Cursed to Love: The Golden Curse

Chapter 6: A Date With Destiny

Chapter 6: A Date With Destiny‘Rumors of the Demon King spread from land to land until every border country feared their Nordic neighbor and his curse.’ – History of Gyllene

“There’s no dissuading you is there?” Gran asked as Gilda brushed her hair for the third time that day, and it was not yet noon.

“He’s sending a coach Gran. What would you have me do? Besides, the situation is more complicated than you understand. It truly is best if I go.” Gilda assured her quietly. Gran sighed and helped Gilda change into the green/gold dress. Her yellow day dress wasn’t good enough for the Squire.

“I didn’t raise you to be no fancy man’s kept woman. Your Mah’r, and Dah’r, didn’t neither.” Gran said as she handed Gilda her green shawl. Gilda groaned.

“You know full well that I won’t agree to anything so insulting! Doesn’t much matter now though does it? Not when the entire village already thinks it.” Gilda said slipping into the rabbit pelt slippers Gran had made for the faire.

“Aren’t we giving up on the woodsman too soon?” Gran asked desperately. “He doesn’t go into town over much…he won’t be party to gossip…” Gilda made a hissing noise.

“Enough Gran! I may well end up being the odd old lady who lives alone in the woods. But you’ll live forever, so I won’t be alone for a good long time.” Gilda said tucking a few flowers into her hair in lieu of peacock feathers. Gran sighed. She certainly wouldn’t make it as many years as she wished. She was already 68 years old, which made her ten years past dead in the life expectancy of a village woman, but then, she wasn’t an ordinary village woman. She was kept from retorting by a sharp rap at the door. Gran opened it to see a smartly dressed footman.

“Is a Miss Lillan here please?” He asked politely. His eyes roved over the poorly kept house, the partially plucked chicken hanging from the ceiling, and the pile of badly cut wood on the front porch.

“Yes. She be.” Gran said in as thick a low country accent as possible. Gilda fought the urge to roll her eyes at her Gran or to slap her as she stepped into the light by the door. The footman tried to keep from displaying shock on his face. A beautifully dressed angel had stepped out of the gloomy hovel. He had half expected a snaggle toothed girl with dirty braids and a checkered apron. The fact that this girl had come from inside that hovel was nothing short of miraculous.

“I am she, Sir. You must be the footman of Lord Gravely? You are here to convey me to his estate?” She asked in a beautifully posh, clipped tone. He nodded, mute with surprise and gestured toward the ornate little coach that was parked awkwardly in front of the cottage. With no road leading to it, it was remarkable that a coach had managed to make it there without upsetting. The driver must have been talented indeed to get it through all the trees. The only vehicle to have made it through the woods to their location previously, had been her parent’s cart. It had been at least thirteen years since anyone had brought a vehicle down that little path or made an efforts clearing it.

“May I compliment you on your superior driving skills? Not many coachmen could make their way here without significant damage to their coach or their own person!” Gilda said to the little coachman perched on the front as the footman guided her to the coach and handed her in. The coachman doffed his cap with a surprised smile. He didn’t approve of his Squire mixing with the class of person that came from hovels in the middle of the woods, but now he pitied the man. Who would not admire this remarkable girl? She clashed so very starkly with her surroundings.

Gilda sat down on the shining leather seats. In general, she enjoyed new adventures. She was the sort of person who craved more than could possibly be gleaned from her meager surroundings.

“He’s inviting her here, for tea! Phillip you have to do something! This has already gone too far!” Lady Eugenia Gravely begged her brother. She flung herself down dramatically on the peach satin chaise in the little sitting room as though suddenly overcome by vapors. “I’ve worked myself into a state over this and she isn’t even here yet! Salts! Someone bring me some salts!” Lady Eugenia exclaimed melodramatically. Lord Phillip just rolled his eyes and went to watch out the window for the girl. This was only the third time today that his sister had demanded smelling salts…she was restraining herself apparently.

“She seemed very polite and sweet.” Lady Catherine said attempting to pacify her sister.

“Sweet and polite? Can you really be saying this? She was common! So dreadfully common! Obviously painted, possibly wearing a wig…and I’m not even sure she had all her teeth! And yet father is besotted with the creature.” Lady Eugenia exclaimed, having difficulty deciding whether to sound distressed or taxed and weak.

“How far can it really go?” Lord Phillip asked from the window. He stroked his fine waxed mustache. “It’s not as if he’s going to marry the girl, or worse yet take her as his ward! The worst that could happen is that he keeps her here. He’s a moral, mild sort of man. He will understand that the only suitable situation would be to keep her quietly. I’m sure he would be very discreet, and limit her access to a handful of rooms. If she becomes his woman, none of us will probably even see her…he would never be so lewd as to expect us to mix with her. You’re over reacting.” Lord Phillip said confidently.

“But if he should do something foolish? As his wife or his ward she would be given money, an inheritance… Even if he kept her here, or kept her elsewhere, there would still be expense. Can we allow it?” Lord Andrew asked. He rose from the pianoforte where he had been aimlessly playing scales and joined his brother by the window. Lady Catherine sighed.

“Should we not just see what father intends before we jump to dangerous conclusions?” She asked.

“He is bringing her here!” Lord Andrew said tugging on his artificially curled pale brown hair, it was disappointingly the color of a paper bag. “What more do we need to know? Nothing good can come of it. We should think of a solution to handle the situation the minute we are presented with what that situation is.” He said in desperation. As the younger of the two brothers, he was already set to inherit so little. He wasn’t a tall, strong or handsome man. It stood to reason that as a less than attractive second son, he wasn’t likely to marry well either. He couldn’t bear the thought of some country girl taking what little he had. Lord Phillip sighed and put his forehead against the glass of the window pane.

“I already have a solution. It is a bit drastic. One of those utterly dreadful townspeople suggested it. The man resembled nothing so much as a fat weasel, and his plan was crude. However, should the need arise, I will feel no qualms in employing it. Please don’t trouble yourselves. I have it all in hand.” He said in a voice so stuffy and affected, that it was almost unintelligible.

Gilda was handed out of the carriage by the footman, and greeted by the smiling Squire. He was splendidly dressed, more so than he had been in town, and his gray hair was fancifully quaffed and curled with a pony tail and satin bow. He bowed to her jovially, she curtsied deeply and took his hand. She felt like a gaudy little bird compared to his sophisticated pastel appearance.

“You are a vision my dear! Even without the peacock feathers, you look…” He took her in with a sweeping glance. “Simply divine. Are you sure you are not some sort of angel? Other-worldly spirit? Fairy Queen?” He asked teasing. Gilda blushed and shook her head.

“As mortal and ordinary as any other girl of your acquaintance, I imagine, my Lord.” She answered with a self-deprecating dip of the head. “I do wish to thank you for the lovely basket you sent to me and my grandmother! I am sure that we have never had so fine a breakfast. You have spoiled us quite utterly I’m afraid.” Gilda smiled slightly. “I suppose I should really be angry with you, for introducing me to such fleeting luxury!” She giggled, so as not to make the remark seem calculating.

“I’m afraid you shall have to permit me to spoil you further, as I have ordered quite a sumptuous tea for us this afternoon.” He said leading her into a very elegant parlor. A blue and white oriental tea pot was on a central table, flanked by two tall, elegant, sky blue padded chairs. A servant pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit. Gilda wished she hadn’t put flowers in her hair. She looked so very gauche across from the dapper squire. A large triple tiered silver tray of tiny little tea sandwiches was being set down. Gilda reached to pour the tea for the Squire. He caught her hand in his and shook his. Oh! She had been about to commit a serious social faux pas, and the Squire was attempting to save her embarrassment. She withdrew her hands and folded them in her lap as her tea was poured by a disapproving servant with pursed lips. As a peasant, she ranked lower than he did, and he no doubt resented being asked to wait on her.

“I do hope you like the assortment of sandwiches. I have cucumber, potted tongue, carrot and raisin, as well as butter and chive. However, I should tell you that if you prefer sweets they will be bringing muffins and marmalade once we dispense with the sandwiches, and tea cakes after that.” He said, speaking quickly and almost nervously as he allowed a servant to hand him some silver tongs before taking an assortment of sandwiches. Gilda smiled politely and took a second set of smaller “ladies tongs” from a female servant with a sour expression. The woman was clearly there only the for the benefit of Gilda’s reputation. Male servers were more fashionable due to the higher wage they required.

“They all look so delicious, how does one decide?” She asked.

“One doesn’t!” He said with a chuckle. She noticed that his plate had eight on it, so she no longer felt awkward about having taken one of each. “I always think it best to have everything. My late wife often scolded me for my excesses, my fits of whimsy, and my tendency to do as I please but…she was the one who awoke every morning with a headache from far too much sherry.” He said with a titter at his own humor. Gilda smiled generously and did not suggest that his wife’s embarrassment at his impropriety may have caused her tendency to over-indulge.

“Your way of life then, must be a particularly enjoyable one. Not all of us permit ourselves to embrace life so fully.” Gilda said honestly. He smiled.

“See you understand! Of course the girl who dresses in a cape made from foundling peacock feathers would understand! My children do not understand my ways either, they all think me a trifle senile I’m afraid. Just a doddering old fool, but you – so young and full of vivacity. You share my spirit do you not?” He asked eagerly. Gilda smiled indulgently.

“While I lack the years to be allowed the honor of being called ‘senile’, my Lord, I will admit that I am not always well understood in town. My grandmother has tried desperately to train the whimsy out of me. She even let me attend grammar school with the village boys, she rather hoped that an education might bore the vanity out of me. But I fear I am as silly as a French poodle.” Gilda giggled. “My apologies for babbling. One of the many faults of vain and silly girls is our inability to be parsimonious with our speech.” Lord Timothy actually found her lengthy anecdote quite impressive. If the girl knew the meaning of the word parsimonious, then she was more intelligent and less silly than half the noblewomen he had met.

“On the contrary my dear. When I wish to have a conversation with a woman, I do wish she would allow herself to converse! So many girls are trained to blush and smile and gaze becomingly up at you from under their lashes, but rarely to speak except to nod and murmur agreement.” He said with a shake of his head.

“They must sound like a herd of very delicate cows, with all the murmuring.” Gilda said, and then instantly regretted it. But to her surprise he laughed loudly with his hand to his mouth.

“Ho! Ho! You are a wicked thing!” He said with a shake of his finger, but he was smiling. “Sheep more like! Or goats. My elder son’s fiancé sounds just like a sheep – and the fluffy wig she wears! My dear girl, I cannot help say out loud that she…” He whispered. “Looks like one!” He squeaked in a jolly tone as he helped himself to a scone with cream as the sandwiches were whisked away and replaced by muffins and marmalade, as well as scones with sweet clotted cream. “Would I be a terrible father if I said that my daughter’s intended husband has a wig of nearly the same quality? I am afraid I shall soon be surrounded by a herd of them! Ha!” He chortled at his own joke.

“Dear me! I hope you plan to serve much salad in your dining room after their weddings.” Gilda said, mildly disappointed to hear that the elder son was engaged…as if that were still on the table. Squire Timothy guffawed at her inappropriate joke.

“If only my older son less engaged or my younger son less…whatever he is.” Less of a judgmental, dandified, stick in the mud, were the words he would use to describe his very finicky younger child. Although what he really meant was…less French. However, these words were unsuited for the ears of this girl, whom he thought of as though she were a Lady. “But that cannot be helped.  I do wish that I were a trifle younger.” He sighed. “But, I am afraid I made this mess of your life and reputation, and so I should be the one to fix it.” He said with a decisive nod.

“Please Sir, you must not trouble yourself on my account. I scarcely see how there could be anything you could do at this point. Please, my troubles are not the concern of a man who presides over an entire estate.” Gilda was embarrassed to have her chastity be the topic of concern or discussion. He shook his head and put his hand on top of hers. Gilda was too surprised to withdraw it. He couldn’t possibly be about to…

“It is true Miss Lillan, that I have few options left to assist you. But as I am a widower who has produced two heirs and two daughters, by a very suitable Baroness…I have more freedom than I had in my youth.” Oh God. He really might be going to. He was over fifty, gray haired, wearing a monocle, and yet he was most definitely her best current option. Gilda tried to swallow the rising bile in her throat without being obvious.

“I’m sure you enjoy having such freedom! It must be a great comfort to know that you have achieved so much, while you are still so vital.” Gilda spoke flatteringly. Should she be buttering him up with compliments so that he would continue? Or she should be excusing herself and running for the door? He smiled at her indulgently.

“Were I a younger man, without heirs, things would be different of course. Even now, I suppose I could simply offer you a life here, with all the benefits it entails – clothes, fine food, lovely rooms, and the freedom to roam the estate… But given that I am much freer now, than in the past, I see no harm in offering you the benefit of my name as well as my resources. The difference in our stations and our ages might upset my children briefly…you are younger than all of them except Lady Catherine. But I think that I have earned the right to make such a bold choice. Don’t you?” He looked expectantly at her. Gilda swallowed. He was asking her whether or not she thought he should ask her to marry him? How could she answer without sounding mercenary, or ungrateful? That, and he had put it so insultingly! Telling her he could simply make a pet of her, but he wouldn’t, so she should be ever so grateful?

“Sir, I am afraid I am a simple country girl. I’m not entirely sure I know what you are asking.” She began, looking up at him through her eyelashes. When in doubt of what to say, it was best to play dumb. Men always believed it. They were never surprised to find that their turns of phrase had been too clever for a mere woman to decipher. But the Squire laughed.

“You may have grown up in the woods outside a little country village, but the country has made very little impression on you I think. You are too well spoken for me to believe you don’t know when you are being proposed to! You will marry me won’t you?” He asked clear as day. “Let me rescue you from that untenable situation in the woods. You were clearly made for better things my dear.” He said gripping her hand more tightly.

“But Sir, we barely know each other!” Gilda said stalling for time. Could she really marry this man? He was so much older than she was! It would be easy to think of the kindly, rather silly and oblivious man as a father figure, but she doubted that was the mindset he desired in a wife. He laughed in an indulgent way.

“My dear child, I find you utterly fascinating and am terribly drawn to you. Men, as you know have the luxury of falling in love before they are married. Poor delicate creatures that you women are, you could not conceivably be permitted feel affection for a man until a formal announcement of intent had been made. You will, as most women do, grow to have affection for your husband after you are wed. My late wife never did grow to have any great feeling for me what so ever, and she still fulfilled her duties as my wife quite to my satisfaction! She bore me four children, two of whom were male, was a superlative hostess for the necessary social functions and kept our estate in quite good order.” He said in a surprisingly jovial tone, despite the rather disheartening things he was saying. “I no longer require an impressive Lady from a noble family to host parties as my daughters have taken over those duties, and I have very nearly given up the managing of my estate to my sons. Your task will be very minimally difficult, if difficult at all. The fact that we have not known each other long should not keep you from making a quick decision.” He assured her. Gilda got up from the chair, reclaiming her hand and moved to the window. The estate was beautiful. Every bit of everything she had wanted for herself. However, in her fantasies she had hoped it would be offered by a handsome young man…not an absurd older one. How had she been so blind as to over-estimate her worth so completely?

“It’s just that it is such a surprise! I could never have expected to be made such an offer.” She said attempting to soften the rudeness of her flight to the window. She knew logically that she had to say “yes”, it wasn’t as if she really had a choice. If her refusal angered him, he could have her hung for poaching – he had the entire town as witness to her crime. He could also press her to accept if he wanted to. She doubted that he would…but she was a tenant of his estate and he was a Lord. All he would have to do is dismiss the servants and bar the door. She didn’t think he would stoop so low, but she had no other viable options than to marry him even if he didn’t. With the incident in the woods yesterday, she would need the protection of an advantageous marriage. Having been seen talking to invisible beings made an accusation of witchcraft an eventuality rather than a possibility.

“I understand that a girl of your station could never expect such an offer from a man such as myself, but surely you realize what an opportunity this is?” He asked coming to stand by her at the window. “Of course you are concerned about the awkwardness that our differences in class could create, but I will furnish you with the most discrete of private tutors! You need have no fear of using the wrong fork at a banquet and causing a stir!”

Gilda just stared. She had not even considered refusing him due to fork-usage related concerns. He didn’t seem to notice her look of surprise as he continued rambling incessantly. “I do understand that you must protest momentarily out of maidenly shyness, but that time has elapsed! It has been a full five minutes since we began the conversation! No one could accuse you of appearing over-eager for the marital bed. You must, of course, pretend indifference to me so as not to appear grasping, as I am so much your superior in wealth and station… Oh do say yes and get it over with! We must strive to get you tutored in time to have an autumn wedding. A winter wedding would make my children nervous, as being with child is really the only excuse to wed when it is so cold and wretched outside. I will not be persuaded to wait until Spring…” Gilda realized she would have to answer him, if only to get him to stop babbling.

“Yes.” She said turning to face him. He stopped speaking mid-sentence.

“Yes? To my question? You will marry me?” He asked.

“I would be honored, Sir, to be your wife.” She said as tactfully as possible. He chortled like a school boy.

“My dear girl! You have made me so very happy.” He leaned in expectantly. “There can be no objection then, to a kiss, to seal the agreement?” He was very eager, to taste her extraordinary lips again.

“I can honestly tell you that I cannot think of a one.” Gilda said, desperately trying to think of one. Lord Gravely grasped her face and kissed her quite firmly. His somewhat portly stomach pressed itself up against her as he continued the overly lengthy kiss, effectively trapping her against the window frame. Gilda finally realized that she would have to end this kiss if she was to home in time for supper. She extricated herself as delicately as possible.

“Please Sir, we are not alone!” She said inclining her head toward the two servants who were attempting not to appear shocked or dismayed, cowering by the door. He shook his head and reached for her again.

“My servants? I assure you that they are the very soul of discretion.” He was breathing heavily and nearly fell onto her in an effort to grasp at her. “You needn’t fear their gossip I assure you!” He said as she darted across the room. The taste of her exquisite lips had excited him beyond his expectations. He didn’t wish to be denied what he had so recently acquired.

“Please my lord!” She yelped. “If I were of noble blood it would be different! But as I am not, I must be twice as careful of my standing. A woman of known reputation in your circles might be so bold as to indulge in a kiss, but I cannot! We have had no formal announcement, and it would not do for me to appear unchaste.” She said hiding herself behind one of the tall backed chairs whilst he followed her to the other side of the room in an exaggerated pose, as though he thought she were playing a hilarious game of cat at mouse. He wrapped his arms around her waist as she twisted to free herself.

“Dear girl, do not deny yourself the pleasure of my embrace!” He said as she slipped free and ran to the other side of the little sofa in the well-furnished room. She was not trying to deny herself pleasure…she simply found none in his embrace. What had she done?

“I would not, for the world sir! I would not, if I did not fear for my reputation!” She said. He made ridiculous claw shapes out of his hands, attempted to yowl like a tomcat, and with an absurd little leap…tripped over his own eager feet and fell onto the chaise. His male servant rushed to help him up.

“Sir, please allow me to assist you to your feet, Sir.” The man said pulling his somewhat hefty Lord to his feet.

“Oh leave off Gerald.  You are embarrassing me.” He scolded his poor servant, who had been trying to ignore his Lord’s ludicrous behavior. Apparently his Lordship was embarrassed by being helped to his feet, but not by chasing a young girl about his parlor like a giant corpulent cat.

“I know what you want you naughty little girl!” He said resuming his jocular tone. Gilda very much hoped he was not going to offer her what she feared he was.

“You do?” She said, her back pressed against the wall behind a large velvet armchair. He slid an ornate little ring off his somewhat pudgy pinkie finger and offered it to her.

“A ring! A ring will reassure you of my honest intentions! Now you can stop denying yourself.” He said sliding the little gold and ruby ring onto her finger. He leaned in to kiss her once more. She was caught in the corner of a room, and she had very little chance to escape. She was terrified that she would have to endure a lengthy kiss, but as if by magic the door to the room burst open and the eldest son came in.

“Father!” He said in a tone of heavy disapproval. Gilda took the opportunity of the older man’s startled turn, to slip out of the corner and run over by the window.

“Father, I think it is high time you sent your little guest home. Don’t you?” He demanded furiously. The older Lord spun to face his son, the sky blue velvet tails on his jacket whipping about with him.

“Guest? You mean my fiancé? I really thought she might stay to dinner.” He said almost petulantly as if he were asking his son for permission. His son’s face darkened to the same color purple as his brocade shirt.

“Fiancé? Father this is too far! I’ve indulged your whims long enough.” He strode over to Gilda and gripped her by the elbow. “You, are going home. Don’t ever presume to come here again.” He said handing her arm to a pair of manservants waiting outside the door. “Don’t give the creature a carriage. She can walk home.” He said to them, as they began towing her down the hall as if she were an errant child.

“Phillip please, I must protest! That woman is my fiancé! You cannot throw her out.” Lord Gravely protested. Lord Phillip sneered at him.

“That woman is none of your concern now.” He said and strode for the door.

“Phillip you cannot do this! I am still Lord of this Estate, I will disinherit you! You will have nothing! You will be ruined!” His father shouted after him as Phillip locked him in the parlor with a satisfying click. Phillip chuckled and walked away from the door.

“You can’t disinherit me once you’re removed from power. I happen to know that the doctor is about to declare you unfit!” He shouted at the door as he walked away. He snickered to himself. The hefty sum of money he had just paid the doctor should guarantee him an accurate diagnosis of his father’s ailments. As for the pesky little girl, well, she was going to have quite the surprise party waiting for her upon her return home. As it was a few hours carriage ride, she would just be arriving home – should she even be able make it home in the dark, around midnight. Either way she would not be bothering them again.