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Chapter Two
“Oh! Do be careful, Marcella!”
Marcella shook her head, brown ringlets bouncing about her face. She turned her head and peered with bright, hazel eyes at Adeline Rowler, who was both Marcella’s dearest friend and the most persistent worrier whom Marcella had ever met. Indeed, Marcella stood halfway to the top of the ladder, which was several feet from the floor and not necessarily safe, but it was also a necessary evil if one wished to reach the highest volumes on the library shelves.
“I’ve been climbing this same ladder since I was a girl, and I’ve never once fallen. There’s no need for you to worry so.”
“But I shall worry,” Adeline replied, smiling wryly. “If I learned anything from attending finishing school with you, it’s that you are entirely lacking any sense of caution. So I’m to be that for you.”
Marcella feigned an exasperated sigh and continued searching among the volumes. “There must be something,” she insisted.
“I thought you wanted to find some idea for a book,” Adeline pointed out. “Shouldn’t you be at a desk, bent over your paper and ink like some devoted clerk?”
“No,” Marcella replied. “Because I’m looking for inspiration. All artists draw their inspiration from other works of art, so I don’t see why I ought not.”
Adeline hummed and held onto the lower rungs of the ladder, keeping it steady. Marcella continued tracing her fingers along the spines of the books. There were a great variety, most of which Marcella had already read, but she was looking for a particular kind of book, one which she was not even sure existed. The story lingered somewhere at the edge of her mind. Perhaps it was a memory or merely a feeling. It was, thus far, too indistinct for her to properly describe.
“I just feel like there ought to be more to literature,” Marcella explained, “especially as far as women are concerned. It’s always the same story. A man and a woman meet, fall madly in love, and live happily ever after.”
“Surely, you do not begrudge women for having happy marriages, do you?” Adeline asked.
“Of course not,” Marcella replied.
Especially not since you want a happy marriage so desperately for yourself.
Adeline would likely get one, too. She was, firstly, a beautiful young woman with blonde curls, wide blue eyes, and a sweet, and angelic face. Many men had already fallen to the charms of Adeline’s beauty, but she was also the daughter to a Baron with a very substantial fortune and who was well-liked amongst theton. Besides that, Adeline was sweet-natured and had a good, cheerful sense of humor. Any man would be lucky to be married to so charming a creature.
“Good.”
The voice which cut through the air wasn’t Adeline’s. Rather, it was Claudia, the Viscountess of Castamere and Marcella’s own stepmother. She was a tall, slender woman and remarkably beautiful. Claudia was so beautiful, in fact, that her warm auburn hair and emerald eyes had enchanted Marcella’s father almost the moment they met. That was despite Claudia’s own humble upbringing; she’d been a merchant’s daughter, rather than an aristocrat like the rest of theton.
“After all, you’re to be married soon,” Claudia said. “I won’t have a spinster in the family, and nor will your father.”
“ButmustI marry?” Marcella asked. “Certainly, marriage suits some women—like you, my dear stepmother. And I daresay it would suit Adeline, but are there not some women who are not in the least improved by matrimony? And if I can make a fortune of my own—”
“With your scribblings?” Claudia asked. “Why, you can hardly depend on that. You must be reasonable, especially since…”
The door to the library opened, and Marcella’s father entered. He made a stately figure, cold and still. As a girl, Marcella had thought at times that her father was more like the ghost of a father, like in Shakespeare’sHamlet. Adam, the Viscount of Castamere was pale, and his hair was as black as a starless night. His eyes were blue and only ever shined when he was in the company of his childhood friend Rufus, the Duke of Mavis. But besides those few fleeting moments of joy, Marcella had never seen any warmth or affection in her father’s eyes.
“Ah, your father will want to tell you,” Claudia said, smiling brilliantly. “It’s really wonderful news.”
Marcella felt a pit form in her stomach. Her stepmother had entered speaking of marriage, and now, her father had arrived with some important news. Marcella had always been a clever girl, and she could figure out the truth of the situation quite readily. She only hoped that her instincts were wrong. Surely,surely, her father and stepmother could not conceivably think of marrying her to someone against her will?
There was one engagement, but it was so long ago. And broken. They could not have possibly arranged another so quickly without my knowledge. There would’ve been whispers of it amongst the ton and the servants. I would’ve known.
“You recall the Duke of Mavis’ son?” her father asked.
Of course, she did. But that knowledge didn’t make her feel any better. No, the Duke of Mavis’ son had been her original betrothed. This only made Marcella’s theory—that both her father and stepmother sought to marry her to someone with all haste—more plausible.
“Of course,” she replied. “His disappearance was…unforgettable. It’s been how many years now? Ten?”
Marcella knew that it had been. She’d been promised to the future Duke of Mavis almost since birth, and she’d only been freed of that obligation when she was ten. The young future Duke had vanished without a trace, leaving his father distraught. For many years, Marcella’s father had insisted that there was no need for her to form another engagement. He’d hoped, just as his dearest friend had, that her betrothed would eventually return.
“Indeed,” her father answered. “But it appears that he has returned at last! I’ve just received a letter from His Grace!”
“Isn’t that wonderful?” Claudia asked, smiling pleasantly. “After all this time!”
Marcella blinked in surprise. It was wonderful. Of course, it was. She’d never wished any ill on the young lord. She remembered that he’d been mischievous in his adolescence but little beyond that. Marcella had been too young then to really understand all the machinations of love, and she’d, therefore, always approached Lord Reginald only with a sort of fond curiosity. But this conversation was turning very quickly in the direction she’d feared it would.
