The Wedding Game

‘It was bad to go off with Guy?’


That answered the question of what had happened when she had disappeared. Belle had been alone in the Dark Walks with a man. And despite what she’d hoped of him, Guy Templeton had not stepped forward to make an offer or done anything else to prove that his intentions toward her had been serious. ‘You did nothing wrong. It was my fault for encouraging you to spend so much time with him.’ She had been so sure that a proposal was imminent that she had thought there would be no harm done.

‘It was all Mr Templeton’s fault,’ Amy said, firmly, knowing it was her own fault as well. ‘And I am sure Mr Lovell would agree with me.’ He would not like it any more than she liked to think of Ben kissing Belle. ‘But you must not let it happen again.’

Belle gave her a doubtful look. ‘When we see Guy at the house party, I will ask him if we did wrong.’

Amy looked back in surprise. It sounded almost as if her sister had disagreed with her. If that was true, it was the first time in ages she had heard anything like rebellion. ‘You should not even speak to Mr Templeton,’ she said, in a firm tone. ‘And in no case should you listen, if he tells you to do something. From now on, you must let Mr Lovell make these decisions for you.’

‘But what if I do not want to do as he says?’ It was a legitimate question and one Amy had asked herself many times, when forced to follow one of the many rules that men expected women to abide by. Men were not always right. And when they were wrong, it was stupid to follow them.

But it was a very different matter when Belle was the one who wanted freedom. ‘Mr Lovell is to be your husband. It will be his duty to decide what is best for you in all things.’

‘Papa makes decisions for me,’ Belle said slowly. ‘And so do you.’

Amy nodded.

‘And now Mr Lovell will.’

Amy smiled, relieved that she was beginning to understand.

‘When do I get to decide things?’ Belle asked.

It was a question Amy had hoped that she’d never hear, for she did not have a good answer to it. ‘We all want what’s best for you,’ she began cautiously. ‘And on some things...the very important things like marriage...what is best is that you let the people who love you make the decisions.’

‘Then why does Mr Lovell get to do it?’ Belle’s smile had disappeared. Her lower lip jutted out in a pout that would have been unattractive on any other face. ‘He likes me. But that is not the same as love.’

For someone thought to be simple, her sister had an excellent grasp of the current situation. ‘He is a good man,’ Amy said, still not sure if that was true. ‘He will take good care of you.’

‘But he does not love me,’ Belle insisted. The lip that had pouted now gave a warning tremble.

‘Love is not really all that important.’ Even as she said it, she knew she did not believe it. Love was the most important thing there was. If it was not, then why did it hurt so much when one did not have it?

Belle recognised the lie as well. And for the first time in ages, she dissolved into tears. ‘Liar.’ She pointed a finger at Amy. ‘Guy says love is all that matters.’

‘And where is your precious Guy, now that you need him?’ Amy snapped, tired of hearing his name. ‘If love was so important to him, he would have been the one to offer for you. But he did not. It was a mistake to let him anywhere near you.’

‘It was not!’ Belle wiped the tears from her face with the back of her sleeve. ‘Mr Lovell is the mistake. And so are you.’ She gave a loud sniff, trying to clear her running nose. ‘He does not love me. And I do not love him. You cannot make me marry him.’ With that, she was out of her chair and running towards her room.

‘Belle!’ It took only an instant for Amy to drop her needlework to follow. But Belle had outdistanced her easily, taking the stairs two at a time. By the time Amy had gained the landing, she heard the slam of the bedroom door.

‘Belle!’ She knocked and then pounded, trying the door to find that it was locked. She gave it a futile rattle, as though wanting would be enough to make it open. She had the key in her own room. It would take only a moment or two to run down the hall and get it.

But that had never been necessary before. The door had never been locked. Nor had it been slammed. Even when it was closed, she was seldom on the wrong side of it. She had kept the room key safe and untouched, just as she’d kept Belle safe for eighteen years. And now everything was falling apart.

She knocked on the door again, harder this time. ‘Do not be a child, Belle. Let me in.’

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