Behind Closed Eyes

Chapter 1

Delicate trills drifted through the empty music room. Melodies arranged from fine ivory keys filled my being as they reverberated off smooth walls. It bathed my woes if only for the moment.

Lonely and contemplative.

Marriage.

Never had I imagined that I would be leaving this soon. Father had informed me of the agreement. Mother had informed me of my Wifely duties. I'm still a child. Twelve summers on this green earth. Please god don't make me do this yet.

Staring blankly at my reflection across the narrow room, familiar blue eyes pierced back into me. Mirroring the elegant dance of hands mechanically dashing about the keys as years of practice came into play. So very lonely. It will be even more lonely after today.

*****

The setting sun shone beautifully through the library window, cascading an iridescent glow onto every surface it touched. Silence rang through the room with nary a whisper. The only sounds coming from the priest as he paged through his usual sermonic scripts. It was all too surreal.

The man towering tall beside me stood as a statue, deathly silent and as still as stone. Looking straight ahead he spared not a glance to any of us as we had entered the chamber one by one. My husband. This man is to be my husband. I wonder if he knows I am still a child. Will he care when he takes me tonight?

I hear my name droned from the priest's chapped lips. Before I can take a breath, Father answers for me. I have no choice in the matter. No control, no opinion, no choice in anything. Mr. Greyson answers quietly, and we are now united.

No kiss on the lips, no peck on the cheek, just a small bow in my general direction. The only acknowledgement of my existence I've received all day. Silently I stare into cold dead eyes the color of a ghost. No enjoyment, no bleakness or hatred or anger, just a bottomless chasm of emptiness.

Loneliness and despair.

The epitome of our future.

*****

The midnight arrival to Greyson Manor was completely uneventful. As stonily as earlier, Mr. Greyson helped me alight the carriage, stiffly handing me over to a portly older lady with instructions to 'settle me in' as he dashed away through the main doors. The lady looked at me with surprise, hesitating a moment before carrying out her master's wish. Hastily she had everything managed and set out to show me to my rooms.

Married, I'm now married.

No more cold and distant Father, no more loud under-bearing Mother. Just a husband that might or might not ever talk to me, and a giant house that I need to figure out how to run efficiently. Maybe if I can focus on that, I won't feel the gut cinching loneliness that's tearing at my insides. One can hope.

It was half past twelve and I was seated before the fire. Knees tucked up to my chin, wrap tucked tightly around my trembling form. Light from the flames danced against the delicately decorated furniture behind me, all in shades of pastel purple. How I wish I actually liked purple. Mother had told me to wait for my betrothed to come to me tonight. That with all hope, I would become a mother after he finishes with me tonight and wouldn't have to suffer the indignity of it again.

The clock chimed one and still I waited. Bleary eyed, emotionally and physically exhausted I waited for that door to open. For the last shred of childhood to vanish. One more minute. Then another. I closed my eyes a moment, arms still tightly wrapped around me. Just one moment more before my husband arrives.

The next morning Ms. Molly showed me each room, describing the history behind many of the paintings and art pieces. In the afternoon we strolled the park, pointing out the various follies and alcoves that would be ideal for private contemplations, to which she expressedly pressed to never go outdoors unchaperoned. The feeling of being surrounded by people, yet still being utterly alone clung to my heals as we retired inside for dinner.

Alone.

In a large dining room with a table that can seat 30, I was the only one there. Relief and sadness warred like old friends inside me. One little twinge of longing groaned aloud in my mind. I will definitely need to find a friend somewhere if I'm to not go insane.

I spent my first evening in the library reading a light adventure novella on Taming the Wild West. Fascinating. Quiet and enthralling. So much so, that I didn't hear the knock at the door. Was scared out of my skin when the grounds keeper, Mr. Molly, had apparated in front of me with a note placed upon a small tray. Tentatively I took it, thanking the man as he elegantly bowed and left me in silence yet again.

Hesitantly I unfolded the page, glancing at the words so elegantly written on it.

Dearest Madonna, my new wife.

Circumstances have led to a miscommunication between your father and myself, upon our marriage contract. Though all else about the contract is sufficient, I have no wish to bed an infant. I was tricked into taking a child bride, and will not consummate such a contract.

You may use my home as your own, and my funds and connections as yours. I will abscond to my London Town-House on business for time unknown.

Sincerely ,Your Hoodwinked Husband,

Mr. T. Greyson

Steeling my quaking nerves, I let out a breath I didn't know I held. They had lied. No wonder the man hasn't looked at me. A tsunami of relief and surprisingly curiosity washed over me at the realization. Maybe this new husband of mine isn't a total beast if he's circumspect enough to think about leaving me a note before he deserts me. Just maybe.