The sound of the bells tolling drew her out of her stupor. A gloved hand rose up to find her cheeks dampened. Most women would draw upon confusion at her reaction. Here she sat, mere hours before she was to be wed, drowning herself in sorrows.
She once more looked into the mirror and zoned in on the scar that marred her just above her left eyebrow. Though minuscule to some, the blemish was an ever-present reminder that time did nothing in healing from memories. Once more, the familiar sensation of stinging made its way into her eyes. Hands ached to loosen the corset buried beneath the stark white fabric.
Why her mother had chosen that shade she’d never know. She had not been pure for a long time, and there was not a soul out there that did not know it.
“Genevieve?” In the mirror, she could see her step-mother gazing down at her. The mixture of awe and sorrow spoke volumes. “It’s time.”
Short deep breaths later, she arose. The walk from the parlor out to the estate’s expanse felt far more taxing than ever before. Her step-mother must have sensed the panic threatening to spill out, as a hand began pulling her along. To anyone else, it would appear as no more than a mother escorting a bride to her wedding, yet it was evident to both ladies that without the simple gesture, there would be no wedding.
⬧ ⬧ ⬧
For a moment, she looked around a bit dazed. This time around, she had made it abundantly clear that she would play no such part in the planning. Though certain everyone thought it was due to her broken heart, she made no attempts to quell their musings. She’d decided for herself that there would be no giving in to foolish illusions of grandeur. Her fairy tale ideals had long since vanished. Certainly, she was no princess and the man at the end of the aisle was no more charming than the toads that roamed in the streams beyond her father’s estate.
The dull hum of the organ makes its way through the courtyard.
Chin up Genevieve.
Magenta fabric in it's most atrocious form saunters down the aisle. She could hardly call those women her acquaintances, yet there they stood brightly smiling and dead-eyed as her bridesmaids.
Mother has gotten well versed at putting on a show.
Her eyes course the trail of fabric until they rest on the back of her husband to be. Though donned in a suit as black as she in white, she gathered from the expanse of his shoulders, that he was an able-bodied gentleman.
She could have laughed right then. Wasn’t a lady to know her spouse’s habits prior to marriage. Though that would require the action of speaking to one’s fiance beforehand. The two of them had shared mere glances before this day, and now they were to be tied together until death called upon the lucky individual.
Sooner than she'd hoped, she too had begun the journey up the aisle. When she was but a foot away, her husband to be chose that moment to turn around. Their eyes clashed in a battle for,
Pain, she thought.
Her father bestowed a kiss upon her cheek and made his way to his seat. The air around the couple grew cold, as though they were the only two outside. Slowly, a hand reached up to grasp hers. Though the barest of touches, she could not help but startle at the motion.
For a moment, she simply stared. He too stood glaring a hole at the ground. The priest finally deemed that too much time had gone by, and a simple clearing of the throat brought the couple back down to reality.
“ Dearly beloved...” the words sent her right back into her thoughts. When came time to respond she dutifully did her [part], however, it would be wrong to say she was truly present during the ceremony. It was only the words, condemning her to holy matrimony that forced her to tune back in. Before she could distinguish what course of action was to follow, her husband’s lips bestowed a kiss upon hers.
Not that one could call it that. She’d seen acquaintances share more passion than what they had done.
Together, they turned to face their guests. As expected, a variety of expressions awaited. The mixture of dread and relief did nothing to calm her nerves.
What did they have to worry about?
As they walk back down the aisle, she’d spent days dreading, shock coursed through her body. Before she realized, her husband had dragged her into a sunroom, closest to their venue. As the door shut, he let go of her hand, as though her touch burned his skin. Making her way over to the chemise, she sat demurely with her hands tucked into one another, looking anywhere but her new spouse.
He’d seemed to have a similar idea, as he too refused to look at her. The ticking of the pendulum was the only sound in the room. Slowly, he turned around. Chancing a look upward, the sheer regret in his eyes made her look away.
Clearing his throat, she heard him speak for the first time in weeks.
“I realize this is not a situation neither of us had wished for, nor could have imagined. We’ve both already been here, played husband and wife. I cannot say that I know much about your previous relationship, but understand that I never wished for mine to end. When I married my first wife, I had intended it to be the last. But rarely to circumstances go our way. I think it best if we lead our lives separate from one another, though when reputation requires, I am certain we can play our individual roles well. Unfortunately, I am not in the mood for a honeymoon, and I’m inclined to think you would agree, so I’d suggest you head up to my family’s estate. I have matters of my own to attend to her and will be joining shortly,” after seemingly debating what to do, a sharp nod of the head was all she received before he stalked out of the room, leaving her alone to her thoughts once more