Page 67 of To Wed an Heiress
According to her grandmother, women were simply to endure all that life gave them. They weren’t to protest, speak up, or attempt to alter their fate in any way. Doing so was to invite shame. Shame, to Ailsa, was the worst thing that could happen to anyone, short of death.
Her grandmother had been difficult to please before the war. Now she was inflexible, her opinions set in stone.
“You don’t understand, Seanmhair,” she said.
Ailsa held up her hand. “Yes, I do. I understand all too well. Your parents have given you everything you wanted, and led you to believe that what you think matters. It does not, Hortense, from your name to your opinions. If the only way to get you home properly is to marry the man, that’s exactly what you shall do.”
“What?”
“You heard me, child. The minute Douglas returns, we will make arrangements.”
“I don’t wish to marry Gregory.”
“I do not care,” her grandmother said. “No one else will, either. You will do as you’re told.”
She stared at her grandmother. The situation that had been untenable five minutes ago had just turned worse.
Gregory wouldn’t mind marrying in Scotland. She could almost hear his words now. We’ll simply redo the ceremony in New York, Mercy.
She couldn’t marry Gregory.
She didn’t want to be afraid of her husband.
She didn’t want to dread being in his company.
She didn’t want to be bullied or badgered, endlessly criticized and critiqued.
She wanted to be in love and she didn’t love Gregory.
Ailsa kept her gaze, never once blinking.
Mercy realized that nothing she said would make any difference to her grandmother. Nothing.
She doubted that Uncle Douglas would listen to her pleas and allow her to remain at Macrory House. He’d disapproved of her the minute she’d arrived. First, she’d traveled all the way from America with just her maid. The second, unforgivable thing she’d done was to associate with Lennox.
“I have to go,” Mercy said, not even bothering to come up with an excuse to leave the room, only knowing that she had to before she said something she couldn’t retract. Or uttered a comment Ailsa would hold against her.
Her grandmother only nodded again, not one word of affection passing her lips.
Chapter Thirty-One
When Ruthie came to help her dress for dinner, Mercy didn’t reprimand her for trying to work. Instead, she was grateful for the presence of one of the few people in the house who liked her.
“I’m not feeling well, Ruthie. I’m not going down to dinner.”
“But neither is Miss Elizabeth or your grandmother, Miss Mercy.”
She doubted if either woman was ill. Gregory had served in the Union and, as such, was probably an unacceptable dinner companion for two Southern women. At least according to her grandmother.
He was good enough for Mercy to marry, however.
At any other time she would have gone down to the dining room, representing the family even if she didn’t want to do so. Not now. Not after her grandmother had decreed her future. No doubt Ailsa had already informed Gregory of her plans.
She couldn’t bear sitting alone at the table with a gloating Gregory.
“Perhaps you can put out that we’re all ill with some malady, Ruthie.”
“But you’re never sick, Miss Mercy.”
