Chained Down

     As I studied myself in the mirror, nothing looked as it should. The lacy sleeves were too tight, scrunching up around my armpits, while the torso was too big and sagged around my breasts. I lifted the veil over my face, yet the mesh was too fine and I could hardly see my own reflection.
     It was no surprise to me that the dress was unfitting; it went along perfectly with the arrangement I was being forced into. 
     I was smoothing down the front of my dress when I heard the door behind me open. I caught a glimpse of my mother behind me in the mirror and could immediately feel her eyes inspecting every inch of my body, scrutinizing and unrelenting. 
     She pulled at some of the loose folds and pinched at the suffocating arms. I watched her thin lips get smaller as she frowned slightly- she was no doubt criticizing every way the fabric laid over my skin. I felt small around her, once again like a child about to be scolded, despite doing nothing wrong. I waited for whatever passive aggressive insult was to come, yet she just nodded approvingly. 
     “Once we get this dress fitted to your measurements, I think you’ll make a fine bride.” 
     I turned my head quickly to meet her eyes, searching for any signs of remorse or apology, yet there was nothing. She stared back at me, almost daring me to say something out of line. 
     She always knew how to get under my skin, how to hurt me in ways no one else could. 
     I turned my head back to the mirror, clenching my jaw shut and forcing myself to remain silent. Nothing good could come out of arguing with her, not when I was days away from being married off and leaving my home forever. The least I could do was try to leave on good terms.  
     When she finished talking about all the preparations that still needed to be done for the upcoming ceremony, my mother rushed off to get ready for dinner and summoned the maid.
While the maid helped me get on my dinner outfit, we made light conversation, talking about the cooling weather and changing leaves. I looked out the window to see the rolling storm clouds and the gardeners rushing inside, carrying their various tools that kept the rose bushes tended and the peonies perfect. 
Despite my wealth, I envied them. They had a choice to work here, yet I’ve been stuck here since birth. They had a say in what they would become, whereas I was never as fortunate.
     After struggling to get out of the horrid wedding dress, I was summoned to the dining room to have one of the last dinners I would have in my childhood home. I felt sorry as I walked the long hallways, finally appreciating the arching ceilings and detailed paintings with gold frames. 
     As maids and butlers walked past me, they all slightly bowed their heads and gave a tight-lipped smile. A small part of me hoped they would be sorry to see me go, that I would be leaving at least one person behind who cared about me, but I suspected that this wasn’t the case. This was their job, just as it was mine to be married and bear children. I sighed deeply as I entered the dining room, mentally preparing myself for the chastising that was to come. 
     The room was alive with chatter as the dining room was much more full than usual. Many extended family members had come to stay for the wedding, although I could barely put names to faces. Mother didn’t enjoy guests very much, even if they were her own family. 
     “Charlotte!” They cheered together as I entered. I had clearly been the last one to arrive, although I expected it was my mothers doing, to create something of a grand entrance. I took the chair at the head of the table and sat myself down, making introductions with the people around me. Voices rang through the air, and it was hard to keep up with. 
     “Charlotte, do you remember me, sweetie? I’m your mother’s sister. The last time I saw you, you were only just a baby!”
     “Oh, Charlie, honey, you grew up so fast.”
     “Congratulations, Charlotte. I can’t wait to watch you go down the aisle on your special day.” 
     I smiled at each person, laughing over a plate of lobster with them and pretending to remember whatever story from my infancy they were recalling. Every now and again, I caught my mother giving me looks, giving me messages with her eyes. Warnings. Smile, Charlotte. Be polite. Don’t even think about saying the wrong thing. Honor your family. Honor me. 
     I’d grown up hearing those phrases my whole life, so I’d already grown accustomed to the fact that I would someday be waltzed down the aisle, not on my own accord. Before, though, it had always been at a distance, something that would happen in the future. In ten, nine, eight years. But the years went by. All I had left was two days. 
     The next morning I was allowed to sleep in. Some sort of tradition was established that the bride had to wake up naturally on her last days as an unmarried woman. Something to prepare her for a lifetime of waking up early and serving her husband. 
     When I did wake up, I was bombarded with tons of people- more family members congratulating me, servants asking what flowers I liked for the reception, a seamstress remeasuring me to fix the dress. I barely had any time to breathe, let alone think about the stupid event. 
     Through all the chaos, I still heard my mother’s voice in the back of my head, constantly reminding me that this was my duty to my family, and I should be honored to be getting married. Now, Charlotte, remember that this is our legacy you’re carrying on. Don’t let us down. 
     Thankfully, the rest of the day went by fast enough. It wasn’t long before I was back in my bed, the only thing on my mind being the events of the day after tomorrow. I knew I had no time left, but I tried to stay up as long as possible to savor whatever I had left. As much as I despised the idea of the wedding, I felt as if I had no other option but to carry on my family’s name. It was an impossible choice, and yet it wasn’t a choice at all. 
     By the next morning, I had gotten little sleep. This time, it was my mother who woke me up, a rarity as she had always sent other people to do her motherly duties. She pulled the covers off of me and opened the shades, rushing around the room frantically. 
     “Charlotte, get up,” she ordered harshly. “Get ready and then come down to breakfast. After that, you’re having tea with your fiancé in the garden…” That sentence alone was enough to make me shoot out of bed. 
     “What? I wasn’t supposed to see him until tomorrow.”
     “...and then we’re going to have you try on the dress again. Hopefully that idiotic seamstress can get it right this time.” She looked at me, smoothed down the front of her dress, and then sighed deeply. “Make yourself presentable. We don’t want you to make a bad first impression now, do we?”	
     She stared at me, hard and long, making sure I understood the importance of the cup of tea I was supposed to share. I stared at her back, lifting my chin and making myself taller. She would never get the best of me, I wouldn’t allow it. She huffed and turned to exit the room. When she did, I held back the urge to throw the nearest golden candlestick at her. 
     The maid was summoned to help me put on my nicest outfit and do my hair as flattering as possible. After all, I was meeting the man who was going to be by my side for the rest of my life. 
     Or maybe not. After breakfast, I begrudgingly headed to the garden to introduce myself. I passed by one of the large windows on the third floor that faced the garden, and caught a glimpse of him waiting there. He was sitting at a small wicker table, across from an empty chair. Surrounding him was an abundance of potted plants, likely set there by the maids to set the mood. 
When I finally made it down there, I was taken aback by his appearance. I was expecting a young, arrogant boy my age like the many I have met before. Instead, I was met with graying hair and wrinkles. The man had to be at least forty years old. I was stunned into silence, not knowing what to say, so he took the lead.
     “They told me you were a beauty, but I’m sorry to say I underestimated you. My name is Richard.”
     “Charlotte.” I stuck my hand out, not smiling or thanking him for the compliment. He bent down and kissed my hand, and I was uncertain if he would be able to make it back up. 
     “What a lovely name, Charlotte.” I remained silent. “I presume you’re not the happiest about this arrangement?”
     “You’d be correct in your assumption.” 
     “Well, I hope you’ll find some joy and manners by tomorrow. It’s supposed to be a very happy day. I would hate for our marriage to start off on a bad note.” He said it politely, almost cheerfully, yet I could see the warning look behind his eyes. He was telling me to tread carefully, to watch what I say and start my new career of devoted and loving wife. 
     After the event from the garden, it was hard to focus on anything for the rest of the day. The only thing I could think about was the threat; his voice rang through my head. Several times I had caught myself wandering into bad headspaces, ones where I imagined how the rest of my life would be in this marriage. Within the first minute of meeting Richard, he had already subtly threatened me. What was in store for the next thirty years?
     I’d been getting ready for bed when my mother came into the room, it being the first time I'd seen her since morning. She leaned on my bed, picking lint off my pillowcase when she brought up the meeting.
     “How did tea with Richard go?”
     I stopped brushing my hair out and turned to her, not bothering to contain my disbelief. 
     “I cannot believe you.”
     “Charlotte, watch your tone.”
     “Did you know he was nearly thirty years older than me?”
     “He’s a fine man, and will be an even better husband.”
     “He’s older than you! Surely you can understand why I have a problem with this.”
     “Enough. I’m not arguing with you about this. What’s done is done.”
     I scoffed at her. “This is just like you. You’re insufferable!” 
     “And you’re selfish!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “Your entire life, I’d been hoping and praying that you’d stop being so stubborn. Don’t you see, Charlotte? Can’t you see that there is no way out of this? This is your duty!” 
     She got really close to my face and lowered her voice to almost a whisper. “So do it,” she said through gritted teeth. 
As much as I felt like breaking down, I had to make sure it was when she wouldn’t be able to see it, when she wouldn’t be able to tear me down even more. For being weak, for being selfish, for not being able to fulfill my duty to my family. 
     I held it in. I held it all in until she left the room, and when she finally had left, I collapsed on the floor. I cried, and screamed, and punched the wall and threw things around. There were slashes through beautiful wallpaper lining my room, the light pink pattern interrupted by the harsh brown underneath. The cream covers from my bed were thrown in the middle of my room, and the small sofa in the corner was overturned. My mirror had been broken and my fists were bloody. 
I was angry. I was so angry at my mother, at the world, at everyone who thought this was okay. All I had were seventeen short years to be free, before I was chained down in an unbreakable contract. I wanted to be my own person. I wanted to be independent. Tomorrow, I would be shipped off like cattle to be someone else’s.
     There was only one way to ensure my freedom. 

     When I sat at the top of the castle, the most peaceful calm washed over me. I’d never felt like I did now. I watched the sun set over what seemed like the entire world. I could see the garden, with its pretty flower bushes and swaying trees. There was a swing I always used to play at when I was younger, one that my father built for me. 
     I looked at the distant towers of the estate, and imagined the bustling maids in the golden light of the mounted candles getting linens ready for the guests. I imagined the chefs cleaning the kitchen after making their large dinner, and I imagined them doing it again after that, and then again. The paintings lining the halls would be dusted everyday, and the carpets would be scrubbed. And I knew that life would go on without me.

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