His Chosen, for she was First

London 1703 Jaclyn For several weeks, I have felt that something is not right within me, and I believe Gloria is already sensing something amiss. I can do nothing but fret, dreading the worst; it has been nearly two months since Nathaniel last visited me during his courtship, and my anxiety grows by the day. I know not whether to call it paranoia, but I am certain something is happening. I should not have allowed it to transpire so quickly—to open myself to him so recklessly. In my defense, I must say I never imagined we would reach such a point. Nevertheless, it was the finest thing that has ever happened to me in my eighteen years of life. With his charms, he worked his way beneath my skin, making me feel things far more intense than when I first laid eyes upon him. One thing led to another, and the fact that Gloria left us unattended for nearly three hours served us perfectly. It pained at first, but that ache was soon replaced by pleasure. My pulse quickens at the mere remembrance of our bodies joining as one, bound by the very same sentiments, rapt in pleasure and love. It was pure, divine perfection in its utmost splendor. Yet, each time my mind wanders back to that moment, a wave of guilt follows in its wake, for if my parents were to discover the truth, I would be buried beneath the earth alongside my ancestors. To the world, I remain chaste and virginal; not even my dearest friends know of it, and I deem it best that way. The subject has arisen on several occasions, but I utter not a word, fearing I might betray myself. We have been courting for several months, and I cannot help but fall deeper for him with every passing day. I love him too dearly—so much so that when we reached that point, I only begged him to continue. I forgot everything else, as always happens when I am by his side. I rise, rushing toward the washroom. I retch, emptying all that remains of breakfast from my stomach into the chamber pot. —How do you feel, Lady Jaclyn? —asks Gloria in her warm voice. Her hands hold my hair back while I rinse my mouth with the glass of water she extends to me. My eyes meet hers through the mirror; she watches me with concern. I shall not deny that even I am truly unsettled. For days now, I cannot take a single bite without my stomach refusing to digest it. —Could it be indigestion? —I whisper, turning to look her in the eye. —Perhaps. Let us prepare some tea for you; I shall brew it myself —she comments, and though at any other time I would be most enthusiastic, right now the very thought of apple tea with honey unmasks a wave of nausea. —I have no desire for it, Gloria. Her dark eyes widen slightly in astonishment. —I believe you ought to inform the Duke and Duchess —she states, but I shake my head instantly. —I do not wish to fret them; this shall pass. In a while, brew me some tea for indigestion, if you please —I request, and she nods, casting a cautious gaze upon me. —But, my lady, you have been thus for nearly a fortnight —she manifests with worry. —Do not fret, I shall be well, you will see —I encourage her, and she offers a faint smile. She departs, leaving me alone in the washroom. Shall I truly be well? I return once more to the dining room, and the aroma of food causes my stomach to turn again. I attempt to brush past under the steady gaze of my sister. Leaving the dining room, I head straight toward my favorite sanctuary in the house. I enter the library, retrieve the novel I am currently finishing, and settle into a comfortable armchair. Not a few minutes pass before Gabriella enters and takes her seat in the corresponding armchair. She is my younger sister, though she is far from looking the part. There, at a mere fifteen years of age, she already possesses the air of a grown woman. Though she is still far from making her debut in society, letters arrive daily, entreating for her hand the moment she comes of age. Gabriella is a fair, maidenly youth with eyes as blue as the heavens. Her hair, unlike mine, is curly, tumoring into beautiful natural ringlets. Her features are as delicate as though she were carved from a gemstone; her slender nose and full lips give her a breathtaking countenance. She is so extroverted that Mother is forever requiring her presence for one matter or another. My parents are the Duke and Duchess Hendricks of Axxwell House, alongside numerous other properties. They are exceedingly proud of us; just this year, I made my debut in society alongside one of my dearest friends and my cousin, Lisset. All three of us are currently being courted, and I was terribly anxious at first upon receiving the letters. I received far more than I ever anticipated, but my chest thundered violently when I held the letter from Viscount Nathaniel Beckett in my hands. I accepted his suit at once, and since then, he has visited me once a week at our manor. I could not be happier for the day to arrive when we shall truly be together as Viscount and Viscountess. And after tasting what transpires between a man and a woman, the longing burns ever deeper within me. Gabriella’s sharp clapping snaps me out of my reverie, forcing me to pay her mind. —Curse that Beckett! —My sister mutters between her teeth. —Gabi, what have I told you about such language? She rolls her eyes with vexation. —Sister, you were not even listening to me. Ever since that man arrived, you have been thus, and I miss my sister. Indeed, since entering into a courtship with Nathaniel, I have distanced myself a little from the girls, Gabriella included. I know not why, nor what excuse to offer; I simply no longer feel as close to them—not when I harbor so great a secret. —What is the matter, Gabi? She lets out a heavy sigh and fixes her sky-blue gaze upon me. —I was saying that yesterday, Melissa accepted Marcus’s suit. My sister has a foolish infatuation with that gentleman; he is a bit older than I and holds the title of Earl. I truly cannot endure him, and ever since she discovered he sent a letter of courtship to Melissa, she has been utterly incensed. —Has he? And what of it? —What of it! I have just lost my chance —she exclaims, and then bows her head. I reach out my hand and touch the crown of her head. I stroke her hair tenderly, and a sweet smile forms on her lips. —You are beautiful, Gabi. You shall see that you will secure a grand husband, far better than that wretched Marcus —I comment, and she laughs at my last words. Gloria’s hurried footsteps cause us to turn our gazes toward her as she enters the room. —My lady, a letter has arrived for you —she speaks, slightly breathless. Why such breathlessness over a mere letter? I walk to the grand entrance of the manor and find the postman retrieving it from his satchel. He hands it to me, and upon seeing the wax seal, my hands begin to tremble. It is from Nathaniel! I take the letter opener from the small table beside the vase of tulips and slice it open. As my eyes scan the words penned within, a tempest of emotions stirs inside me. My eyes begin to burn, and tears are not slow to spill from them. A sudden dizziness washes over me, stealing my balance; my legs give way beneath me, and I fall. A deep, terrifying darkness settles over me. I blink heavily, adjusting to the candlelight. Is it nightfall? I see Father’s figure in my chamber; he paces restlessly from one side to the other before the bed. Mother notices that I have awakened and touches my cheek with concern, drawing my attention toward her. She looks truly distraught. A few strands of her hair have fallen loose, owing to the way she bends over me. —Are you well, darling? —She inquires softly. —Yes —I manage to articulate—, Nathaniel. Father stops dead in his tracks upon hearing me, and his eyes lock onto mine with fury. My pulse quickens in a heartbeat. Anxiety begins to seize control of my body, forcing me to draw breath more rapidly. Do they already know I am no longer...? —Why did you do it, Jaclyn? —he roars, and I flinch instantly. Never in all my days has Father treated me thus. —Carson, she is unwell, I believe it is not wise to. Upon receiving the sharp look Father casts her way, my mother falls into a complete, absolute silence. —Silence, Stella! How in God's name could she do this to us? How the devil could you tarnish our family name so with your actions, Jaclyn? How...? —his words hang suspended in the air as, consumed by rage, he inhales sharply. I weep intensely, feeling guilty, soiled, and ungodly. I ought never to have done that! —What did I do wrong with you, for you to repay me in this manner, Jaclyn? —sobs my mother by my side, making me feel like the most wretched daughter alive. And indeed I am! I knew all that was at stake; I knew it was improper, yet I set no boundary. —I am so dreadfully sorry, I. I cannot go on, not when I cannot even offer an excuse. They have instilled virtue in me since the day I was born, and I have covered them in mire with my conduct. I degraded our surname, our title, and I degraded myself. No one shall ever look upon me the same way again. No one, for Nathaniel’s letter was a letter of rupture—of finality. I shall be the gossip of the entire ton. I feel my chest tighten, and it becomes impossible even to swallow. —What will you do now, Jaclyn? —Father demands, breaking into my hellish thoughts. I remain silent for a few seconds, still weeping, without so much as looking him in the eye. —Is there no way to conceal that I am no longer a maid? —The inquiry that escapes my lips makes me feel like the worst of liars and ingrates. But if that would keep the good name of our house untarnished, I would do anything to avoid drawing further blood from my family. Father’s ironic laughter is not slow to follow, while Mother keeps her head bowed, still sobbing quietly. —Believe me, Jaclyn, the least of our worries is that you no longer possess your virtue. The matter at hand is that you are with a child by a man who abandoned you the moment you opened your legs for him without a second thought. With...? Am I with child?