It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in
possession of good fortune, must be in want of a wife. It is also a universally believed truth that
those who marry for love will be happy in their marriage. It seemed for Mrs.
Anne Carleton, neither of these truths were accurate in being universal. As she
cut her eyes across the party to her husband she pressed her lips thinly
together.
So many years ago, truly only five although it felt to be a
lifetime, she had first spied Charles at the New Year’s Party. She’d checked
her watch to hide her glances his way but he had noticed to no avail. Laughing,
kind-eyed and golden-haired to be the sort of prince out of legend and she to
be his lady love. Anne loved Charles with a deep passion and fierceness that
would frighten him if he knew, and frightened her as she did know.
He courted her for a year at the bequest of his father, and
Anne once believed, at the bequest of love. Anne had a vision before their
wedding, of a perfect life. The two would be husband and wife, together
forever; nothing could go wrong because she married him out of love.
If only Anne had noticed how Charles had grasped their best
man’s hand in the shadows, the look of sadness and resignation cast between
them. Well, now she noticed but it was too late. At their current party she saw
Charles and that same man laughing with Charles’ arm around his shoulders.
The forsaken bride felt white-hot envy, a knife of grief, burning her inside. It was too late.
The forsaken bride felt white-hot envy, a knife of grief, burning her inside. It was too late.
An annulment of the marriage would bring shame to her
family. Also, for all her anger towards him, she still loved her husband. Her
teeth were grinding together as she saw that-that other man-that usurper laughing at something Charles
had said. Anne should be sitting next to her husband, she should be the only one he had eyes for. She shouldn’t have to
bear any of this!
What part of ‘I love you’ don’t you understand? Anne thought bitterly and despairingly as she retired to the quarters they shared. She slipped into her nightgown and removed the pins from her hair to brush it with ferocity.
Anne had married for love; she wasn’t happy. Not every man was in want of a wife. Her vision of being with him forever was hers, but how worthless it was if he could never return her feelings.
Yes, she thought, laying down her brush in extreme fatigue, I have had my vision.