THE MEETING OF LIKE CREATURES 1
For a whole week, Marigold had a taste of what her life would have been if she had been born without a scar on her back. She got several hand me down dresses from her stepsister and a few of her own when her father would let her step outside for some air. She had several maids to her back and call. Three square meals with meat and fruit. Although, she still continued to take her own baths.
Of course, Marigold could read through the lines. It was all a big scheme to get Marigold acquainted with society. Not to mention the Renold house had ensured a rumor of their own making had spread through their kingdom. The eldest daughter of the Renold house was back in the country because of the will of King Eamon.
It was surprising how well people bought it. But nothing sold quite well like gossip in high society.
Time trickled by slowly for Marigold even if the passing days were filled with the right way to walk, the right way to speak, when to talk and not when to talk, how to eat -which only taught her to starve herself to please her suitor and obedience.
Having grown up in a space where you either adapted or suffered, Marigold learned what she needed to learn to be a proper wife for her suitor but it still remained at the back of her mind that she was going to ask the man a few questions and his answer would determine whether she would settle for marriage or throw her family under the carriage.
The Grimoult house had sent in a letter a day ago, saying that Layne Grimoult would come with a proposal and since Lord Birley had gotten the letter, preparations had been made.
The house had been turned upside down in the process. New rugs, fresh flowers, new dresses and a very expensive tea from Nigeria. It was all for show. A facade to paint Marigold in a favorable light.
When the appointed day arrived, Marigold was dressed in the very best of fabrics. Her hair was brushed to perfection like it was art itself and her face had been caked up to erase the existence of pores.
What followed was the grueling wait. Marigold sat in the giant living space, alongside her family like she had no other thing to do. The hours passed by and there was still no sign of Layne Grimoult.
The clock had chimed five times since the sun came out and anticipation and worry was beginning to gnaw on everyone, although, each had their own reason.
The sounds of hooves violently beating the earth and the opening of the estate's gate made it seem like something was finally happening. Marigold could barely move or breathe in the corset she had been forced to wear to look more pleasant but her stepsister, Fleta tiptoed to the windows and snuck a peek.
"Dear Adora, It is him. He is actually here."
Marigold immediately took a steadying breath with as much space as the corset allowed and composed herself. One look at her father and she knew this was it. This meeting was pivotal for the future of the Renold house.
The doors cracked open and Layne Grimoult stepped in. It was the first time Marigold had set eyes on the man that had been painted as a big bad wolf she needed to hide her identity from. He was a man of evident stature. He seemed to tower everyone, even her father. His demeanor was that of a man who was used to commanding attention and getting what he wanted.
Marigold could also not deny that he was incredibly good to look at. He knew it too, seeing as he made no effort to overdress. His hair was a mess. Although still very nice to look at and he had a sword dancing at his hips. He had power. It radiated from him but Marigold was determined not be intimidated.
His eyes were sharp, like a hawk assessing its prey. She saw intelligence there, a calculating edge that didn't escape her notice. This was a man who didn't make decisions lightly, and Marigold resolved to approach him with equal acumen.
She was the first to stand. "Lord Grimoult. It is a honor to finally meet you." She said, before bowing in all her womanly grace.
Layne acknowledged her with a polite incline of his head and walked over to offer his hand. "You must be Fleta."
Marigold took it and waited until he had planted a kiss on her hand before speaking. "Fleta is my younger sister. I am Marigold."
Layne's gaze shifted to Marigold, his eyes assessing, calculating. "Marigold," he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue. "A name as lovely as the flower it represents."
Her training in courtly manners kicked in, and she dipped into a graceful curtsy. "Thank you, Lord Grimoult. Care to have a seat?"
He answered with a cheerful smile.
Formalities aside, they settled into a carefully arranged sitting area. The tea from Nigeria, an exotic touch, was served in delicate porcelain cups and offered to Layne first. Marigold observed Layne closely, noting his every gesture and expression.
"The warm welcome is greatly appreciated given my short notice." Layne told the Lord of the house as he sipped on the brew.
"Nonsense," Lord Birley retorted. "You are already a son of this house."
"Not yet. Which is why I am here. I believe the king's word is law. But I also believe that a match can only work if we are of like minds. Before the proposal, I would like to know a little about Lady Marigold."
"That is not a pro-" Lord Birley tried to say, only to be cut off by Layne.
"Alone. I would love to talk to her alone."
A flicker of surprise passed across Lord Birley's face, quickly replaced by a composed mask. He exchanged a brief glance with Marigold before addressing Layne.
"As you wish, Lord Grimoult. You may have your audience with Lady Marigold in the garden. I trust you'll find it a serene setting for your discussion."
Layne nodded in acknowledgment, acknowledging the unspoken permission.
Lord Birley then turned to Marigold and continued. "My Marigold is an open book. I am sure things will work out great because if you ask me, she will make the perfect bride."
No one might have gotten it but Marigold got his message loud and clear. She had to be anything but an open book. She had to show Layne Grimoult that she was the perfect match for him.