An Unacceptable Arrangement (4 page)

Cassandra’s composure eluded her and she
threw herself on her mother’s bed and started sobbing
anew. “Why, why?  Why am I being punished like
this? What have I done?” she cried. Her mother sat beside her
and patted her shoulder awkwardly. They were not a family
given to lavish displays of affection. The maids looked on
sadly. They did not like to see the young lady of the house looking
so miserable, especially on the eve of her wedding.

“Now, now dear, you haven’t even met this
man. I assure you, he is not so bad.”

This pronouncement was so startling that
Cassandra stopped crying and looked up at her mother in
astonishment. “You have met him? How well do you know
him?” 

“You’ve seen him, darling. He has been here
at the house. Both at the tea I gave a year ago and the hunt your
father held last summer?”

Cassandra remembered the tea and the hunt but
there had been so many people and she hadn’t taken part. She was
not out in society at that time, so it wouldn’t have been proper.
She had spent most of the hunt looking out of her bedroom window at
the gentlemen below on their mounts. She had no idea at the time
that her future husband was among them.

“What does he look like? How old is he?” she
asked, shuddering as she envisioned a pot-bellied, balding old man
with mutton chop side burns leering at her as she walked down the
aisle towards him.

“Never mind, dear. You’ll see him soon
enough. What we have to concern ourselves with is how
you
will look. Get up now and try this dress on. Isn’t it
lovely?”  Her mother urged.

Cassandra tried to sit on the edge of the bed
but it hurt too much. She stood and looked at the dress. It
had faded and yellowed in spots. The lace at the neckline
looked like it would crumble into pieces if touched. 

“It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen!” she
cried, burying her face in her hands and moaning as the maids
removed her dress.  She gasped as one of the girls began
tightening her corset. The ugly dress that smelled strongly of
cedar was lowered over her head and fell down around her. It
was several inches too wide and about a foot too short. She
blinked at her image in the looking glass. Perfect, Cassandra
thought, I am being wed in a decrepit old dress that once belonged
to a short, stout ancestor. She miserably turned and faced her
mother who was exclaiming over how lovely she looked, until her
voice died away.

Lady Eveline Newblythe looked at her
exquisite daughter. With her ginger curls and big blue eyes,
she looked like a porcelain doll, but that dress was a
nightmare. There was nothing to be done about it, though. Her
husband hadn’t given her much notice. The entire staff had spent
the morning searching the estate looking for a suitable dress and
this had been found in a trunk in the attic. Ever since the Queen
Victoria had been married in a white dress, it was the only color
that would do and this was the only remotely suitable one
available. Cassandra’s presentation gown had been white but it
wasn’t at all the right style for a wedding.

“Don’t despair dear, Madeline will work
wonders.” Mother and daughter both turned to look at the
seamstress who didn’t look at all confident that she could work any
kind of magic with that dress.

Madeline pinned Cassandra into the dress as
Cassandra stood still trying valiantly not to cry on the satin
bodice. What did it matter what she looked like, anyway? She and
this man were complete strangers to one another and it was an
arranged marriage. What did it matter what impression she made? She
stared glumly at her reflection.

Just then her brother Hayden barreled into
the room. Hayden never walked, he ricocheted. He stopped
short, seeing her in a wedding gown. “What is this?” he asked.
“Cassie, why are you wearing that dress?” Cassandra glared at him,
he knew she hated that nickname.

Her mother came to the rescue. “Get out of
here Hayden, your sister is changing. She is getting married
tomorrow. Go try on your frock coat. Madeline will be in shortly to
see if it needs altering.”

Hayden looked shocked but headed for the
door, shooting her a departing look as he went. “You look
beautiful, sister!” he called as the door shut on him. Cassandra’s
mouth dropped open. That was very unlike him; he had actually
sounded sincere. He usually teased her mercilessly about her
ugliness. He had done so her entire life. Even though he was four
years older than she, the thought occurred that perhaps Hayden was
finally growing up. Oh well, she shrugged – she wouldn’t be around
to enjoy it.

Her eyes widened as she realized that this
horrible state of affairs must have to do with Hayden and his
marriage to a cousin of the Queen - her brother who had been the
bane of her parent’s existence, expelled from every decent boarding
school in the country. His nuptials were just months away. She, the
good obedient daughter, was being pushed aside while her naughty,
out-of-control brother was being given the lavish wedding she’d
been promised. He would marry into the royal family and be the
future Duke of Hampton. Who knows - his title might even be
upgraded by the Queen to Prince. That could be the only reason -
her parents wanted their other child of marriageable age gone so
they could focus on Hayden, the heir and their new pride and joy,
and his magnificent wedding.

She realized that she had no more tears;
she’d gone numb with grief. Her mother was chatting on about
the wedding guests. Her younger brother Reginald would be unable to
attend. He was away at school but her little sisters would both be
in the ceremony. Mother was instructing Madeline to make sure that
the dresses they’d worn in her cousin’s wedding still fit the
girls. Finally Madeline excused Cassandra and the maids helped her
redress. She walked slowly to her room and collapsed upon the bed.
She groaned as she lifted her skirts and lowered her drawers. She
lay with her head on her pillow and waggled her bare bottom in the
air. Any fabric at all against her extremely sore bottom was too
much to bear.

Her room. She looked around, taking it all
in. It suddenly looked elegant, but also childish to her eyes. This
was the last night she would ever spend here. Her parents probably
could not wait to turn it in to something else. She wondered how
long it would be before she was whisked off to her husband’s
country. She had heard Germany was beautiful and very clean. She
shook her head and forced herself to stop thinking about her
marriage. Even though she had acquiesced, it had been under extreme
duress. She had no intention of going gracefully into this union.
She would go all right, the thought of staying behind and having to
ever again lay eyes on her wretched parents was abhorrent to her,
but she would not be gracious about it. Her father had to learn
that people were not chess pieces to be moved about at will. He
would learn that there are emotional repercussions to the decisions
that one makes, especially when it involves someone else’s
future.

She stiffly rose and wandered to her window
seat and gingerly perched upon it. It was overcast and raining, and
she rested her flushed face against the cold windowpane and looked
out into the storm. It looked like a bad storm, the kind that
brought rain for days. Cassandra envisioned herself soggily
squishing down the aisle in muddy slippers and a crumbling
hundred-year-old gown. What did it matter? What did anything matter
anymore? She wished she could press her overheated bottom cheeks
against the windowpane to cool them and stop the stinging. She
couldn’t help smiling - her rooms faced the courtyard - as she
imagined the picture that would present to anyone arriving at the
manse.

She wondered about her fiancé. What kind of
man would agree to marry a girl he didn’t know at a hurried last
minute wedding? He could not be a very high-ranking member of the
aristocracy if he was content with being wed in such a humble
fashion. But her father had said he was a baron. Where
did a baron rank in the order of German nobility?

Was he handsome? Was he kind? Whether he was
kind or cruel, she would soon be his and there was nothing to be
done about it but accept her lot and endure. Divorce was not an
option and if she ran off she would not be welcomed back to her
parent’s house. By tomorrow night she would no longer be a virgin
and she would be ruined, of interest to no one except perhaps the
man who had deflowered her.

She wondered how this arrangement her father
had brokered had all come about. Perhaps they had met at her
father’s club? Perhaps he and her father had gotten to talking
about his need for a young, fertile bride and her father had
offered her as a kindness to a stranger he barely knew without a
thought for his own daughter’s feelings. Perhaps father had
even lost her in a card game! Had money exchanged hands? Had
he sold her to excuse some debt or talked the groom into marrying
her just to be rid of her? Who knew about the affairs of men? She
knew enough about how the world of men worked to know that anything
was possible. She also knew that she might never be apprised of the
reason for the wedding. Neither her father nor her new husband was
obligated to tell her. Most important matters were considered too
complex to share with the more delicate sex.

Cassandra wiped away her tears and lay back
on her bed, grimacing as she lowered her skirts over her swollen
cheeks. She soon fell asleep, waking only when a maid appeared with
a dinner tray. She had slept through tea! And she was not being
invited down to dinner. She’d probably be locked into her room this
evening so that she could not escape her upcoming nuptials, as if
there was any escape. She smiled at the maid and excused her, then
lifted the lid of the tray. It was her favorite – Wilshire beef. It
smelled good and she tried to eat but she just wasn’t hungry.

She rose and went to the full-length drawing
glass. She raised her skirts and lowered her drawers, then turned
and looked at her bottom in the mirror. It was red and pink striped
and quite puffy looking. She bent forward, spreading her cheeks,
looking over her shoulder trying to see the damage. The nasty twigs
had fallen everywhere – everywhere! The tender skin near her bottom
hole, her little cunny. She swore her father had actually aimed for
that spot more than once - not a single inch had been missed and
the entire area stung horribly. The brine the twigs had soaked in
had been driven into her welts by the rod and now it continued to
burn. How on earth would she explain this to her future husband?
He’d soon know she’d been punished by her father like a naughty
child on the eve of her wedding. Would he guess the reason?

Suddenly a thought occurred – would her
husband employ domestic discipline? She had heard stories.
Nanette’s sister Paulette had gotten married two years previously
and had told Nanette that her husband spanked her frequently. Not
only that but he even birched her on occasion, Nanette had seen the
marks! Cassandra supposed Sir Frederic probably would; the Germans
were known to be a fierce people.

Cassandra sighed and rose. She needed to
pack, knowing that anything she did not take with her she’d never
see again. She loaded her trunk carefully, taking a selection of
dresses - some fancy and some more practical. She packed her
toiletries and under things. She also added sleepwear, holding up
her flannel nightgowns and sighing. There was no trousseau for her.
She’d have to wear a flannel nightie to bed on her wedding night.
Oh well, at least she’d be warm.

Cassandra opened her jewelry box and looked
inside. There were several nice pieces; her father had given her a
piece of jewelry for each important event in her life. She had
taken it for granted that this was how girls were treated. She
thought about leaving it all behind; she wanted nothing from that
man, but then her sensible nature intervened. Who knew what her new
circumstances would be? If money were tight, this jewelry could be
all she ever received. And if pocket money were not easily
forthcoming, she might need to sell it for cash value. She packed
the jewelry case and then finished by putting in her shoes and
wraps and then lay back down to rest.

Cassandra must have fallen back asleep. She
awoke with a renewed sense of hope as the sun shone through the
windows. It was her wedding day - such a beautiful day, anything
was possible! She flushed as she realized she’d fallen asleep in
her clothing. She rose and donned her house slippers and then
opened the door to her room. Perhaps she could speak to her father
before the wedding, have one last chance to talk some sense into
him. The wedding was being planned in secret. If she broke the
engagement there should be no scandal.

As Cassandra opened her door to slip out, two
smiling ladies maids approached and excitedly grabbed her. The
silly things were prattling on about how this was her wedding day
and wasn’t it wonderful and she had to hurry and get ready. They
had to leave for the chapel in two hours.

Two hours? Her father had said the wedding
was being held at noon. What time was it? Servants entered her room
bearing pails of water as the maids moved her tub in front of the
lit fireplace. They filled the tub with warm steaming water and
left. As she saw the steam rise from the water, she found herself
looking forward to a good soak. She was quickly undressed and heard
both of the maids exclaim and then remembered her battered bottom.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. Apparently it was quite a
sight to see.

She gingerly lowered herself into the bath
water and sighed happily as it swirled around her. She relaxed in
the warmth. Soon her hair had been washed and she finished soaping
herself. She rinsed and rose and was wrapped in fluffy towels. The
maids were excitedly combing her hair and wrapping the curls around
their fingers as it dried until it fell in soft ringlets. Madeline
swooped into the room with her dress and hung it on her armoire.
Cassandra glumly looked at it; the crumbling lace had been
replaced. Madeline had managed to remove the yellowing and add a
few layers of ruffles to lengthen the gown. No, those weren’t
additional layers – they were petticoats with ruffled bottoms that
hung below the hem of the gown, giving the appearance of
lengthening the gown. Very clever. At least the dress would now
fit.