Samh
9.05.1342 10:00
Abaledina’s cousin, Eriath Gillfillian, was a
fine, generous twenty-five-year old. Nature had given him both intellect and common
sense. However, Abaledina knew he also had a strong sense of imaginative
romance, which she believed would keep him from forcing her into a loveless
marriage with him.
When he arrived, he brushed her forehead with a
chaste kiss, and Abaledina felt instinctively that the act stemmed only from
fraternal love. For an instant, the anxiety lifted from her heart, and she
moved quickly and merrily, her happiness complete.
“Your message preceded you by so short a time that
we were not quite prepared for your arrival,” his mother said, visibly excited
by the greeting they exchanged. Instantly, Abaledina’s brow saddened, and the color
faded from her face. The thought that she was pledged to him in marriage should
have brought joy and hope. Instead, it threw a cloud over her future life.
Gradually, she retired from the conversation. After an hour, she went to her private
room, telling Luna to ensure no one intruded.
She felt the loneliness of her situation intensely.
Her uncle was kind, indulgent, and fatherly, but he adored his son and regarded
their engagement as unbreakable. Approaching him about it only subjected her to
claims that nothing could be done. One could never appeal about an affair of
the heart to him because he believed romance was frivolity. He was not a
hypocrite in this: Abaledina had never seen a hint of the emotion pass between
her uncle and aunt.
Jeanilotta, playmate of her childhood and current companion,
had a thousand reasons for desiring the union, so it did no good to appeal to
her. Her aunt was deeply artful. Although she appeared on the surface smooth and
complaisant, she possessed a mean, low talent for prying into the affairs of
those around her and an insatiable desire to control their actions. Abaledina
knew she would exert every influence—good or bad—to bring about the event.
Isolated from the sympathy she wished to receive
from the two most prominent women in her life, she had only one to whom she
could appeal. Taking a slip of paper, she wrote:
Eriath, please, visit me in my private den as soon as
possible. Your company would greatly oblige me.
She rang for Luna and entrusted the note with a
command to deliver it only to Eriath. Luna was artless and ignorant of all
intrigue, but digital messages were prone to being intercepted by her aunt and
uncle. Luna received both the note and command but did not seem to pay much
attention to either.
Abaledina was slightly concerned about the maid’s
lackadaisical attitude. When excessive time passed without word on whether or
not the task had been accomplished, she worried the note never reached its intended
recipient. She finally decided to find the maid, but upon opening the door to
the hallway, she found Eriath standing there, preparing to knock. He followed
her into the room in all politeness but with a hesitating step, which again
boosted her spirits. She expected a lover to rush to his beloved rapidly.
“My mother said you wanted to see me?” he asked.
Abaledina was startled. Her maid had not been as
careful about the note as she was instructed to be. Still, there was nothing to
do about it now. She led her cousin into her private den, took her favorite
seat, and pointed to a nearby chair for him.
“May I be permitted a hug before I sit?” he asked
with a smile. At her assent, her head rested upon his shoulder, luxuriating in the
confidence and friendship between them.
“Forgive me,”
she began tearfully after he sat down. “I have no other friend to guide me. I
must confide to you something that I wish I could keep secret because I fear it
will greatly upset you. I can’t pretend to misunderstand your message and must
tell you my true feelings. For years—”
“Eriath! Eriath!” They heard Lieutenant
Gillfillian’s loud, impatient tones and quick, heavy footsteps outside the
sliding panel of the private den. Immediately, the young man jumped from his
position. Opening the panel, he met his father, who appeared greatly disturbed.
“I sincerely regret interrupting your conversation,
but I’m compelled to do so by urgent business. A message just reached me,
informing me of the probable failure of the house of Wildon, Strong, and Company,
in East Moumalt. I have considerable interest in this corporation, but I must
remain here because of other equally pressing affairs. Therefore, you must go
in my place and leave at once.”
Abaledina thought she could see Eriath’s chest
puff with pride at his father’s request.
“With my greatest pleasure, I am entirely at your
service,” her cousin replied.
“I appreciate your self-denial. I assure you that I’ll
not soon forget it. Come. We have much to discuss and little time,” Lieutenant Gillfillian
said, rushing into the hallway.
Without so much as a longing glance back, Eriath
was out the door, following Lieutenant Gillfillian.
“Explain to me the details and tell me what you
need me to do,” was the last she heard him say as he left her.
Abeladina decided perhaps it was for the best. Her
words would not have come out well. She suspected it would be better to write
out her feelings than speak openly to Eriath. She also felt a message would
give him time to adjust to the situation before he needed to respond. Most
importantly, she would not have to see the result of breaking his heart.
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