The Dark Beast's Love

How my father had been able to afford a dress sophisticated enough that it had a corset is knowledge out of my reach, but I'd never imagined myself longing back to the plainness I always wore as much as I did while the maid behind me tightened the strings to the part where it was a struggle to even breathe. It was beautiful, there was no denying that. The colour was close to plain pastel blue while its strings and details were a mix between white and pink. It was not enough for anyone to mistake me as one of the upper-class people, but it was enough for dinner with the middle-class messenger's son.Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

The maid that was currently lacing up my dress, was a family friend, or more specifically, an old friend of my mother. She'd been the one to bring me the dress and insisted that she'd help me because neither my father nor my brother had the delicacy of arranging a dress. I had been relieved at first, it was already too much that my father had forced me into a dinner with Hector Wallaby but having him try to fix my dress would only have worsened the situation, however, I would live to regret my relief. Mrs Ashington revealed herself to be a critic of everything I was doing, from the way my body wasn't as thin as a leaf to the dirt under my nails. At one point she'd even commented that my accent wasn't sophisticated enough for a young lady and that my language needed to be retrained in order for anyone to take me seriously in the future, even my fiance, a word that made me barf in my own mouth.

"But then again," Mrs Ashington shrugged as she continued pinning down parts of the dress that needed slight adjustments. "Some husbands won't let you talk at all so perhaps you might not even have to train how to speak properly, only how to shut up."

The blood was boiling in my veins and I had to clench my fist in order to bite back a nasty comment that would probably give the lady a heart attack.

Since my return the night of my proposal, my father had had people fuzzing all over me, to prepare me for the month to come. If he remembered my reluctance or my protests, he revealed nothing. It slightly infuriated me, because it meant that he genuinely didn't care anymore, that nothing I said could make him change his mind. But on the other hand, it made things so much easier.

When Nathan and I woke up hours after the proposal, we took the time to form a plan, to make sure that nothing would go wrong and that no one would know until it was too late to change it. Nathan told me that he might be able to find someone willing to wed us behind our parents' backs, and until he did he would try to alternate some documents in our favour in case his parents actually decided to give out an unexpected punishment. I told him to be careful, and precise with every word he changed on his parents' document, and to take his time, but we both knew that there wasn't enough time to think through everything. In order for our wedding to go through, I had to marry him before my wedding day with Mr Wallaby, which meant that I had to marry Nathan within the span of one month and two weeks. For good measure, we set the wedding date exactly one month from the proposal date, with two weeks room for sudden changes. I didn't really care when we were wed, only that it happened before I was forced to take someone else's hand.

The memory of Nathan's promise was exactly what I needed in order to get my act together and take one last breath before Mrs Ashington finally finished tightening the corset. I would give them a show of the perfect wife, and then I'd see their faces when they realised that none of that had ever been intended for them.

"You smile like a lunatic," Mrs Ashington startled me from my thoughts. "Someone should have taught you how to smile like a lady. Poor Marianne, she would have hated to see her own daughter so undisciplined." I pretended that the mention of my mother didn't hurt my soul. "So, all done."

I looked back at the little mirror I had in front of me and despite her harsh words, Mrs Ashington had done a great job. I looked like any other lady from the middle class, perhaps not with skin as pristine and curves as full but I looked decent enough to blend in with the masses I'd scanned many times during the few festivals that our town held. That was back in the days when my only wish was to become one of them and please my mother. Now, my main wish held a different path.

"Are we sure that's my sister?" The voice that belonged to my brother disturbed the silence. His tall figure was leaning on the doorway, his brown curls slicked back as his eyes scanned my dress. "I mean, that could be any other person out there with brown hair and eyes for all I know."

"You're not funny," I responded as I took a step away from the mirror. "Not even a little bit."

My brother was far too amused to take my words seriously.

"At least the dress will make someone happy."

I shivered at the thought of what my afternoon held.

"If she's ready we shall go immediately," My brother now looked at Mrs Ashington. "You've done a wonderful job, and one we can't let go to waste."

Mrs Ashington blushed at the kind compliment. "It was next to nothing. Your family is always dear to me dear, Mr Varius."

My brother nodded once before returning his gaze to me, his hand stretched out in an offering, one I gladly took.

I took him by the elbow when we finally stepped outside, and was grateful for the fresh air that filled my lungs, at least as much as I could manage with the corset still tight around my waist. On my way there, we were greeted by many, most of who recognised my brother as one from the security forces but some to compliment my dress and me for my engagement. Words have always travelled fast in small towns, so it did not surprise me that most of them knew already. However, those who took it a step further and told me what a great opportunity this was made me want to puke all over the dress. The messenger's son was willing to marry me for one reason and that reason only, he was as desperate as my father was. While he might be a middle-class man, he carried himself like a coward. Rumours about people talking about the skinny Wallaby son had been heard for many years, and even if his desperation had made him willing to marry a class beneath him, there were still people even in the poorer parts of town that refused to marry a twig, his height being his only socially appreciated feature.

Even if his looks did disturb me somehow, that he had lived with enough money that he hadn't had to move enough to grow muscles, it was mainly his personality that made this marriage impossible. Perhaps his status could give me a little better life than the one I currently had with a nicer home and better food, but that was about everything he had to offer. He was not one to go out to seek adventure or knowledge, people even said that while the intellects from the middle class would gather around and discuss philosophical matters, Hector wouldn't even have made it past the first page and while the stronger boys would swim in the coldest rivers, he could hide under the shadow of a tree. Perhaps he had a kind heart, perhaps even the kindest there was, but I knew that nothing about me and my longing for the adrenaline only the outer world could offer would fit with him and his fear of everything.

But despite everything, I was in front of his door, ready to play his fiance.