“I think not.”
“If you don’t marry him, then you will spend your days as a spinster,” her father said. “You will never experience the joy of running your own household and having children.”
“Father,” she started, “I understand that, but how can marrying such a despicable man make me happy? How can I make myself any clearer on the matter?”
Her father rose from his chair and walked over to the drink cart. He picked up the decanter and poured himself a drink. “I won’t always be around to take care of you, and I worry about your future,” he said.
“I will be fine,” Henrietta assured him, hoping there was some truth to her words.
He reached for his glass and took a sip. “I know you are one who balks at tradition—”
“That isn’t true,” she interjected.
With a knowing look, he responded, “It has been that way since you were a little girl. Do not think me so blind that I didn’t know about your antics with your governess.”
Henrietta remained silent as she watched her father sip his drink.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” her father remarked. “We have ensured you received a proper education so you would be prepared for Society.”
She huffed. “You mean the marriage mart.”
“You can call it whatever you want, but you have failed in that regard,” her father said. “Your only recourse is to marry Mr. Drew.”
“I disagree.”
Her father walked back over to his chair and sat down. “Do you truly want to live out your days as a spinster, banished to the countryside?”
“It is better than the alternative.”
“Come now, you cannot be serious.”
She sat down on the chair that faced the desk. “I am.”
“When I pass, I can leave you a small inheritance, but I can’t guarantee my successor will care for you as he should,” her father said. “What kind of life would that be?”
“I could become a companion.”
Her father visibly stiffened. “No daughter of mine will work for an income.”
“I may have no choice.”
Placing his glass onto the desk, he exclaimed, “You do have a blasted choice!”
Her mother’s voice came from the doorway. “Language, dear,” she chided gently.
“Will you come in and try to talk some sense into our exasperating daughter?” her father asked.
Walking further into the room, her mother responded, “I’m afraid I was eavesdropping on the conversation, and I can’t help but feel some sympathy for Henrietta’s plight.”
“As do I,” her father said, “but this is her future we are talking about.”
“Agreed, which is why she should be the one who gets to choose it,” her mother countered.
Her father gave his wife an exasperated look. “This is not what we discussed.”
“I know, but Mr. Drew is a terrible choice for her.”
“He is her only choice,” her father declared, his voice rising. “We both know that.”
