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“What will this marriage be?”
Her own question haunted her, echoing in her mind with her every footstep.
“What will this marriage be?”
She was no stranger to the types of marriages that featured in the ton. Floating on the outskirts of the ballroom at every ball the past three seasons certainly enlightened her to the fact that not every marriage was a happy one. She also could have looked to her own home, to the marriage her parents shared. There was no warmth, no love, no kindness to be found between them. No, marriage was not always a fairytale.
“What will this marriage be?”
Her thoughts continued to ruminate on this as she emotionlessly made her way back to her bedroom.
Would their marriage be like what she once expected with Lord Debling? Some distanced affection, with Colin jotting off to other parts of the world for months, if not years at a time? Her, left alone at home, left isolated, left questioning and despairing at what he was doing so far away from her at that very moment. Was he finding comfort in other women as he did on previous travels? Kissing their lips, touching their breasts, his fingers sliding up their thighs until he reaches their…
Or worse. Could he be finding the love he no longer found in her in someone else? Upon his return, would she have to wonder if this will be the time he announces that he no longer has needs of her, nor wants her? That he demands an annulment so he can be with another woman?
“What will this marriage be?”
She crossed the threshold of her room, her hand gliding slowly over the top of her writing desk as she passed by.
Would their marriage be more like Mr. Davidson’s and his wife’s? Would he be openly cruel to her, mocking her to his friends, the same friends that had belittled her earlier this season? Would he continue that cruelty at home in private, using his words to cut her open? Limiting her comings and goings, reducing her freedom and independence until she was trapped as his prisoner.
No, she thought, her Colin wouldn’t do that.
But then again, her Colin wouldn’t have said those words to the other gentleman in the garden at her mama’s ball last year. Her Colin wouldn’t have accused her of entrapping him by being intimate when she herself was unaware of the act they were doing, relying only on his guidance and her instincts in that moment.
She will have to reconcile the fact that her Colin and the Colin she was met with today were not one in the same.
“What will this marriage be?”
She stepped forward, pausing at the corner of the rug as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Frozen, as her thoughts continued to plague her.
Would their marriage be like that of her parents? Sleeping in separate bedchambers. Each time they are next to each other, seeming so far apart. Two people, two separate entities, two strangers cohabiting together. Her mother begging for a morsel of her father’s attention. Her father slipping further into his vices, stumbling home drunk after gambling away their family’s money. Smelling like cheap perfume, rouge smudged on the collar of his shirt.
“What will this marriage be?”
She reached down, pulling the corner of the rug up and picking up the loose floorboards underneath.
Would he once again bear the armor he wore earlier this year? Would he play the role of the doting husband in public and drop all pretenses once they return home? Was she to live a fantasy when out in the ton, only to conceal the cold that permeated their home? To put on a fake smile while dancing with him at a ball, to see his own charming smile paired with his lifeless eyes as he fetches her lemonade. To feel his touch on her hand, on her back, at her waist, but to know that is all she will ever get.
She shakes her head, trying to rid herself of this scenario. For wouldn’t it be worse to have him that close, receive his fake affection, than to not have him at all?
“What will this marriage be?”
Her hand hovered over the uncovered items. She picked up a neatly tied bundle of papers. Her hand traced the letters on the top.
Or was there hope that they could move past this? Could he accept her apologies and her love? Would she be able to put down her quill and focus on her home, her life with Colin? Would she find fulfillment and a voice in her new role as wife and potentially as a mother?
Or was it all too late? Too irrevocably broken to repair and move forward? Would she be forever cursed to love a man who could no longer love her and to bear witness to that lost love every day? To be so close to him, yet so far.
She dropped the letters back into their hiding place. She reached for the bank notes and coins on the left, placing them in her reticule.
“What will this marriage be?”
She swiftly re-covered the spot, leaving everything else hidden in its original place.
No. She would not wait for him to decide what this marriage will be. She would not entrap him. If his sense of duty and honor did not give him leave to call off the wedding, she would be benevolent and do it for him. For his sake… as well as for her own.
She made her way back through the house, sneaking down the servants’ stairs and out the servants’ entrance as she had done many times before. Pulling the hood of her dark blue cloak over her head, she met up with the hired hack waiting just slightly down the street.
She settled into her seat and reached to close the carriage door herself. Her eyes took one last glimpse at a house on the other side of Grovesnor Square. Her hand lingered on the door. A small tear trailing down her cheek before she closed the door shut with a feeling of finality.
For Penelope Featherington may be a wallflower, but she cannot tolerate being a fool any longer.