“I know, Olive.” I burst into tears. “I just cannot comprehend what it is they expect of me. What if he’s a brute? What if he’s bad to me?”
“Don’t focus on those things. They are negative and won’t do you any favors. Remember, this is all you know. This is all you will ever know.”
I splashed water across my face and washed away the tears. “What if I leave?” I asked.
“They would find you and you would be punished. Scorn is not something you can afford to live with.”
Olive held out a towel for me. She looked down as I stood and stepped from the bath.
“What if he repulses me?”
“Don’t burden your mind with these thoughts, or you shall wear the fear on your face tonight.”
I let out a long breath and shrugged, almost admitting defeat. “I apologize. I have no one but you to express these fears to.”
Olive wrapped the towel around me and pulled me into her arms, embracing me tightly. “I know. God knows, I know.”
“Promise me something, Olive?”
“For you, my darling, anything.”
“When I come back tonight, will you rest with me?”
“Absolutely,” she said, kissing my forehead. “Now, come. We must get you ready.”
I stood beside my bed, refusing to allow another bad thought to run through my mind. Instead, I focused on going back to school on Monday, on taking my final exams, while looking forward to my week-long break in the Cayman Islands. That, at least, lessened the burden.
As I slipped on my fresh underwear, Olive carried my dress over to where I stood, holding it out in front of me. I glanced at her, wishing she’d share her thoughts with me. She would never truly tell me what was going through her mind, however.
“Your mother chose this especially,” she said.
“I know. Mother has exquisite taste.”
“That she does.” Olive nodded, but her frown said otherwise.
“What troubles you?”
“Nothing for you to worry about.”
I knew she was lying. “Please, tell me what is troubling you, Olive.”
“I worry what is to become of me once you leave.”
My heart sank. I could sense her pain, knowing how she worried about me. I dreaded life away from her. Her warm, loving embrace, the way she consoled me when life at school got to be too much, not to mention how she filled the void left by my parents.
“I do, too.” I tried my best not to cry.
“But,” she began, “let’s not trouble our minds with this for now. Let’s focus on tonight and presenting you in a manner in which your grandfather will be proud.”
Olive was right. She always was.
“Do you suppose I am what he expects?” I asked, searching her face for some kind of reassurance.
“Francesca, he has seen you grow. He has witnessed your blossoming from afar.”
Inside, I screamed. I knew her words to be true, but I never quite knew who he was, which unnerved me beyond apprehension.
“I guess this has been my birthright since before my conception,” I said, trying not to think too much, but failing miserably.
“Yes, and it will be your daughter’s birthright, too.”
I slipped the cream silk dress over my head and Olive zipped it up at the back. The lace neckline sat just above my breasts. Not too much flesh was on show, just enough to emphasize my womanly figure.
I stared at my reflection. The butterflies began to swarm in droves inside me. Nerves were making their presence known. No matter how much I tried to conceal the evidence, it would present itself, regardless.
“What if I vomit?”
Olive playfully slapped my arm and shook her head. “I dare say if you vomit, your mother, as well as your father, will have a fit.”
I chuckled and ran my hand through my hair. “Can you imagine?”
“Yes, and that’s the worst part.”
I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
Olive rested her chin on my shoulder, gently touching my arms. “Smile, be courteous and remember your family name.”
I nodded and went over to my dresser, sitting down to apply some makeup. Fifteen minutes later, my mother came back in.
“All done?” she asked.
“Yes, Mother,” I said and smiled at her.
Setting down the lipstick, I stood and strolled toward her. She held up her hand.
“Stand there,” she instructed and proceeded to circle me.
Mother assessed me from head to toe. Perfection was the key. She’d never allow me to step into that boardroom with a strand of hair loose or my dress creased.
“Are you to wear your hair down?” she asked.
“I wanted to, yes,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.
“No, I insist on it being pulled back from your face.” She turned her attention to Olive. “Tie her hair back. I want our guest to be able to see her and appreciate her fine looks.”
Olive nodded and came over to me, ushering me back to my vanity. The unease intensified as I sat. A wave of dizziness assailed me. Breathing through it, I refused to give my mother any reason to doubt my state of mind.
My nanny scraped my dark brown hair back, tying it securely in place with a diamante clip. I stared at my reflection. The light of the room shimmered in my hazel eyes, the tears ready to burst their dam. Nonetheless, I demonstrated control.
“Much better,” my mother said. “Very well, let’s proceed, dear.”
The moment had come and I dreaded every second of it.
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About the Author
Julieanne Lynch is an author of YA and Adult genre urban fantasy, crime and contemporary romance books. Julieanne was born in Northern Ireland, but spent much of her early life in London, United Kingdom, until her family relocated back to their roots.
Julieanne lives in Northern Ireland, with her husband and five children, where she is a full-time author. She studied English Literature and Creative Writing at The Open University and considered journalism as a career path. Julieanne has several projects optioned for film.
Email: [email protected]
Julieanne loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totallybound.com.
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