Page 16 of Unlikable

I wake up as night falls. Well, I am woken up. Cecile comes to inform me that Father has returned from his visit to Canterbury and is expecting me at dinner, along with Mr Clifton, Felix and my brother. I am still tired. My food goes in slowly, and I don’t even catch on to what is being discussed at the table. Father must have called my name often because when I finally hear him and look up at him, he looks back at me irritably.

“Did you hear what Mr Clifton suggested?”

I nod, but I didn’t hear it.

“And do you agree with that?”

“Of course,” I reply with my silly, silly mouth. I just want to go back to bed, sleep and only wake up when the renovation to our house in Canterbury is finished and we can return. I don’t want to think about Junior R. No more running into Felix in the corridors and being reminded of our confrontational conversation. I just want to go home, where it’s safe and the big scary world is nothing more than a simple nightmare.

“Miss Prime,” Felix’s voice sounds imperative.

I look from my father to him and see that his face is on thunder.

Wait, what did I miss?

I throw Felix an “I’m sorry, but I didn’t hear what was said” look.

Felix cleared his throat. “I think it would be wise if we spent a night on this. Or two. Or three.”

“It’s a nice offer,” Mr Clifton insists. He sits opposite his son, next to my father, and puts a piece of chicken in his mouth. He does not even chew but swallows the food immediately. “Think about the future, boy.”

Felix is silent. He is clearly uncomfortable, and his whole demeanour betrays that he wants to leave the table as soon as possible. To my great relief, he looks the way I have come to know him again. The wrinkles in his forehead have disappeared. His hair has regained its full lustre. There is no sign of the drug Junior R administered to him, thank God. Somehow I hope I just had a scary dream and that we never came face to face with Junior R. That we never went to London to follow my brother.

“I think it’s a very wise decision,” my father says, but he doesn’t sound sure. He looks tired, jaded. In his head, the wrinkles are deeper than I can remember. The dark circles under his eyes tell me he has had a bad night’s sleep. What troubles him? What torments his mind that makes him look like a walking corpse?

Everett, sitting next to me, kicks my ankle under the table. It hurts, and I have to bite my cheeks to keep from uttering a cry. When I give him an angry look, he raises his eyebrows non-comprehendingly. “What are you doing?” he hisses in my direction. Too soft for the others to hear. “Are you sure about this?”

“Am I sure about what?” I hiss back.

He rolls his eyes. “You really are incredible…”

“I really think we need to have a good talk about this, Father,” Felix says in a compelling tone. “It’s an abrupt decision, and I’m not sure we’re right to—”

“It’s high time you grew up, boy,” his father abruptly interrupts him. I cringe at the tone in his voice. That’s all he says. He and Felix exchange a look that says more than I can understand.

And I don’t understand.

I don’t understand any of it.

When I return to my room after dinner, Everett overwhelms me with the news I have apparently agreed to.

“Are you completely mad?” he shouts as the door closes behind him. “You can’t stand that boy!”

And then it dawns on me what was discussed at the table. Snippets of conversations return. Words I subconsciously overheard while I was in my own world, staring at my plate of barely touched food.

“No…” I hear myself say. “Let this be a dream.”

How could I not have heard this?

“I hope for your sake that you know what you are doing because Father obviously doesn’t remember. This is such a hasty and final decision. What possesses him? This is nothing like him. He is so protective of you. He could never decide in an afternoon to…” His voice dies away.

“You have to help me, Everett.” I walk over to him and grab him by his collar. I tug at him as if he is the only thing holding me up. “I don’t want this!”

My brother looks at me with pity in his eyes, and somehow I find that worse than anger. “Maybe things will look better tomorrow.” He puts his hands over mine but makes no effort to push me away from him. Instead, he clasps my fingers. “Mr Clifton and Father are obviously tired from the journey. Perhaps it was just discussed in a fit of excitement, and they will revisit their decision tomorrow.”

I can’t say anything. I can only stare at our fingers.

“Eleonora?” Everett asks, as if wondering if I could still stand on my own two feet if he were to let go of me.

“You have to stop this,” I whisper. “You have to help me.”

Everett sighs, pulling me against him and resting his hand on my crown. His other hand strokes my back. “Even if I tried, it won’t make any difference. I have no say in any of this. This is life, sister dear. These things are decided for us, not by us.”

And I know he is right.

· · ·

The next morning, my violin feels cold and distant as I rest it on my shoulder and against my throat to play. It has been a day since Junior R was hot on our heels and I agreed to an engagement in a fit of inattention.

With a trembling hand, I take the bow and place it on the instrument. I play, but the sound is shrill and sounds more like screeching than music. I reposition the bow, and this time it sounds a little better. However, it feels like the instrument no longer belongs to me. As if it knows I made a big mistake and wants to punish me.

After a while, I give up, put the violin back in its case and walk to the window. It is so early that it is still dark outside.

I lie back on the bed and place my hands on my stomach. I close my eyes, forcing myself to fall asleep.

Sleep, Eleonora. Sleep and dream for a long, very long time. Maybe you won’t wake up again. Then you won’t have to marry…

I open my eyes wide and get up a little too quickly, grabbing at the pillar of the bed to keep from falling.

Get a grip, Eleonora. Are you completely out of your mind? You are not going to give up now, not now that you have narrowly escaped death. If you can escape Junior R, then so can you escape this marriage.

But do you want to?

I startle at my own thoughts and give myself a mental, corrective tap to the head. Don’t be silly, Eleonora. You can’t stand the man. Of course you don’t want this.

I dress myself. My corset is way too loose. That’s what you get when you depend on a lady’s maid to dress yourself. I slip into my slippers, wrap a cloak around me and run a brush through my hair, which I let hang loose over my back. It fluffs a little at my forehead. With a bit of spit, I try to smooth it out. In vain.

In the mirror, a pair of eyes stares back at me. They look determined. I talk myself into some courage and nod at my reflection. Then I turn myself away from the mirror and leave the room.

· · ·

I did not expect my father to be awake so early. When I arrive at his room door, it is open. A chambermaid is busy making his bed.

“Miss Prime,” she says, nodding at me briefly. “Good morning.”

“Good morning. Where is my father?”

“Mr Prime has just left for a walk.”

Above my father’s bed, a clock indicates that it is a quarter past five in the morning. Heavens, I didn’t know it was that early. Meanwhile, the chambermaid quietly continues making the bed. I peek past her to inspect the room. As far as I can see, it is bare. My father’s suitcase lies open, unpacked. As if he never had it unpacked, ready to return home at any moment. His clothes lie tightly folded on top of each other. His shoes are neatly sorted against the wall.

“Any idea where he went?”

She shakes her head. “He walked out of the corridor. That’s all I know.” She pulls at the sheet to get the creases out. “He didn’t want breakfast. Not yet at least.”

“Thank you,” I say quickly when I realise that my search leads to a dead end.

In the corridor, I hear doors opening and closing. Chambermaids and servants are waking up to start their working day. One chambermaid yawns and immediately gets a corrective tap on the back of her head from another to warn her. To warn her about me. I pretend I didn’t see anything. It’s a nasty feeling, the realisation that others are afraid of you. Afraid of being caught for something that is actually quite normal.

Eventually, I find my father in the garden. He is sitting on a bench by the second fountain in the row of three. He stands up when he sees me approaching.

“Eleonora,” he says in greeting. If he is surprised to see me awake so early, he doesn’t show it. “Good morning.”

My father looks like he has been run over by a carriage.

“Good morning,” I say back hoarsely, suddenly afraid of his possible reaction to what I want to tell him.

“She would have loved this,” Father says, and I hear his voice skip. He clears his throat and then points ahead, to the beautiful fountain where the water is pushed out by the hands of angels.

I stiffen when I realise he is talking about my mother. That’s not usually a good sign. “Father…”

“Maybe I should have built such a fountain for her too,” he continues as if I am not there and he is thinking out loud. “The fountain we have in Canterbury didn’t do her justice.”

“Mother was content with what she had.” I walk closer to him, and as I stand next to him, I comfortingly put my hand on his shoulder. It hurts to see him so vulnerable, so sad. “You know that, right?”

He is silent and does not look at me. His eyes start to get moist.

I have to say it. Maybe this is not the right time, but if I don’t do it now then…

“My visit to Canterbury reminded me that I did not give her enough. I took it for granted that she was mine. She deserved more…so much more.” He shakes his head. “Theodor showed me how much damage there is to the house. He’s not sure I can afford it. According to his calculations, we may well have to sell it.”

“The house?” I bring out in surprise. “That’s not possible, Father. I don’t understand——”

“From the outside, there is nothing to see. I understand your confusion.” Father fleetingly wipes a tear from his cheek. “But the study doesn’t lie. Calculations have been made, and if we do nothing about the foundation, it will collapse. Theodor is determined to help us, but it costs an awful lot of money.”

“Perhaps then it would be wise not to invest money in a marriage.”

“It gives me enormous comfort that you have agreed to marry Felix Clifton. We need his father’s money and support to keep your mother’s house standing.”

My world is collapsing.

Father finally turns to me and smiles at me. A genuine and heartfelt smile. Relief appears on his face and seems to repress his tears. “It means everything to me. I’m sure your mother will be proud of you. You are helping the family, Eleonora. You couldn’t have made me a prouder father.” He laughs out loud. “If there had been a suitable candidate for your brother, he would be the saviour of the family, but he can’t have everything. The second child deserves equal happiness, don’t you think?”

It feels like I have swallowed a chunk of the fountain and it is very slowly making its way down my oesophagus, towards my stomach, where it remains heavy and mocking.

Father turns back to the fountain, smiling, and pats me sweetly on the back. “You make me so proud. So incredibly proud.”

“I’m…glad, Father.”

· · ·

Felix stands in front of my room door. He leans his forehead against the doorframe. He doesn’t even look up when I come to a halt beside him. “We need to talk,” is all he says. He sounds defeated and exhausted, as if, like me, he hasn’t slept a wink.

I feel a surge of anger bubble up inside me as I look at him. Why does it have to be him? Why, of all people, does Felix Clifton have to be my husband?

“May I come in?” he asks. Without waiting for my answer, he opens the door and walks into my room.

“What if I said ‘no’?” I bark and walk after him into the room. I slam the door behind me with a bang. I don’t care that it is still so early in the morning and people are probably still asleep.

“You wouldn’t.” He clicks his tongue. “After all, you are far too curious.”

My chest rises and falls wildly as I continue to follow him with my eyes. Felix walks over to my violin case, which lies open next to the cabinet. He looks at it and then turns to me. His eyes bore into mine, and I stiffen. Without wanting to, I feel my heart skip a beat. This boy…no, this man…he literally takes my breath away, with those pupils so dark and resting so piercingly on me.

“You play the violin,” he then says, but it’s not really a question.

I can only nod. I do my best to cross my arms as casually as possible, as if his presence has no effect on me.

Why are you behaving like this, Eleonora? Come on.

“Then you can delight me with music during our wedding night.” The way he says it…It doesn’t sound like a joke or excuse to provoke a discussion. However, that does not take away from the fact that the remark is, at best, inappropriate.

“You don’t really think that—”

“I think we should do it,” Felix interrupts me. Like me, he crosses his arms, the expression on his face deadly serious. “The marriage.”

His words take time to penetrate. “I…” I shake my head. “We can think of something. I know you don’t like it any more than I do.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking,” he responds immediately. He takes a few steps forward in my direction and comes to a halt right in front of me. So close that I can feel his breaths on my skin. I can almost count the hairs on his full eyebrows. “It’s a solid plan. My father will stop trying to marry me off. Never again will I have to look for excuses to get out of appointments with potential suitors. If I marry you, your father can keep the house.”

I take a step backwards. “How do you know that…”

“That your family is on the verge of bankruptcy?”

“Yes,” I swallow. “That.”

He grins briefly, but the grin quickly disappears when he sees my sad expression. At least, I feel my face fall. “That’s not exactly a secret since our fathers are good friends and I basically study the architecture of your home. I get things from time to time.”

“Right.” It is embarrassing that he knows about our financial condition. I didn’t even know myself until recently. The idea that Felix might be looking down on us, looking down on me, feels totally uncomfortable.

“Miss Prime,” he continues, narrowing the distance again by taking a step forward. “Our conversation in London, about going out into the wide world, pursuing your father’s rules and expectations, do you remember?”

That conversation had started so nicely but had ended in pain and confrontation. “Of course I remember.” My words do not come across as light-hearted as I had hoped. There is a tremor in my voice, shame shining through. The fact that I can smell his body heat and perfume—a mixture of fresh bath water, pepper and cedar—doesn’t exactly help keep my voice calm either.

“If you marry me, I can give you that, that which you so long for. Travelling, discovering new things, seeing the world. You can take whoever you want. Your brother, Cecile…”

A dark sense of longing creeps up on me. I find myself on slippery ice. His words break down my wall brick by brick. He knows my weaknesses, and I hate myself for secretly being very curious about what lies hidden behind my walls, whether that desire is really waiting on the other side.

“What do you have against marriage?” I ask quickly, before my defences are completely broken down. I straighten my shoulders, lift my chin in the air and do my best to come across as if his words have no effect on me at all. “You can’t stand me. You even imposed rules on me. Rules to stay as far away from you as possible.”

Felix remains silent for a moment. Then he tilts his head slightly and looks at me from under his eyelashes. “I’ve come to the realisation that we actually fit together incredibly well,” is finally his reply. “More than I could have imagined when I first met you.”

“I don’t understand.” And that’s true. This turnaround comes totally out of nowhere.

“You just said it yourself. I can’t stand you; I think that’s mutual.” He waits for me to say something back, but when I don’t, he says, “You have spent years locked in a bubble of nobility, of self-control and poise. I am expected to keep myself cool and faithful. Believe me, those appointments with potential suitors produce a lot of pressure and frustration. When we marry, Miss Prime, we will no longer be accountable to our fathers. In their eyes, we are the perfect couple, and because we have no feelings for each other, we can live our lives the way we want. We can go wherever we wish, with occasional trips together to gatherings and parties here and there, but we take that for granted. We will never be jealous of each other because feelings do not get in the way. In the process, we are freed from social pressure and help each other’s families.”

I laugh out loud. Not because I find it funny, but because I am so amazed that he is seriously considering this. That he finds these arguments reasonable, and I catch myself starting to find his offer more attractive with every word that comes out of his mouth.

Felix also smiles, but he comes across as somewhat nervous, as if he himself cannot believe he is trying to convince me to marry him. “Chickens can’t fly, you said? They flutter.”

I stop laughing and look at him uncomprehendingly. “What do chickens have to do with…”

“You are the chicken, Miss Prime, with all due respect.” He puts his hands in his trouser pockets and gives me a half smile. “At the moment, all you can do is flutter. If you marry me, the string will go from your neck and you will be able to fly. Prove nature wrong.”

“Mr Clifton,” I sigh. His odd puns are gradually giving me a headache.

And then Felix pulls something out of his pocket. A small box with red velvet lining. It has a few stains, as if it is very old. “This was my great-grandmother’s ring. Passed down from generation to generation.” He flips open the box, and a beautiful gold-encrusted ring emerges. The modest diamond glistens in the first rays of sunlight of the day that begin to shine into the room through the window. Felix kneels on the floor in front of me. He looks at my hand dubiously. Something on his face betrays that he is still at odds with himself over this plan, but he quickly disguises that by asking, “Miss Eleonora Prime, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife and making me the freest man on earth?”