Of Fairytales and Happy Endings

Chapter 42. Whose Fault?

I had a lazy Sunday today due to the fact that I came down with a bit of a cold and spent most of the day resting and getting better. I'm working hard to finish this story and as such wrote out two chapters today instead of one. Hope you enjoy the treat.

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"We are taught you must blame your father, your sisters, your brothers, the school, the teachers - but never blame yourself. It's never your fault. But it's always your fault, because if you wanted to change you're the one who has got to change." ~ Katharine Hepburn.

Chapter 42.

Whose Fault?

Beatrice eyed her mother warily. What was the old witch going to do this time? No doubt she had discovered about how Lord Woodworth had been turned down. For a full five minutes Mrs. Llewelyn just stared at her daughter in silence, her dark brown eyes peering down in anger, hate, and fury. Beatrice broke away from the stare. If her mother hoped to indimitae her, she had chosen a wrong time! What did she care about her mother now? What did she care about anything now?

At last there was the sound of the doorknob turning and her uncle walked in.

"Wonderful, the dragon and the serpent," Beatrice growled under her breath. "Don't I feel like the sheep being led to the slaughter."

The Earl of Worthington, a tall and impresive figure, but who bore little resemblance to Beatrice's late father, motioned for his sister-in-law to take a seat, then sat down himself.

"You turned him down?" Mrs. Llewelyn hissed at her daughter. "After the whole world was talking about how he was courting you, you turned him down? I would shout, Beatrice if I thought it would do any good!"

Indeed, poor Mrs. Llewelyn was so angry, she was beyond shouting, she could only speak in a quiet, almost hissing voice.

"I told him you would go back and apologize, but he said he doesn't wish to ever bring up the subject about matrimony again," she continued, glaring at her daughter. "We are past the point of return, those are the very words he spoke to me. But we know better, oh yes, we do. Beatrice, go over to him at once and use the tricks I taught you, I don't care what it takes, just do it! You must have him as a husband! Morgan, tell her she must."

"Beatrice," her uncle began in a stern voice. "It is not proper of you to run around playing with the hearts of men. Every season you leave with at least five offers turned down. You have earned a repuation, you know. You encourage the gentlemen for a few months, some you have encouraged for two or three years, and then you refuse. It is not how a lady ought to behave. Lord Woodworth is a wonderful match. He has title, money, perfect family, excellent name. You must obey your mother this instant or I shall take away the dowry money."

"By all means," Beatrice coldly replied. "I never asked for that dowry money anyway. If I am to marry it will be for a man who will not care that I only have one hundred pounds a year to my name. I don't want to marry for money."

"Aren't you beginning to sound like Catrin now!" Mrs. Llewelyn snapped. "The difference is Catrin can speak like that all she wants, for she has money! You do not! Beatrice, I order you to go and ask him to forgive you! GO!"

"I shan't!" Beatrice snapped back. "I don't want to marry him! I never did. I am tired of you choosing suitors for me, Mamma."

"Beatrice, you are twenty one," her uncle cut in. "Twenty one and unmarried! Your time to find a good catch is running out."

"Then I shall be an old maid!"

"Oh no you won't!" Mrs. Llewelyn shook her head. "Old maid indeed! I spent twenty one years turning you into the fashion beauty that you are now, I spent hundreds of pounds on tutors and lessons to make you the fine lady you have become, and you turn around and say you are going to be an old maid? I don't think so!"