tirsdag den 3. maj 2011

Chapter 2, part 2

“I don't think you should stay with us at the house any more,” he said. Before she could protest, he continued. “Maybe for now you can stay here. But it would just be until I find you a good place to stay. I have a friend who has asked about you and who might be willing to pay for a year or two of education before officially asking for your hand.”

Catherine's hopes went sky high and then plummeted to the ground as he spoke.

“You want me to marry? Now?”

“Not right away!” He looked slightly embarrassed. She hoped it was shame. “Like I said, in a year or two... Maybe even much later than that, nothing is decided yet.”

“But I would live in his house as soon as you decided it. And then become his wife soon after?”

“It's a wonderful opportunity for you to make something of yourself, think about that.”

“But what for? Will he allow me to do anything else after he marries me?”

“Now, Catherine,” her father began to sound angry. “I told you nothing has been decided, and you have to agree with me that this is the best solution. I will not have this tone from you.”

“Why can't you just come home?” Catherine whispered. Her father coughed and rose from his position on the floor and went to speak to Mr. Pegg as if he had not heard her.

He left soon after, only stopping to let her know that she would indeed stay with the Pegg family for now. It was better news than she had hoped for, but she was afraid for what would happen next. Pushing it out of her mind, she turned back towards Gabrielle, who had been keeping her company ever since she told her about her fathers plans for her. Gabrielle had not said much, but was very clearly offering her sympathy, which Catherine appreciated.

Her father came back again two weeks later. Catherine had been enjoying herself so much that she had almost been able to forget about the plan he had made for her. The look on her face told her that the news he was bringing were not very good for her. If nothing else, then the bag flung over his arm was a sure sign that something was up. She recognised it as one of the ones her stepmother had had her transport dressed in.

He was in a very festive mood when he handed her what did in fact turn out to be a dress. Martha had sown it with great care for the occasion, possibly as a way of ridding herself of some of the shame she felt. Catherine dutifully bathed and put it on as she had been instructed. Gabrielle silently braided her hair, her movements rushed with the anger she felt but comforting to Catherine.

It was a few hours past noon when she was ready. Her father seemed relaxed and they took their time getting outside. Gabrielle held her hand until they went through the door and Catherine wanted to cry. Her father seemed oblivious to her dark mood and started telling her about how he had met the man she was about to meet on a journey far to the east.

“He's been living here for the past decade, but he has had too much to do to find anyone. His business is really going well, you'll be more than well off if... well, he's not a bad man is what I'm saying. You'll see for yourself when you meet him. He told me he would happily wait a few years and let you study for a while if that is what you wish to do. Like I said, he is quite busy, so he is rarely home. You would really be able to do a lot of interesting things. You could probably even learn how to help him out. I mean, there are things in the trading business that men can't do very well. You could learn how to be a hostess and help him win over people. Or you could even help him with the books. Wouldn't that be exciting?”

Catherine, who had not listened to most of this, nodded and tried to smile. It was obviously no use discussing the issue. She could tell by the firmness in his voice than he was not so much trying to persuade her as trying to cheer her up about it.

The house she had grown up in looked somewhat unfamiliar to her. It could be her absence, her father's presence or just her nervousness, but she did not feel at home or at ease. A slightly strange air in the room told her, before she saw him, that their “guest” had already made himself comfortable in a chair on the other side of the room. Her stepmother had done her best to make the small living room look nice. They rarely used the room when they did not have guests, and it smelled like dust.

The table had been covered with a pristine, white clothe and set with tea and small cakes. The man in the chair rose and strode across the room to greet her father.

“Ah, Alfred,” her father said. “I'm so glad you could make it. This is my daughter, Catherine.”

The man, Alfred, her intended if all went according to plan, turned towards her and shot her a flashing smile. He was tall and dark haired, not bad looking, but at least as old as her father.
“Catherine! How nice to meet you,” he said, then looked back at her father. “Your wife was just telling me that you've been away for the past months? Did you hear anything about the battle?”

The two men settled into their chairs, and Catherine hesitantly followed suit. She sat on the edge of her chair and heard her father tell Alfred about his recent adventures. She did not listen. The entire experience was unreal.

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