Page 13 of To Wed an Heiress
His comment had been an indication of things to come. She wouldn’t have a choice about anything in the marriage. The way she wore her hair, the color of her dress, the people with whom she’d associate, or how she spent her days would be subject to the whims of her husband. Where once she’d followed the dictates of her parents, now Gregory would be in charge.
The war had changed a great many things. She’d read that women were expected to take on duties they’d never before assumed. They kept businesses running while their husbands went off to war. They planted crops, went to market, and formed associations of women helping women. Gone were the days of women having to remain subservient or without a voice.
Yet change, progress, and growth had skipped Gregory somehow. All he wanted in a wife was an obedient female.
Her parents had never seen her as grown and Gregory would always view her as his puppet.
The seeds of her rebellion had been planted that night.
When she’d told him that she no longer wanted to marry him, Gregory had lost his temper. No doubt because he envisioned all his ambitious plans being destroyed. He wasn’t mollified by her reassurances that her father wouldn’t dismiss him from his position just because they were no longer engaged.
She’d never anticipated that he would refuse to accept her decision.
Badgering her hadn’t worked. Neither had his incessant calling on her or bringing her gifts. Unfortunately, her parents saw his new attentiveness as proof of his affection.
She’d talked to her mother one morning, bringing up the subject of her engagement.
“I don’t want to marry Gregory,” she’d said, the words difficult to say.
She’d never disobeyed her parents and rarely challenged them. She didn’t want to hurt her mother or cause her any pain. Life had not been easy for Fenella Rutherford, despite the fact that she was married to a wealthy man.
Her mother had looked surprised, but hadn’t said anything right away. The unexpected silence had been a void Mercy felt compelled to fill.
“It’s not that he’s not an admirable man, Mother. Or that he wouldn’t be a good husband.”
“Then why do you feel that way, Mercy?”
She looked down at her hands nervously twisting together. “He and I don’t suit.”
“You were very supportive of Gregory during the war.”
She nodded. She had been. What kind of woman would have broken an engagement to a soldier fighting for his country?
“Nor does Gregory seem to feel the way you do, Mercy.”
How did she tell her mother that Gregory truly didn’t care about her, that he would have married her if she’d had two heads as long as she was James Rutherford’s daughter?
She tiptoed among the words, picking the right ones. Her mother had to understand.
“I don’t wish to marry him, Mother. I can’t envision living the rest of my life with Gregory.”
“That’s only silliness, Mercy, and you’re not a silly girl. It’s natural for a young woman to feel as you do. Marriage is not as frightening as you think it is. You’ll see.”
“I don’t want to marry him, Mother. Truly.”
Her mother had shaken her head and smiled. Reaching over, she’d patted Mercy’s arm.
“Your feelings will go away the minute you marry him, Mercy. I’m sure of it. It’s only fear that’s making you say these things now.”
Perhaps it was fear, but not the type her mother thought. She didn’t want the life her parents and Gregory had planned for her.
“We won’t hear any more of this, all right? You’ll be fine. What you’re feeling will go away in time. You’ll even smile at what you’re feeling today.”
She’d known, then, that her mother didn’t understand. By extension, neither would her father. The marriage would happen whether she wanted it or not.
Coming to Scotland had not only been a way to obtain some freedom, but it had been a respite, of sorts, from Gregory. The freedom wasn’t going to last, of course. Sooner or later she’d have to return, but when she did, hopefully he would have finally understood that their engagement was over.
No, she wasn’t the one to give advice of the heart to anyone.
