“Lord Asher has offered to allow me a grace period of two years to pay the debt, but on one condition. He wishes to take you as his bride.”
“Me? Why? I hardly know the man,” Elise exclaimed. Lord Asher was a wealthy and powerful man who had the ear of the king and could choose any woman for his wife. Elise had neither title nor fortune, and the dowry her father had set aside for her was hardly enough to tempt a man of Asher’s wealth and position. Why would he want her?
“Lord Asher has offered to forgo the dowry,” her father added, his expression pained. “It seems he has no need for it.”
Elise slowly rose to her feet, her legs suddenly too wobbly to hold her up. She grasped the back of the chair for support as she faced her father. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“I’m sorry, Elise. I promised your mother that I would see you happy, but if Lord Asher calls in the debt, I will be ruined. Your brothers will lose their livelihood, and your sisters will have no dowry once they come of age. I can’t afford to refuse.”
“I understand,” Elise breathed. She felt faint but remained standing upright, her knuckles white on the back of the chair.
“You will be the wife of a great man. Your sons will be of noble birth, and you will be received at court. I know that Edward Asher is not your heart’s desire, but you will benefit from this union, as will your sisters. Our family will weather this crisis.”
“Yes, Father,” Elise replied woodenly. “May I go now?”
“Go on. You need some time to absorb this news.”
“When does Lord Asher wish to marry?”
“In three weeks’ time, at the New Year.”
“That soon?” Elise willed herself not to cry, but her voice sounded shaky.
“You will be ready.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. She would be ready; she had no choice. The bargain had been struck and she was the chattel that would be transferred as payment of debt—human cargo replacing material goods.
Elise didn’t bother to shut the door behind her as she fled the room. She needed time alone to sort out her tumultuous feelings and prepare a story for her sisters. Amy and Anne were only thirteen and nine, too young to understand the implications of the Celeste’s sinking. They’d lost their mother less than a year ago, and now they would lose their sister as well. To show them the depth of her despair would only make the inevitable separation more difficult for them, so Elise had to put on a brave face and make them believe that this match was of her own choosing.
Elise climbed the stairs to her room and shut the door, locking it behind her. The girls would be expecting her in the parlor, but she couldn’t bear to face them just yet. She couldn’t calmly work on her sewing when she was battling rising hysteria. In three weeks, she would be married off to a man she barely knew. Elise had met Lord Asher once when he visited her father on a matter of business. She’d seen him twice more since then, but no words had been exchanged besides a curt greeting. Lord Asher had bowed to her, his eyes never leaving her face as his lips stretched into a half-hearted smile. Elise assumed he was just being polite, although a man of his station had no obligation to be polite to the likes of her.
Elise sat in front of the cold hearth and pulled a warm shawl about her shoulders, but it did little to warm her. She closed her eyes and tried to picture herself standing next to Edward Asher in church as a vicar bound them for eternity, giving her new husband complete control over her life. Edward Asher was an imposing man, to be sure, but old enough to be her father. He has to be at least five and forty, Elise thought miserably. She shuddered and opened her eyes. The only way to accept this new reality was to focus on the positive things about her future husband. Elise was hard-pressed to find any, but she had to, so she began with his looks.
Lord Asher was of above-average height, and despite his age, he was still in good physical form. He didn’t run to fat, nor had he lost his hair. She supposed he wore a wig when at court, but when he’d come to visit her father, he wore his own hair, which was a rich brown with only a few strands of gray silvering the temples. His gray eyes were not unkind, and he did smile easily, which spoke of a good temperament. As far as Elise knew, he had no children, at least not ones still living.
Elise supposed that any girl of her station would be honored to marry a man like Lord Asher, who would pluck her from complete obscurity and elevate her practically overnight to become one of the ladies of the royal court. To be wealthy and titled and received by His Majesty Charles II was the stuff of dreams for young maidens, but that had never been Elise’s aspiration. She’d never been inside the palace, but she had seen courtiers out and about, carousing in the Strand and enjoying pleasure cruises on the river. They were like peacocks, draped in yards of exquisite fabric and lace, painted like whores, and adorned with bows, ribbons, and ridiculous curly wigs, which made even the most masculine of men look like overgrown poodles. Most people gleefully accepted the new fashions when Charles II took the throne, tired as they were of the black and gray of Puritan rule that had been the order of the day for so long. The theaters had reopened, music
