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augustines2013-09-26 07:06 pm
smithereens) wrote in augustines2013-09-26 07:06 pm
keep your head up, love
“I’m off to bed, Papa.”
“Cecy, will you stay a moment?”
She straightened out of an aborted motion to kiss her father’s cheek, her eyebrows drawn in faint surprise. But Papa smiled kindly at her and took her hand, motioning for her to take a seat in the chair next to him.
“What is it?” she asked, quite unable to help her own smile in return as she squeezed his hand.
“I have a question to ask of you, my dear,” he said, and then with hesitation: “and I’m not sure how you’ll receive it.”
“It can’t be so terrible, can it?” she said, laughing. “You could never give me the glums, Papa.”
The first hint of a twinkle touched the corners of her father’s eyes. “Of course not. You’ve just always been an independent girl--quite fiercely so--and this is rather concerned with marriage.”
“Ah.” This seemed like a neutral enough response. Cecilia had never really given her inevitable marriage much thought, since it had never been imperative that she marry; her father had enough income to support her and her sister almost indefinitely, and she knew her cousin Edward would take up the task should her father die, in the unlikely event she became a spinster. Not that she wanted to be a spinster; rather, spinsterhood always seemed a remote, far-off possibility.
Besides, she had yet to meet a gentleman that seemed even vaguely worthy of being her husband. She had quite high standards, and even she knew it.
“You’ve never mentioned anything to me, so I don’t rightly know how you feel on the matter,” Papa carried on valiantly, eyes flicking towards her in consternation. “I know that any gentleman would be charmed by you, of course, though you’ve never shown any particular affections--have you?”
“Papa, are you asking if I have a tendre?”
“Well, that is--I hope that a gentleman--” he blustered, starting to turn a little red.
She laughed. Here was the other problem with marriage: she would have to part with her father. “Papa, you will be the first to know of my attachments, I promise you.”
“What of an attachment to your cousin?”
So this was the heart of it. Cecilia wasn’t deaf to society’s whisperings, which just so happened to include certain members of her family. She knew that it made sense, to keep wealth and holdings in the family, especially with two cousins so close in age and already so ingratiated with each other.
It was quite a shame that Cecilia would never consent to marry Edward.
“To tell the truth, it’s rarely crossed my mind. Would it make you happy, to see me and Ned married?” she asked, making a show of smoothing down her skirt so that she didn’t have to look at him.
Her father sighed, as if displeased with her answer. “Now, Cecy, don’t put me off like that. You already know it is the dearest wish of your grandmother, and I think it would please your aunt greatly--but I would only be happy if you were happy too.”
“I’d not call it her dearest wish,” she said dryly. “It’s true that I have a great affection for Ned, but it is only filial affection, I swear to it. He is more brother to me than cousin.”
“As I thought.” He nodded, then smiled wryly, as if in private joke. “So your grandmother’s scheme failed--she was convinced that making you great friends in childhood would dispose you to each other in adulthood.”
Cecilia laughed, since that seemed exactly like a scheme of her grandmother’s, and her father chuckled with her. “I’m afraid it’s done quite the opposite.”
“She’ll be so very disappointed.” He didn’t sound sympathetic in the least, and Cecilia squeezed his hand warmly.
“Please don’t worry about my tendres,” she said, getting to her feet and kissing him on the cheek. “I declare I’ll break all of their hearts, so that I may stay with you forever.”
“I’d be happy to help you dispose of them.”
Cecilia was quite certain he would. She shook her head in mock disapproval, lips pressed together to hide her smile, then said, “Good night, Papa.”
“Good night, my dear.”
“Cecy, will you stay a moment?”
She straightened out of an aborted motion to kiss her father’s cheek, her eyebrows drawn in faint surprise. But Papa smiled kindly at her and took her hand, motioning for her to take a seat in the chair next to him.
“What is it?” she asked, quite unable to help her own smile in return as she squeezed his hand.
“I have a question to ask of you, my dear,” he said, and then with hesitation: “and I’m not sure how you’ll receive it.”
“It can’t be so terrible, can it?” she said, laughing. “You could never give me the glums, Papa.”
The first hint of a twinkle touched the corners of her father’s eyes. “Of course not. You’ve just always been an independent girl--quite fiercely so--and this is rather concerned with marriage.”
“Ah.” This seemed like a neutral enough response. Cecilia had never really given her inevitable marriage much thought, since it had never been imperative that she marry; her father had enough income to support her and her sister almost indefinitely, and she knew her cousin Edward would take up the task should her father die, in the unlikely event she became a spinster. Not that she wanted to be a spinster; rather, spinsterhood always seemed a remote, far-off possibility.
Besides, she had yet to meet a gentleman that seemed even vaguely worthy of being her husband. She had quite high standards, and even she knew it.
“You’ve never mentioned anything to me, so I don’t rightly know how you feel on the matter,” Papa carried on valiantly, eyes flicking towards her in consternation. “I know that any gentleman would be charmed by you, of course, though you’ve never shown any particular affections--have you?”
“Papa, are you asking if I have a tendre?”
“Well, that is--I hope that a gentleman--” he blustered, starting to turn a little red.
She laughed. Here was the other problem with marriage: she would have to part with her father. “Papa, you will be the first to know of my attachments, I promise you.”
“What of an attachment to your cousin?”
So this was the heart of it. Cecilia wasn’t deaf to society’s whisperings, which just so happened to include certain members of her family. She knew that it made sense, to keep wealth and holdings in the family, especially with two cousins so close in age and already so ingratiated with each other.
It was quite a shame that Cecilia would never consent to marry Edward.
“To tell the truth, it’s rarely crossed my mind. Would it make you happy, to see me and Ned married?” she asked, making a show of smoothing down her skirt so that she didn’t have to look at him.
Her father sighed, as if displeased with her answer. “Now, Cecy, don’t put me off like that. You already know it is the dearest wish of your grandmother, and I think it would please your aunt greatly--but I would only be happy if you were happy too.”
“I’d not call it her dearest wish,” she said dryly. “It’s true that I have a great affection for Ned, but it is only filial affection, I swear to it. He is more brother to me than cousin.”
“As I thought.” He nodded, then smiled wryly, as if in private joke. “So your grandmother’s scheme failed--she was convinced that making you great friends in childhood would dispose you to each other in adulthood.”
Cecilia laughed, since that seemed exactly like a scheme of her grandmother’s, and her father chuckled with her. “I’m afraid it’s done quite the opposite.”
“She’ll be so very disappointed.” He didn’t sound sympathetic in the least, and Cecilia squeezed his hand warmly.
“Please don’t worry about my tendres,” she said, getting to her feet and kissing him on the cheek. “I declare I’ll break all of their hearts, so that I may stay with you forever.”
“I’d be happy to help you dispose of them.”
Cecilia was quite certain he would. She shook her head in mock disapproval, lips pressed together to hide her smile, then said, “Good night, Papa.”
“Good night, my dear.”