Miss Wendy Garren has resigned herself to one last tormented season in the Capital's condemning rich and titled high-society, under the critical and abusive eye of her parents, The Earl and Countess of Follies. At seven and twenty she knows she is t...
Before Wendy felt as though she could truly take a breath or even a moment to think, it was the night before her wedding day. She had never thought this day would come, she was beyond certain that it wouldn't and yet here it was. She glanced at the jeweled tiara, set up in her room for tomorrow, that seemed to have an enchanting glow even in the dimly lit room. The jewels had been sent to the house by the Duke, they were his mothers, the late duchess' jewels and when Sarah had giddily set it into her hair Wendy felt as though she might suffocate from the metaphorical weight.
Duchess Amelia Granger had been rumored to be the very star of her society in the Capital, she had been swept off of her feet by her long time friend and confidant Duke Leonard Granger and they spun right into a fairy-tale life until great tragedy struck, an unexpected and devastating carriage accident robbed the Duke and his younger sister of their parents at a very young age. Wendy had learned all that she could of them and their family in the short month that she had, had to prepare for the wedding and she was sure now more than ever that the Duke was making a horrid mistake by linking himself to her through marriage.
No matter how she tried to convince herself that this was nothing but ill-willed fate, guilt ate at Wendy. She knew him to be kind and thoughtful now, he had raised his younger sister, refusing to send her away even though he was scarcely but a child himself. He had served many years in military service to the crown, even now though he stayed away from the battlefields he left his estate yearly to the Capital to assist the crown in critical military planning, and above all that Wendy knew that he had to be kind, for if he had walked away she would have been left to face not only the scorn of society, which she felt that she could bare, but the wrath of her parents, of which she was not so confident that she would survive.
She sat with a candle burning at her vanity, her hair hung loose in dark curls around her and clad in her white nightdress, she gazed on her reflection, the flickering of the candle casting a shadow across her features. His stoic yet fiercely handsome face, his sharp silver eyes that seemed to take every detail in, they were seared into her soul. Surely, what would people say when such a man was tied to an ugly and penniless woman. He was stuck when she knew he could have any woman in the Capital. Stuck only because he had been there to save her life, the thought of what would have happened had she collapsed with no one around, gasping for breath and unable to get any, it haunted her at night.
Surely it was some cruel joke from the heavens, she thought as a tear slipped down her cheek and landed silently against the desk of her vanity, that so amiable a man, rich in wealth, high in title, and so obviously graced with a handsome face, a man so kind as to come to the aid of a stranger and then remain honorable still when accusations of sins he was free of laid at his feet, that such a man were to be paired with her, someone so displeasing to look upon, who lacked everything it might take to be a Duchess, that someone like him, was stuck with her. Surely fate had been cruel to him.
Picking up the candle from her vanity she made her way out of the room, she wished only to gaze on her younger sisters, the thought of not being in the same house as them pained her greatly.
As Wendy walked down the hall she suddenly heard the hushed arguing voices of her parents. She hastily blew the flame out, her body shaking in fear, if they saw her up and sneaking out of her room she could only imagine what they would do to her. She waited with baited breath in silence and after a moment she realized no one had come to investigate the light. Wendy started to move back to her room when the angry voices again and without thinking her feet were moving towards the door, she crouched low and peeked in.
The door was cracked and the light from a fireplace flickered into the hall, her mother and father were both still dressed in the clothes they had dined in at dinner, though her father's white, powdered wig was hanging off the arm of the chair he was sat in. Her mother stood with her hands clenched at her sides, her face red as her blonde hair was no longer up but hanging around her, Wendy tried to listen to what they were saying.
"You congratulate yourself on marrying Wendy off to the Duke with no dowry, as if that has fixed all of our problems" Bianca hissed at her uselessly drunk husband "This solves nothing! We may have rid ourselves of that useless spawn but do you think that solves the debts you have collected? What of my girls, how are they ever to be married well?!" Her voice was a shrill noise by the end of her speech.
"Enough!" Her father's voice slurred and only then did Wendy notice the open bottle of spirits situated on the table in front of him, she trembled slightly. Her father was not a kind man sober, drunk he was all the worse. "I will hear no more of your complaints tonight, Bianca. You asked me to be rid of her and I have done it with no expense to us, can you never be satisfied, woman?!" He punctuated his statement by downing another swig of his drink.
"No" Bianca hissed "For you are a fool who drinks and gambles away the dowries of my daughters, Fredric! What is your plan? To promise a dowry to their suitors and then when the marriage is signed, simply not pay?! You will be thrown into a debtors prison for that and I will be left to bear your shame as I have always had to do!" She suddenly hurled a book from a nearby table across the room and it slammed loudly into the wall.
"You bear no hardships, you painted whore! You married me for my title and you are lucky I even looked twice at a woman with such lowly birthing." He stood now and made his way to pour another drink, seeing the conversation as complete.
"Oh, but if I remember correctly you've only ever looked at poor women, My Lord." Her face was void of all emotions as she spit the words at his back "For was I not the one to help you conceal your bastard child with a mere scullery maid!"
Wendy slapped her hand to her mouth to stifle her gasp as she watched her father walk calmly over to Bianca before throwing the glass at her and backhanding her across the face, her body falling to the floor as his glass sliced a line across her neck and arm.
She turned to him and smiled from her spot on the floor, blonde hair, wild from the fall, fell across her face, blood staining her teeth as she flashed him a crazed smile, "For seven and twenty years I've carried the lie that I bore that hideous child as my own, concealed that you sired a bastard at only the beginning of our marriage! Now I will have what is due me. You will force your bastard's hand, once Wendy is fully and legally married to the Duke you will have her new husband provide the dowry's for my daughters. You will have her steal it from him if you must, but you will give me what I have earned."
Wendy stumbled backwards, not bothering to wait for her father's response to his wife.
Not her mother, Bianca Garren wasn't her mother, a maid was her mother. By the time she had stumbled back to her room and shut the door softly behind her there was already tears tracking down her cheeks. She was a bastard, a child born out of wedlock, who was her mother? Had she ever met her? Did she still work at the estate? Surely not. Bianca wouldn't have allowed herself to be disrespected like that. It suddenly made sense, Bianca's open hate for her, her disgust that she even existed. Wendy was a constant reminder of her husband's unfaithfulness.
Her mind could not handle thinking on it any more, and with silent sobs racking her body, she fell into a fitful sleep.
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