger along the dressing table, no doubt to make certain the maid had not been slothful. "It would have been eventful had you made sure the right man was in the cloakroom. Now it is simply a morning to be endured."

Melior clenched her teeth. The wedding would be difficult, but hearing her mother speak of it as if she were the one being most imposed upon was aggravating.

"Well, then, Mother. Perhaps you should get your rest as well so you will have the energy to endure it ."

Her mother's blue eyes flashed. "Do not get short with me. I came here for a purpose and you will sit and listen until I am finished." Her gaze caught on something and she stalked forward.

Snatching the book off the bed, she hurled it into the box. It landed with a crunch. Melior cringed, the tears in her eyes smarting again knowing what the sound meant.

"What have I told you about filling your head with nonsense? No man wants a woman who knows more than he does. Do you want to ruin your chances with all that reading?"

"What does it matter? I am already to be married. There is no one to impress."

"Perhaps you will get lucky and Sir Nathaniel will die. You must keep your options open."

It was not polite to gape, but that was exactly what Melior did. Had she heard her mother correctly?

"Posture, Melior. Even when in bed, a lady never slumps. And close that mouth. You look like a fish. Men die all the time, there is nothing shocking in that. Look at Lady Braithwaite. She's been widowed twice over and she's not much older than you."

Lady Braithwaite was actually a year younger, having come out a year after Melior, but she would never want to be in that poor woman's position. Yes, she had wealth and freedom, but at what cost? She was the Ton's favorite victim for gossip.

Melior had heard everything from secret trysts to suspicion that she'd murdered her two husbands. And while the bold, elegant woman was nothing like the timid girl she'd met years ago, she did not believe most of the rumors. Even so, she still kept her distance. No use tainting herself by association.

Was that the sort of life her mother wished her to have? To be wealthy and titled at the cost of Society's scorn?

"Now, it is time we have a discussion about your duties as a wife. Not that I wish to, but it is my last responsibility as your mother."

Melior scrunched her nose. How could her mother jump from talking about Sir Nathaniel's demise to her obligations as his wife? Her mind spun with the quick about face in conversation.

"You have already taught me all I need to know about managing a household, Mother. I do not see any reason to remind me."

"I am not speaking of household management; I am speaking of your responsibilities on your wedding night."

Her wedding night? Melior had tried to avoid thinking about anything beyond the ceremony itself. The reminder that there would be far more to her marriage than simply existing in the same home set her hands to fidgeting with the ties on her nightdress. While she'd not known everything, she'd heard enough gossip to understand the wedding night involved more than a peck on the lips.

How much though left her cheeks burning bright red by the time her mother left her room. The details of marital intimacy she'd shared were far too much to take in. And to think she'd be required to be so… so… vulnerable. And with Sir Nathaniel, of all people!

Not that the man was not attractive. She'd always thought him quite nice to look at ever since she was ten. But to… to…

She could not think about it. Perhaps he would not be interested in consummating their marriage. That would be a great relief.

Then again, every man needed an heir.

She swallowed hard. Her mother had said it was her duty, however unpleasant, for king and country. Was married life as horrible as she'd made it out to be? A cold sweat broke out upon Melior's brow.

So much for the ample rest she'd hoped to get.

With little chance of sleeping, she reached for the discarded book. Lifting it from the box, she remembered the ominous crunch.

Slowly, she pulled her beloved spectacles out of the velvet lined box. They had cracks in both lenses. Her tears began again in earnest. The glass was still intact, but when she peered through them, lines ran across the pages of her book.

She reverently put the book back in the box, then wrapped her broken spectacles in a handkerchief and placed them on top.

Choking on a sob, she burrowed into her bed letting the flood of tears wet her pillow. Aunt Lucinda had helped her obtain the treasured spectacles, her mother having refused, claiming it would only encourage her in her bluestocking ways. Her Grace had understood Melior's thirst for knowledge, though. But like her spectacles, Aunt Lucinda had been broken. The illness that had left her body bent and hurting crushed her as much as the book had crushed Melior's spectacles. And now she was gone. There would be no one else to help her fix her broken eyesight or her broken heart.

Why was the world so determined to steal everything good from her? She was done. She had nothing left but her pride.

Actually, after tomorrow night, she would not even have that anymore.