Page 37 of A Father's Insistence

“I want you to listen to everything, please. Before you speak, you have to listen.”

I nod acceptance of her terms.

“Father came and found me the day I was given to Nicholas. He told me it was time for my debut in society. I was dressed by Elsie in a white linen gown, and she styled my hair in a French plait.”

“A white linen gown. Joanna wore one to our wedding.” I realize I’ve interrupted her already and bow my head in apology.

“We all wore them…five girls in total. All born during the same year, and all given to Nicholas on his thirtieth birthday”

I nod because my father has told me about this being a requirement of a centuries old society our ancestors were forced to join.

“I was led into the room and introduced to another couple of the girls. I remember Joanna well. Her father was telling her off because she had frizzy hair. She looked terrified. I, on the other hand, was confused. I didn’t really understand what was happening. Eventually Nicholas and his father appeared, and we were brought forward one by one and branded with the Oakfield Crest.”

Bile rises in my throat. I’ve seen the mark on my wife’s thigh: a vicious scar in the shape of an Oakleaf.

“After that, everything became crazy. We were lined up and inspected by Nicholas. He was told to choose three of us to carry on further in the trials to select his wife. The other two would be sold.”

“Trials?” I ask, and she nods, and then looking sorrowful, she lowers her head.

“I endured some of the trials, and they’ve shaped me into the person I am today. Nicholas seems like a bad man when I tell you all this, but he isn’t. He was under the influence…no, the control of his father. I saved him from that, and he saved me in turn.”

“What trials?”

“Theo, please.”

“What trials?” My response is terse, my hands pull away from warming my sister’s, and I clench them into fists.

“I was placed in a scold’s bridle, for one, before I was led around naked while being whipped.”

“A scold’s bridle?” I can’t believe I’m hearing this from my own sister. She’s suffered just as much as Joanna has, possibly even more. What type of people do things like this in modern society? What type of organization is the Oakfield Society? “Who did this to you?”

She looks up at her husband, and I don’t need her to answer. I know exactly who it was. Without another thought, I’m out of my chair and racing across the room with my fists held up high in front of me.

“Theo, no!” Victoria screams. “Please.”

My fist is inches from Nicholas’ already bruised face when I pull it back before landing a punch.

“You monster. How could you do that?” I spit at him.

“I regret it every day,” he responds, and I see the guilt in his eyes.

I spin around, pulling at the ends of my hair in frustration.

“He did that to you, yet you love him?” I can’t understand my sister’s reasoning, and I’m doubting her sanity at this point. Has she been brainwashed? “Does he still hurt you?”

“No.” Victoria is on her feet and pleading with me to understand. “Never. He’s not the man he was that day, and that’s why we’re being attacked. He’s trying to change the society from what it once was and eradicate the evil element within it.”

“The artwork?” I question.

Nicholas responds, “We are returning it all. Since the inception of the society, art has been stolen to fund it. The eldest son of the leader is taught the skills needed to continue providing for the society. I stole the painting, but I also returned it along with several others.”

“So, you’re a thief and an abuser! Yet my sister says you’re a good man.”

“He is, Theo. He’s the best. He’s trying to make things better, but he’s being thwarted at every turn.”

“I’m not buying this, Victoria.” I reply, shaking my head. My skin heats with fury, and a bead of sweat forms on my brow. “He’s not a good man.”

“Nicholas may have done wrong. He’ll pay in eternity for some of the things he’s done, but he is a good man in a society full of evil,” Victoria hisses at me through her clenched jaw.

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