1755, England.
Althea awoke screaming from the gruesome nightmare that had haunted her for the last fortnight. Her lady's maid, Cynthia, shot to her side from across the still moving carriage.
"Ma'lady, please settle, t'was only a nightmare," she spoke warily, having been awoken from her own, likely more peaceful, slumber.
Althea clutched her lady's arm tightly and sat up, panting. Her throat was dry and rubbed rawly as it bobbed with each laboured breath. She reached for the closed curtain and yanked it open, letting the cool night kissed air into the rumbling carriage.
They had been travelling for nearly three days from her fathers estate in Manchester to her distant, widowed aunt in London, whom she was supposed to stay with. Althea had never met this aunt. Apparently, though, she had married a wealthy merchant from France and they'd settled in London. When he became ill and eventually expired, her Aunt Harriet had received all of his various estates and riches.
The cool air that blew in from the window, made quick work of the tendrils of sweat that had formed from her nightmare.
"Drink ma'lady, you must be parched," Cynthia was now holding a small canteen near Althea's mouth. She had been so dazed she didn't even hear her lady reach for the bottle.
Althea smiled graciously.
"Thank you."
She took a long drink, filling her cracked, dry mouth with the cool liquid.
It had been weeks now since she had slept even somewhat normally. She could hardly bear to think about what had occurred the night of summer solstice, that which now occupied her mind while she slept and, unfortunately, in her waking hours as well.
Althea's father was a magistrate, and in his daily life he spent his time divided between enforcing resistance against the Scottish Jacobites, and ensuring the townspeople obeyed the laws set by the throne, and paid their taxes. But when the sun grew low in the sky, and those duties were set aside for the evening, her father became a much more lively sort. Over the years she had come to realise that he had a special taste for the bizarre, and would flaunt that taste at every season's solstice party, which he threw at their Manchester estate.
From live caged tigers, to hired naked Indian dancers, to the world’s most outlandish forms of entertainment, her father had nearly done it all. And people came from not only their own town, but even from bigger cities, such as London, to attend these events.
This season was no different. Her father spent months planning out the details for this year's summer solstice revel. There were tables upon tables of food imported from all corners of the world, and as always, he wanted to add something nobody had seen before. He had sailed in a group of over fifty males from a remote region of the world, to do a traditional war dance for all of those in attendance. The dance was meant to be intimidating towards their enemies and consisted of grunts and jab-like movements. She’d always admired the different cultural rituals and dances that were performed at her fathers parties. And this was no different, she’d watched in awe of the men as they executed each calculated movement. Yet, her memory of the night would forever be tarnished by the events that followed.
That night as the celebration continued, Althea had only eaten a bit, before she became tired and retired to her room for the night. The pounding drums and grunts from the courtyard had made it difficult for her to sleep, even with the windows closed. But eventually her restless mind silenced, and she fell into a deep slumber. She was only awoken when a thud and a clash from the hallway caused her to jolt awake. It had taken her a moment before she could register her surroundings. A dark silhouette of a large male barged through the doorway of her chamber, the candlelight from behind illuminating his towering form. She blinked and noticed the painted markings on his chest and face, one of the warrior dancers, she realised. Perhaps he was in search of a powder room… or perhaps he was seeking one of the ladies of the night who she knew her father employed during these events.
His eyes were glassy, and Althea could smell the liquor on him from across the room. The male took in her appearance as she laid upright in only her white, cotton nightgown. A breath escaped his lips and he took a step forward. Althea pulled the duvet to cover her chest, her heart beating rapidly under her trembling hand as fear ignited within her.
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken sir.” The words came out in a tremor as turmoil roiled in her gut. He did not speak English, and yet she spoke to him as if he would understand her. “I am the lady of the house.”
She shifted, aiming to move across the bed, but he was already beside her, leaning over her, so large in the now small space of her room. The man’s black curly hair brushed over her arm and she let out a scream as she made to throw herself from the bed. She hadn’t been swift enough though, for he quickly covered her mouth and ripped the blankets from her small, fragile, body. She lay completely bared to him, nothing separating them but that too-thin cotton nightdress, which had now ridden up her thighs.
She wanted to thrash, but no matter how her mind screamed, she remained wholly still, as if she were paralysed. She watched his eyes darken, scanning down the full length of her body, as if thinking of which part of her he would like to take first. She couldn't move. She was petrified. It had felt as if her limbs had turned to stone.
He lifted a leg to straddle her, pinning her to the bed, one hand still covering her mouth. Silent tears fell down her cheeks and onto his calloused fingers, he only squeezed harder, to the point that she thought her jaw would snap beneath the pressure. She knew if she did not at least try, she had no chance of getting away from him. He looked down momentarily as he began taking off his skirt-like bottoms, the only clothing he had on. She used that distraction to her advantage. Althea still couldn’t feel her arms, or her legs or her feet… but she moved her mouth ever so slightly, her lips parting to taste the essence of salty tears and his skin. She wasted no time thinking. Althea bit down as hard as she could on his hand, causing him to yowl out in pain.
She let out a shrill scream, one louder than any noise she'd ever made in her entire life, an attempt to alert anyone to what was happening within these walls. She scooted, trying to get out from under him. Althea barely made it an inch before his large hands were gripping her petite frame and pinning her down to the bed once more. When he’d adjusted his grip enough, he brought one hand up above himself and plunged it down, striking her in the face. Agony lanced through her at the impact, and his hand was over her mouth once more, muffling her pained scream. She attempted to thrash, tried to kick and wiggle out from beneath him… her fists beat into his back, his ribs, his head, but it was like hitting stone. He was enormous compared to her, and vastly stronger. He took both wrists in a massive palm and pinned them above her.
His hot gasping breath caressed her face, the scent of stale liquor invading her senses as she grew very still. Her body ached, and heat throbbed on her skin where he’d struck her. He’d managed to remove his bottoms now. Althea closed her eyes, attempting to go anywhere but here. She didn't want to be completely conscious, for what was about to happen, so she began dissociating, letting her mind venture out of her limp body. Rough hands had gripped her thighs spreading them apart, but she barely registered the harsh touch as she slowly drifted away.
"Althea?" A familiar voice beckoned from across the room. Her eyes shot open once more and the man's grip on her wrists loosened. He turned and quickly got up from the bed, snatching the scrap of his clothing with him, attempting to conceal his manhood beneath it. She sat up and observed her father now standing in the doorway, a pained expression contorting his features.
When he took a step into the room, the man spoke in a language she could not understand, his tone full of agitation. Then he grunted and swept out of the room quickly, leaving her panting and shaking with tears still wetting her face.
"Oh father," she’d sobbed, attempting to sit up. Her body had rang out in pain from all the lashing and fighting she'd done. She wasn’t even thinking of how easily her father had let the man leave… she only wanted to be held by familiar arms, to feel safe knowing her father was here now and that monster was gone. So she used what little energy remained within her to go to him.
As she was about to embrace him, he stopped her.
"Oh my dear Althea, what have you done?" he had asked her, scanning her flushed body, already starting to bruise in the places the man's rough hands had held her too tightly. Etched confusion was within the lines of her face.
She shook her head, unsure of what her father was implying. He must have noticed the puzzled expression she wore because he continued, "you have been ruined Althea. No man will ever take you now." She just stared at him blankly, as her mind repeated each word he spoke to her, slowly, as if that would somehow make their meaning change. The utter lack of care… of sympathy or empathy… she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
The look of disgust shown on his face was too much for her. Her insides twisted and she felt as though she would be ill right there on the floor. What did he mean ruined? The man hadn't actually soiled her virtue. And even if he had… it wouldn’t have been because she’d wanted him to.
"No father, don’t you understand? He barged into my room! I was asleep… he,” her voice trembled as she spoke, threatening to break beneath what little vigour she had left, “he was going to… but he didn’t, you got here before he could… you saved me father. " Her words came out rushed and fumbled as she’d fought to hold back more tears. Her head had ached and she’d been exhausted by that point.
Her father just shook his head.
"No matter Althea, you have been found with a man in your bed, there is no hope for you now, I will send Cynthia in to get you cleaned up and we shall figure out what to do about this... mess, tomorrow."
Althea's fathers way of solving the problem had been to send her off far away in hopes that she could make a new name for herself, one that was not ‘soiled’ as he’d reminded her time and time again over the last fortnight. He’d acted as if what had happened no longer made her human… as if being ruined in the eyes of society, meant he would no longer love her. Perhaps that was exactly what it meant… maybe her entire life, she’d been letting herself live within a fantasy, and now that it had been broken, she could see things the way they truly were.
That night after she’d denied the assistance of her lady’s maid, in helping her wash, she had silently sobbed. She’d taken the rough stone she typically used for cleaning her feet, and rubbed at every inch of her body, until it nearly bled and burned. As if removing the layer of skin that he had defiled with his touch, would make her better somehow. It didn’t. And when her bath was finished, she remained in the tub until the water went frigid around her and her skin was wrinkled. She had no motivation for movement, or for thoughts or emotions anymore. Each day felt like it was a mirror of the one before. Each conversation, every matter went by in a blur around her, as if she were a ghost, living beside strangers. And each night since, her mind had been haunted with the memories of what had occurred and what had almost happened to her.
Now, as the carriage made its last stretch to her aunt's manor, she found herself longing for the times catching butterflies and grasshoppers with her governess Pricilla. When everything was simple and rudimentary. She even longed for the seemingly endless reading and writing lessons her father had forced her to take. Now she was glad she had taken them, as reading was one of the few escapes she had from this dark twisted reality in which she lived.
The sun slowly crept over the horizon to the East, unveiling a bright mix of orange and pink hues in the sky. As the sun rose higher, the shimmering light hit her face, warming it gently. She let it. In fact, she invited the much needed warmth on her cold, clammy skin. Though the bruise had faded now, she could still feel the place where the man had struck her cheek.
Only a few short hours separated her from the new beginning she was still convincing herself was best. It terrified her… leaving her home. Althea had never been outside of Manchester, and although she doubted London would be such a far leap different, it still made her tremble to think about it. That, coupled with the fact that she barely had any female influence in her life, considering her mother had died birthing her. Sure she had a nursemaid and a governess, but no one who was directly related to her, such as her fathers elder sister who she was now to live with. She wondered what her Aunt Harriet would be like. Was she lonely after her husband's passing? Did she know why Althea was going to stay with her? That she had been ‘ruined’. Althea hated that word. Especially when it was hardly true. And even if it had been, why should she be punished for something she neither wanted nor sought out? These were the thoughts that had consumed her mind in the wake of that awful night.
...
It was mid afternoon when the carriage finally came to a halt in front of a large, iron, gate. Althea had barely been able to keep her head inside of the carriage window as they entered the large city streets. The scent of coal had greeted her first, and as she peered beyond her carriage window she could see clouds of smoke billowing from high buildings flanking either side of the narrow bustling streets. Other, larger carriages passed them by, with grand emblems on their sides, pulled by pure white clydesdale horses. She couldn't contain her awe as she took in this new scenery. Everything was so big, so grand, compared to the likes of Manchester. From the enormous domed roof and pointed spires of St. Paul’s Cathedral, to the formidable and rather imposing grandeurs of the Tower of London, each new scene dazzled her. She’d not been born into a life of squalor by any means, but after taking in this city in all of its splendour, she was beginning to feel as if she had been drastically deprived of some experiences.
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Even the smells took her by surprise as they passed dozens of fresh meat and fruit stands. Though, for every delightful scent, there was an equally abhorrent one moments later. It was like nothing she had experienced before, this place. They sat still now, in front of what she assumed was her aunt's manor. It was nearly twice the size of her fathers, with a set of large, white steps leading up to its entrance.
The estate in its entirety seemed to be made from white stone that resembled marble, with large pillars gracing the tall open porch in front of the elegantly carved double doors.
The black, iron gates were pulled open by two young boys, no older than seven, before the carriage sprang forward again and they were approaching her aunt's home… her home as well now, she supposed. A moment later, when they’d stopped again, the carriage door opened swiftly to reveal a curt footman in a white wig and red velvet clothes. Fear crept up within her as she again looked to that massive estate. A new home, new responsibilities, and new challenges awaited her. A new life. Some may be excited for such changes… but something inside of Althea roiled as she gazed at the cold, stone building. She had enjoyed her life… she hadn’t minded never leaving Manchester… She had been free to spend her days as she wished, while other young women her age were forced to marry.
"Madam Lezant of Braddock Manchester, may I welcome you to the Sancteed Manor," he declared boldly, offering his hand for Althea to take. She did so, swallowing down those thoughts that riddled her mind, and stepped out of the carriage and onto the stone ground beneath. Her golden skirts swayed with the movement.
Cynthia's heels clicked the solid ground behind her, signalling her to move. Althea did, still both marvelled by the wondrous manor just beyond, and plagued with terror of what was to come.
She fell into step behind the footman, Cynthia at her side. Althea's skirts began feeling heavy as they walked up several steps to the large arched doors. When they did finally make it, she felt her head already growing dizzy. Her corset was too tight, she felt, but Cynthia had insisted it would make her more presentable to her aunt, when she’d dressed in the carriage this morning.
Massive doors opened before her to reveal a grand foyer. An enormous, sparkling crystal chandelier hung far above, and matching candle sconces lined the walls, beneath which laid a wide, chequered marble floor. There was a broad curved staircase with an iron bannister stretching the length of the upstairs, serving as the centrepiece of the room. The bannister was decorated with garlands of yellow summer blooms and juniper branches with bright blue berries scattered throughout.
Althea’s stiff back cried out in pain as they scaled the steps, and she wondered if she looked as tired as she felt. Her dark curls stuck to the back of her neck. The day had only gotten warmer as the morning progressed to afternoon, even with the estate being carved of marble, it was still insufferable the higher they went.
The footman swung dark mahogany doors open, sending a much needed breeze towards the two women. Beads of perspiration formed above Cynthia’s brow, and on her upper lip and Althea knew, she too, was struggling to keep her breathing steady.
"Lady Tringlton, may I present, Madam Lezant, of Braddock, Manchester." He nodded for Althea to walk in. She did as instructed, still struggling to steady her breathing from the trek in all those layers of thick fabric. This room was much cooler, as the windows were graciously open to let the breeze in from outside. The sitting room itself was grand and large, thanks in part to the high, coffered ceiling. The furniture was all a shade of cream white and tufted, and bouquets of floral arrangements, ranging from tulips to peonies, were set out on nearly every table and mantle. Above the unlit hearth, hung a massive portrait of who she presumed to be her aunt and her late husband.
Her thoughts were confirmed a second later, when her eyes finally settled upon the woman standing near the window. Her aunt Harriet. She was a stout, round woman… fine lines of age settling around her mouth and eyes. Either the artist had done her a great deal of justice, or perhaps the portrait was not a very recent one. The woman stood before her now, wearing a tall white wig that gave her an extra foot of height. Thick maroon, velvet skirts swept out, nearly two feet around the perimeter of her. A tight fitted, low cut neckline laced with gold embellishments, flowed into the bodice and skirt, resembling her own decolletage.
Althea curtsied towards the woman, and it was an effort for her not to tumble to the floor. She wasn’t used to wearing such grand gowns with bone corsets pulled so tight that the grommets overlapped in the back. Her father had never felt inclined to make her dress forward, unless she was to attend an event, such as the solstice revels he hosted… and even then, she’d rarely felt quite so faint and uncomfortable.
"Please sit Madam Lezant, you look positively ill." Her aunt ushered her towards the couch nearest the window and sat her down, taking a seat across from her.
Althea wasn't sure what to say, so she just blurted, "you can call me Althea."
Her aunt chuckled a bit.
"And you can call me Lady Harriet," her aunt's voice was strong and stern, unlike any of the timid servant women she had previously grown used to… the only women she’d spent any real time amongst. The woman, her aunt, focused on her, eyes sweeping from her hair, down to her pinching shoes. She was observing her, it seemed.
"Well you look fit enough, of course we'll have to work on that complexion, you look more worn than a race horse girl." Her aunt raised a brow and jiggled a small bell to her side. A pale young woman came through the door and was quickly at her aunt's side.
"Have the scullery maid begin preparing dinner now, we will dine early," she said to the woman then turned once more to Althea, "you must be starving, why don't you go get bathed and ready for dinner, we can talk more then."
Althea nodded slowly. Things were certainly much faster paced in London. Back home in Manchester, her father would have never seen guests without offering them tea and refreshment after such a long ride. It had taken her and Cynthia three full days, without stopping for more than an hour per day, to arrive here.
"Gladys will show you and your lady to your rooms." She looked up at the woman who nodded for Althea and Cynthia to follow.
...
The room which she was to be staying in was large, matching the rest of the estate in that regard. The bed held a white canopy atop it, with lace curtains similar to the ones on her own bed, at her home… well her fathers home now she supposed.
One addition to this bed chamber that Althea did rather appreciate was the large, bay window which she spent more time than she should have, staring at the people below, before her bath. All of whom hustled hurriedly amongst the carriages and occasional men on horseback.
When her bath was ready, she struggled for over ten minutes, unlacing the too tight corset and removing the stiff gold dress she had been wearing all day in the carriage. Althea had insisted she remove the layers of clothing herself, rather than allowing a servant to help. After the events of that night, she had declared to undress herself. Sometimes the slightest unexpected touch from another individual sent her into a spiralling panic. Although Althea had done her best to hide it, there were too often a time when she would need to excuse herself to gain her composure in the powder room. Though, she’d never really cared for the presence of servants during her baths anyway. When she turned thirteen and began bleeding for her first term she had demanded to bathe herself, and had done that in the years since. Cynthia never minded, and would use the time to instead prepare Althea’s bed with hot stones and pans, or bring her tea.
Once the gold fabric lay in a heap on the floor, Althea lifted a leg over the edge of the bathing tub and allowed the steaming water to surround a leg before stepping fully in. The water was hot but she had found herself enjoying it more that way as of late. Something about scalding water, made it feel like she was getting cleaner.
She sighed out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding in, looking at the scrub brush next to her on the shelf, along with all of the soaps containing various oils and herbs. She thought of how unfortunate it was that she could no longer bring herself to tolerate the smell or the taste of rosemary, as it was the oil she had been wearing that night. Or how she despised wearing a white underdress to bed. She had only been able to wear the winter under pants she normally wore during the late months of the year. Even though she knew it likely wouldn't make the slightest difference if something were to happen again, it was all she could do to console herself.
Althea worked quickly to scrub her skin and scalp with a mix of lavender and vanilla soap. Once she was finished, she laid her chin on her knees and closed her eyes, taking in the absolute silence around her. It shocked her that she was unable to hear the slightest sound from the metropolis she knew was only right outside. She was, at least, looking forward to exploring this new, great, wide city.
She only got out of the tub when the water around her began to turn colder than her body. Althea dried herself off and walked back through the doors to the other side of her bed chamber. She startled slightly at the sight of Cynthia sitting on her bed waiting for her.
"I dinna mean to startle you ma'lady. Gladys thought you'd like your own maid to dress ye." Her words were rushed, as if knowing Althea would prefer to entirely dress herself, if she could only lace the corset and fasten the regency closures on her gowns.
"Yes, I would, thank you. Could you retrieve my undergarments for me so I may slip into them in the other room?" Althea asked, voice cracking slightly.
"Of course m'lady."
Cynthia reached into one of her bags which had been brought to her bedchamber while she was in the sitting room with her aunt.
She nodded an appreciative tilt of her head to Cynthia before walking back to the other part of the room to put her undergarments on.
After being fully dressed in a light grey and silver evening gown, Althea made her way back downstairs to the dining room.
With the halls now lit by candles, the walls looked even taller, and the long corridors even more narrow and lengthy. There were many various doors, some engraved to allow visitors to know what they were. As she passed, she noticed a wider door labelled "library". Althea wondered if it had a large expanse of books. She loved reading whatever she could get her hands on nowadays and would be delighted to read something new, considering she'd run through nearly every book in her fathers collection at home. Excluding those about the systems of currency in foreign governments, those had always made her drowsy. But reading had provided her with a way to escape, and any time she could forget the thoughts that plagued her, she more than willingly took the distraction. She had always been grateful to her father for insisting she be taught to read and write. Many of the young girls she’d known as a child, even the wealthy ones, hadn’t been given such a luxury.
When they walked through a large archway, with swirls of delicately carved mahogany around it, she noticed her aunt sitting at the far end of a large rectangular table. It was what sat atop the table, however, which made Althea double take. On the surface were rows and rows of delicacies. From the large roast hog that sat in the centre of the table, to the sides of asparagus, potatoes, green beans, specialty imported cheeses, and wines. Her mouth was watering just looking at it all, not to mention the smell. Oh heavens the smell had her swallowing back the urge to leap forward and dig in, in a very unladylike way. Her father had always provided them with delicious food from around the world, but after three days in a carriage, eating mostly biscuits and non perishables, she didn't realise just how in need of a good meal she was.
A servant pulled a chair out at the other end of the table and to Althea's surprise, nodded for her to sit.
"I'm afraid it will just be the two of us tonight, you see my son Antony is away selling an estate his father owned in Paris, he will likely remain away the rest of this week and possibly some of next week as well."
Althea nodded, sitting down in the far seat across from her aunt.
"I wasn't aware you had a son," Althea said honestly, as the servant lifted the lid on her plate to reveal a mix of nearly everything currently on the table.
"Yes, the only child I had with my dearly departed husband," she smiled but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Althea didn't dare ask anything further.
Her aunt made a small prayer before they began to eat. The food tasted just as amazing as it had looked and smelled, each flavour melting together perfectly in her mouth.
"So Althea, your father writes to me that you passed your twentieth birthday last spring, and still have yet to be married. May I enquire why you have waited so long? Has your father not taken his time to ensure that you be properly courted?"
Althea swallowed down the food she had been chewing, along with the lump now forming in her throat. She could feel herself already beginning to tense. She didn't know why, for she had known these questions were bound to arise eventually, she just didn't expect it would be the first conversation they were to have.
"Uhm, no, he had allowed me to attend my first debutante ball and officially come out when I turned fifteen, and I had met a few handsome suitors there, but they either didn't have a large enough fortune for father to consider, or I found them to be incompatible with myself," Althea said honestly. Her aunt blinked at her from across the table before letting out a cackling laugh.
"Oh my darling, you mustn't be so particular, especially now that you have gone and ruined your virtue. I will ensure that you are well taken care of by a fine suitor who will allow you to bear children. I suppose I can't blame your guidance for being a bit splayed… After all, it is usually the mother who handles these things for her daughter and well…" she tipped her fork and shoved a piece of asparagus into her mouth, leaving her statement open ended. But Althea understood the point.
She felt her face heating rapidly, she hoped it wasn't visible to her aunt. Her heart strummed so strongly, she could feel and hear it pounding in her ears. Letting out a shaky breath, she nodded.
"Yes, I do suppose if my mother hadn't died birthing me, things may have happened differently." Even through her efforts, she couldn't hide the disdain in her voice.
Her aunt paused her chewing and swallowed sharply.
"My apologies dear girl, I only meant that, how could your father possibly know how to find you a proper husband, I know it is not something our mother taught him alongside me. You see, men are different from us. For them, they may take as many lovers as they please, and marry whoever they wish. Now us women on the other hand, if we wish to survive and thrive in this world, well, we can not afford to consider petty attributes such as incompatibility, we must find a man who has an abundance of assets to offer us."
Althea was unsure if she necessarily agreed with this ideology, but she nodded nonetheless.
"Tomorrow morning I will call my best seamstress to the manor and we shall get you measured for some new gowns, ones that show off more of that beautiful charm you have up top, and less of that wide midriff."
She looked down at her covered abdomen, which she hadn't bothered to lace too tightly since she knew she would be eating. It was slightly bloated now from the food in her stomach. She wanted to roll her eyes at her bold tongued aunt, but of course, she didn't dare.
...
That night as Althea laid in bed, looking at the shimmering city out her window, she thought about what was ahead of her. Who would she be marrying? Would she even have a choice in the matter? She wished she could be free like the bold, charismatic women she had read about. The women she had pretended to be in her head as they fearlessly conquered anything that stood in the way of them being who they wanted to be. Why wasn't real life like that? Why didn't she possess the power that these females did in the stories she read? The power to break free of the tight chain they kept wrapped around her soul?
Just before she fully surrendered to exhaustion, Althea imagined she was completely free. No rules on marriage, no need for riches, just her and a field of flowers, accompanied by the protagonist from her favourite book. Oh what a dream that would be.