AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You are right on one thing, my daughter. Love can, in many ways, be like a poem. It is short and always quick to end. You shall not romanticize love because it is only best served in family. Even then, expecting it is much like expecting money to rain from the sky.”
Matilda wanted to say something, anything, but what could she? Her mother would not just begin to understand in a sudden change of heart. She thought what she wanted to think and believed what she wanted to believe. But where was she going with her diatribe? Where were the reddened face and clenched jaw taking them both because it all most certainly had a direction?
Matilda had the idea that she would stop things before they escalated any further. She now knew for sure that when it came to love, romance, marriage, her mother was simply not the one to speak to about it. She might have been the very last person to speak to about it. When it came to her father, he might have been a little bit softer, she thought, a little bit more understanding of things. But even so, that was a stretch of a thought.
“I would very much prefer it if I could go to my room now. I understand what you are saying, and I will no longer broach these subjects. My apologies for doing so.” Matilda could feel her heart sink and her face muscles loosen even more. What other defeats would she have to tolerate? What other blows to her belief system would she have to endure? She wanted to cry over the fact that she simply had no choice, not in what she believed and not in her future. It was beyond unfair. She should have run away that night. She should have taken one of the horses and fled Hardon altogether.
“It is far too late to take back your words on the matter.” Her mother said. “Since you love your books so much, you should know just how much weight a word can have in the world. Sometimes countries are broken by something a leader says.”
It was at the point where Matilda thought that her mother had been taking things too far. She had turned into someone who looked like they were out to prove a point rather than have any type of civil conversation.
“You are free to go to your room. I must summon one of your maids.”
That did not make Matilda comfortable in leaving any longer. Something was about to happen, something drastic, and she needed to stay and watch. After her mother came back from calling the maid, Matilda asked, “What are you doing?”
Catherine took her seat behind the desk once more and let out a sigh. “I do not know where I have gone wrong with you, Matilda. Frankly, it wounds me to think about. Your father and I have gone to great lengths in providing you with a comfortable life.”
“And I thank you for that, but comfort is not the only important thing in life. What about—”
“Tell that to the hungry. Tell that to the ones who leave their decrepit homes with holes in their fabrics. You do not know the first thing about love, life, hardship, or happiness. You have been spoon-fed fantastical notions by writers who most likely could not have functioned normally in society, to begin with. That is why they became writers because they are poor at understanding the world around them. Therefore, they make up their silly little stories…their own worlds. And I will not allow my daughter to be fooled by their deceitful narratives.”
“Can I at least get a word in? Can I at least speak my peace and try to explain myself at all?”
“You are always free to speak.”
“I am no fool to the idea that the world is cold and takes a certain amount of grit and understanding to navigate. I know that life decides everyone’s individual story. And I don’t expect to fight dragons or go on adventures like a princess. But do I not get a say in who I marry? When I do not love someone, do I not have a choice in the matter?”
“Your choices are too immature to be choices. You are too young to understand anything needed to make an informed choice. You don’t know what is right for you. You think you do, but you do not.”
Just then, the maid entered the room in haste. Catherine looked at the maid and said, “Get rid of Matilda’s books; all the poems, the stories, all of it.”
