Page 45 of A Lady's Propitious Match
CHAPTER 20
The brisk wind of Hyde Park did little to dispel the cloud of tension that hung over Christopher as he guided his horse back towards home. The invigorating ride, which usually served as a balm for his restless thoughts, had done little to ease the growing turmoil within him. An unspoken premonition lingered in the air, and as he approached the familiar facade of his home, an ominous weight settled on his shoulders.
Entering the parlor, Christopher was met with a scene that mirrored the storm brewing within him. Graham was there, sat with an air of authority, a stern expression etched across his face. Their mother sat close beside Graham, trying to show a united front.
Christopher already knew that this was not going to go well for him.
He wanted to leave this room immediately, he was not ready for this conversation, but he took a seat anyway because he knew that was what was expected of him. There was no avoiding it.
“Christopher,” Graham began, his tone carrying an air of finality, “I am here to talk to you, because you do not seem to be listening to our mother. With Father no longer here, it has fallen to me to talk with you.”
Christopher stifled a snort of laughter. It was going to be incredibly difficult to keep a straight face through this. “About what?”
“I think you know by now that it is well past time you got serious about your future.”
Christopher raised an eyebrow, a sense of iciness settling in. Who was Graham to talk to him about his life? “What do you mean? I am continuing my art teaching business here, that has already been discussed, and I will not change my mind.”
Graham sighed, exchanging a meaningful glance with their mother before continuing. “You have been indulging in this... ill fated dalliance with Lady Belmont for far too long. It is time to putan end to it and focus on a respectable courtship that befits your station.”
Christopher’s heart sank, the implications of Graham’s words weaving a tapestry of dread. Leonora, no longer able to maintain her silence, spoke with a commanding tone. “I agree, as you know, and because of that I have informed the Devereux family that you will not be taking Lady Belmont on any more outings. That you will instead focus your attentions on Miss Henrietta.”
Christopher’s mind raced, grappling with the sudden turn of events. “Cease? Mother, I have never courted Miss Henrietta. Why would I abruptly cease seeing Lady Belmont after one mere outing to the theater?”
Leonora’s gaze hardened, her disapproval palpable. “An outing that has caused a scandal in the sheets. Everyone is talking about it, and passing their own judgements. Our family does not need that. It is time that you consider your responsibilities, Christopher. Miss Henrietta is an appropriate match, one that will secure our family’s standing. You will formally court her, and I have already made the necessary arrangements. I do not want you to argue with me. I have tried to leave you to make your own choices, but you have failed. It is time for me and your brother to intervene now.”
The parlor walls seemed to close in on Christopher as the weight of his family’s expectations settled over him like a suffocating shroud. The air, once filled with the scent of freedom after his exhilarating ride, now reeked of stifling tradition and the suffocating grip of societal norms. The echo of Graham’s declaration and Leonora’s directive reverberated in his mind, igniting a fire storm of emotions that had long smoldered beneath the surface.
Anger, raw and unbridled, surged within Christopher, a torrential force threatening to consume the carefully constructed facades of familial duty. His thoughts, like a tempest, swirled around the memories of his last painful argument with his late father — the bitter clash over his artistic pursuits, the unyielding resistance to his passions.
The image of his father’s disapproving gaze, the same gaze that now seemed to linger in Graham’s stern expression, fueled the flames of resentment that had long simmered beneath the surface. Christopher’s jaw clenched, and the weight of a life time of expectations bore down on him.
In the midst of this tempest, Clara’s face emerged in his mind. Her free spirit, the belief she held in his artistic pursuits, the way her eyes sparkled with understanding — it had become a beacon of change in his life. The encounter at the theater, the stolen glances and shared laughter, had ignited something in Christopher’s soul, a transformation that stirred his perspectives and unraveled the shackles that bound him.
“No more,” Christopher whispered to himself, a quiet vow that echoed through the caverns of his soul. The realization struck him with a force akin to revelation — he would no longer tolerate being told how to live. Clara’s influence, the courage she unknowingly instilled in him, became a catalyst for rebellion against the predetermined path his family sought to impose.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” his mother snapped. “No more what?”
“No more telling me what to do. I will not court Miss Henrietta when she is not the one that I want. I have always told you that is not what I want.
The air in the parlor crackled with tension as Christopher squared off against Graham, the weight of generations of family expectations bearing down on them like an oppressive force. Graham, with an air of condescension, dismissed Christopher’s refusal to court Miss Henrietta with a derisive comment.
“Christopher, you could never secure an earl’s daughter,” Graham remarked, his tone laden with disdain. “Stop making a fool of yourself. Miss Henrietta is a suitable match, one that befits our family’s standing. Be reasonable for once.”
The words, like a series of calculated blows, struck at the heart of Christopher’s defiance. The anger that had simmered beneath the surface erupted, transforming into a fierce resolve. The echoes of Graham’s words collided with the memories of hislate father’s disapproval, creating a crescendo of frustration that reverberated through Christopher’s being.
Fury burned in Christopher’s eyes as he finally, and decisively, snapped. “I am finished living according to everyone else’s expectations and orders. My father disapproved of my choices, and now both my mother and you condemn rather than support me. It is not right. No one should be forced to live like this.”
Graham, taken aback by the force of Christopher’s outburst, struggled to find words to counter. The air in the room crackled with tension as the two brothers stood locked in a battle of wills, each representing a different vision for Christopher’s future.
With a defiant gaze, Christopher turned away before his brother could think of a retort, leaving the parlor and the weight of family expectations behind. The echoes of his declaration lingered in the air, a testament to the breaking of chains that had bound him for far too long.
The seething anger propelled Christopher through the hallways of his family home, each step echoing the tumultuous storm within him. The parlor confrontation had been a breaking point, and the weight of years of familial expectations and suffocating traditions spurred him forward with a determination to break free.
Upon reaching his bedchambers, he wasted no time. His hands moved with a fierce urgency, swiftly gathering his belongings. Garments, personal mementos, and the sketches that bore witness to his artistic aspirations were carefully stowed away.
He had left once before, for his travels across Europe, but something about this felt far more final. He could not listen to his mother and brother for another second.
With his belongings packed and slung over his shoulder, Christopher descended the stair case, his steps firm and resolute. The gravity of his decision hung in the air like an unspoken proclamation.
