THE SECOND VOW

Vivienne, the mistress of the Hawthorne household, descended the staircase, and her presence sent a chill through the servants. The servants did not want to be found wanting by the lady, so they straightened themselves the moment they noticed her. She was the most feared woman in the household, though she was not a cruel woman. She was kind when her kindness was needed. But there was something about her presence that made everyone aware when she entered a room. The servants went back to what they were doing, trying their best to make sure everything was in order. One of the maids quickly fixed the arrangement of the flowers on the table, while another hurried to collect a few things that had been left out. Vivienne noticed all of it, but she said nothing. That morning, the servants were not what occupied her mind. Her daughter's marriage. The thought had been bothering her since the letter arrived the previous night. She sat down in one of the chairs and tried to calm herself. She did not even know exactly what was bothering her. Was she scared that her daughter might not find love in her marriage, or was she simply curious about how Lavinia would react when she finally heard the news? Vivienne knew her daughter well. Lavinia had always been a child who obeyed the rules. She had never been one to deliberately go against what her parents expected of her. Vivienne herself had grown up knowing that rules were meant to be followed. A young lady had duties, and marriage was one of them. She knew that very well, but knowing it did not stop her from wondering how Lavinia would feel. After all, she had once been eighteen herself. But as she sat there, she could not help but remember her own past. She remembered the day her parents had told her that she was going to be married. She had been angry. She had imagined herself marrying someone she loved, someone she had chosen for herself. She had even thought about going against her parents' wishes for the man she loved. But life had not gone the way she had imagined. Vivienne was still deep in her thoughts when she heard a familiar voice. “Mother?” She looked up. Lavinia was standing beside her. “Mother, is something wrong?” Lavinia walked over and sat beside her, placing one hand gently on her mother's arm. Vivienne looked at her daughter for a moment. She could hardly believe how quickly she had grown. It seemed only yesterday that Lavinia had been a little girl running through the halls of the household. Now she was eighteen. The birthday celebration from the previous night still felt fresh in Vivienne's mind. The house had been filled with guests, music, laughter and conversations. Lavinia had smiled throughout the evening, greeting the people who came to celebrate her. Vivienne had watched her from a distance, feeling proud of the young woman she had become. Now, that same young woman was sitting beside her, unaware that her life was about to change. Vivienne wanted to tell her what was on her mind, but she could not. The letter had been received the previous night, and it was not her place to tell Lavinia before her father did. So she kept it to herself. “It is nothing, my dear,” she said. Lavinia looked at her mother carefully. She knew something was wrong, but she did not ask again. That was one thing about Lavinia. She was more emotional than outspoken. She could notice when something was wrong, but she did not always speak about what she felt. Vivienne had always found that part of her daughter interesting. She was caring, even when she did not say much. Looking at her, Vivienne suddenly remembered how different she had been at Lavinia's age. During her own youth, the servants had often whispered about her and Draygon, one of her father's horsemen. Their relationship had never been openly spoken about, but it had been obvious enough for the servants to notice. Vivienne remembered their whispers and the looks they gave her whenever Draygon was near. She quickly pushed the memory away. There had been no such whispers about Lavinia. No young gentleman's name had ever been connected to her daughter. No secret meetings. No rumours. Nothing. Perhaps Lavinia had simply never found anyone she cared for. Or perhaps she was better at hiding her feelings than Vivienne had been. The thought made her wonder what Lavinia would think when she learned that her parents had already decided her future. The previous night had been her daughter's eighteenth birthday, and the household had been filled with distinguished guests. Ladies and gentlemen from respectable families had gathered to celebrate with them. Perhaps one of the ladies had offended her. Lavinia glanced at her mother again. “Is it because of something that happened last night?” Vivienne looked at her. “No. You need not concern yourself with it.” Lavinia nodded, though she did not seem completely convinced. She stayed beside her mother for a little while, not asking any more questions. Vivienne appreciated that about her. Lavinia knew when to leave things alone. Before either of them could say anything else, footsteps came from the staircase. Vivienne turned her head. Alistair was coming downstairs. He entered the room and exchanged the usual morning pleasantries with his wife and daughter before taking a seat. “Good morning, Father,” Lavinia said. “Good morning, my dear.” For a moment, everything seemed normal. But Vivienne knew it was not. She looked at her husband, and he gave her a small nod. Lavinia noticed the exchange. “Father?” Alistair looked at his daughter. “There is something we must discuss with you.” Lavinia sat up a little straighter. “What is it?” Alistair was quiet for a moment before he finally spoke. “You are to be married, Lavinia.” Lavinia stared at him, unable to understand what he had just said.