Aromantic Desires

XII

Frisella and Martin Knight: May 10th, 1812.

Mr. Knight felt that in his bones, his wife was behaving odd since Audrey and the others came back. Her shoulders that usually were laid back and firm, were now droopy. Neither her appearance nor her emotional state were being taken care of. She looked rather tired and bothered. Though seeing this, her husband tried everything to help her return to her happiest self. She was carrying a child after all; stress is not entirely virtuous for an unborn child to have.

"Perchance, this is one of those women's things, where being with child, is sucking the life out of her," he thought hesitantly. Frisella always was a gay one, still so far those emerald eyes have lost their glow. Similarly, he noticed that she had been sneaking off, at the peak of midnight. That is because of her loud manner of leaving the room and Martin's light sleeping. The worry and guilt that crept upon Mr. Knight had completely consumed him and he had no choice but to confront her.

"Darling, please. What troubles you?" Mr. Knight cried, whilst stroking her small.

"I am just a bit tired and I do need my rest. Certainly, I would not get any, with you patronizing me," she hissed, clearly letting her frustration out.

"I am hardly doing so. Is it wrong of me to simply ask what has bothered you? You are my wife, after all."

"I am entirely fine. It is just my cravings that get the best of me. Now that I think of it………. I am in the mood for something sweet."

"Oh, Frisella enough with the games. You are not one's true self anymore. You don't do embroidery or play harp; or even spend time with……with me. Was there something I have done to vex you?"

"What? What makes you think that you did something wrong? Have you?"

"So you do admit that you are troubled?"

"I did not-"

"Give up, darling. You certainly did not deny it."

Tiny beads of sweat trickled down Frisella's forehead as a fearful, gut-wrenching feeling came into her. Her husband was just too caring, to even think that this was her fault. And that made her hate what she did even more.

"There is nothing going on. And I mean nothing. I am carrying a child and I am obligated to have mood swings."

"Do not sport with me, Frisella."

It was clear that Mr. Knight had lost his patience. He took a step closer, his breath held.

"I am not," Frisella whispered.

His eyes darted left to right on hers, looking for a sign of discomfort. Obviously, she did not show any.

"A-Alright," he whispered back.

Shortly after, they were then interrupted by the quaint knocking of Eliza. She came in holding a small white envelope, informing that it was for the Duchess. Mr. Knight slowly watched his wife's face turn from jolly to worried, once more. It may have had an impact on his mood as well. His face showed it all.

"Who is it from?" he interrogated.

"I do not know. It does not say. I cannot see anything in this God forsaken room!" she chuckled nervously.

"Can I have a look," his hands trusted outright.

"D-Do not worry, dear. I will read it tomorrow."

"And have the sender waiting? How unprofessional for a Duchess to do so. Unless……"

"Unless what?" She gulped, as her tone grew high.

Mr. Knight stepped back from being in her personal space. He placed his hands on his hip and sighed.

"Is it a formal letter or a……friendly letter?"

"What in heaven-"

"Answer the question."

"Well, the person did address me on a first name basis-"

"Now, I am not going to waste my time here, playing tug of war with you. I am politely asking for the letter." He lowered his voice. Honestly, Frisella did get a tad scared.

"Martin, I am not done-"

Finishing that sentence was no use. Mr. Knight shamelessly snatched the letter from Frisella's burning fingers. He looked at her, his eyebrows narrowed with confusion, as he blindly unfolded the letter. He turned facing his back towards her on the chair. Handwritten and quickly done, the letter was written as followed:

'Frisella, I have thought about what you have said. Well, more so yelled at me and I have made my decision. I will stay here in Dudley, with you and my child, as being a part of his or her life, is more of a blessing than a business proposal. I look forward to seeing you tonight. And our little one."

The folded paper in his hands trembled. Frisella slowly rose from her chair, with tears forming in her eyes. The room was silent as a mouse, desperately needing some sort of sound.

"Martin, I swear to you, that I was going to tell-"

"Oh, Hell. So it is true. Well, I swore that some vagabond wrote this and you had no idea," he squealed.

"Oh,…….I am so, so sorry, Martin."

"Indeed you are. How about we both go meet this mystery man? I want to see what possessed you to do……..to do such a thing! That child may not even be mine? Make it known, that when this is all over, there is no 'us' no more."

He ferociously pointed at her, reassuring that what he meant will certainly be so. Frisella gulped so many times that her throat was in pain. It was finally happening. Her actions had caught up to her and now she has to face the music. The only problem (besides this one) was what people thought of her, when they heard what she had done. They will certainly scold her, shone her away from gatherings, taunt her by saying she was simply 'a vile hedge creeper', looking to scrape up more than she should carry. Well, the time for worrying about what "she said, and they said '' is not near.

??

As they approached the meeting place of the two lovers, Frisella prayed to God that he decided not to show up. Martin on the other hand, was praying that he did, so he will give him a piece of his mind. More so, fist to face. As they waited for what seemed an hour, Martin grew tired, as he tightly clasped his hands on Frisella's arm.

"Is he not coming?" He shouted, letting his anger get the best of him.

"I do not know." Frisella sheepishly whispered, consumed by fear.

Upon saying so, they turned on hearing faint footsteps on the cobblestone road.

It was him and Martin was prepared for anything. When the man got closer, the doubt that was not present in Martin grew larger and larger. This must be a terrible and cruel joke.

"You!? Of all people? What in God's name…………….Bullocks!" Martin screamed.

Frisella watched the man, as tears forming in her eyes glazed and her head started pounding.

"Cornelius. He is-He may be the father." She whispered, trying to ease her way in this dilemma.

Cornelius and Frisella occasionally flirted as adolescents, when he visited for short periods of time. The ladies of the estate were all swoon with his gentlemanly ways and mannerisms. Only Frisella knew of what hid underneath. Cornelius also was at Audrey's birthday party, where he encountered Daisy, intoxicated with alcohol and on the darker side, Jack who despised him truly. Before, Jack did say that his rakish ways would catch up to him.

As you can see it did. And in one of the most cruel ways.