Daughter of the Rebellion

Chapter 27

Two days later, we returned to the main house and I was surprised by how everything seemed better. Nothing was strikingly different, but now that I was Richard's wife, things just settled. I was adjusting well to my new role and everyone else seemed to be as well.

The servants as a whole were better around me. Things didn't really change - I still wasn't allowed to do almost anything for myself, but they didn't seem insulted any longer that I wanted to.

I guessed that servants were generally always treated slightly better than dirt, and so Martha's reaction to my attempt to clean up after myself made sense. The only time the upper class did anything for themselves, it was because they were displeased with the servants. As a reflex, the servants were constantly nervous and, fearing dismissal, terrified of doing anything that might upset the people they worked for.

I was happy to see that our servants were learning that they wouldn't have to be that way with me.

Richard's mother was better than I expected as well. I was sure that after the wedding, she would return to hating me, but she didn't. I think it had to do with the fact that I asked her opinion on things and actually listened to her advice.

The day I returned, the servants began coming to me with menus and guest lists for dinner, as well as a hundred other things that I hadn't realized I would suddenly be in charge of. It was easy to see the hurt that flashed across my new mother-in-law's face when they passed her over and came to me for decisions, and I couldn't help feeling sympathetic.

And so, since I had no idea what I was doing anyway, and quite frankly didn't care about whether we had chicken or fish, or used the pink patterned dinner plates or the blue, I asked for her input on most things. I think she liked the fact that I didn't see her as being obsolete. She still wasn't exactly loving toward me. I honestly didn't think she had it in her for anyone but her children and Sophia, but I knew she didn't hate me. Maybe she even respected me, and I figured that was pretty close to the best I could hope for.

Later that week I became very glad that I hadn't isolated Amelia. I was informed that I was to be responsible for planning the annual Christmas party in a few weeks. I had never even planned a small informal party before, and the Christmas party was very important. It had been a tradition for the last five generations and had always been a success. More than that, it was the first real event that Richard was responsible for. With our marriage, everyone expected a shift in the planning of events and the running of the household. If I made a mistake, it would reflect badly on him. I don't know what I would have done without Amelia. Even with all of her help, the pressure on me was staggering.

Charlotte was willing enough to offer suggestions, but she thought everything was "simply divine!". She got distracted by each and every option and was apparently incapable of even deciding the things she preferred without changing her mind a minute later. Amelia, on the other hand, had planned events thousands of times, including many successful Christmas parties. I trusted her judgement when she said that certain details needed to be simple and that others needed to be seemingly over-the-top. With Charlotte, it all would have been over-the-top.

After planning out nearly every major detail, Charlotte and I went to look at fabrics, flowers, and other less important items. We could have had them brought to the house, but I wanted to get out for a change. The only times I'd ever left the property was to go visiting people I didn't know, and I didn't get to see very much of the kingdom. Maybe it was the remnant of the little girl in me, but I wanted to explore a little.

It would have been better if Charlotte and I were allowed to go alone, but Richard wouldn't hear of sending less than four very large servants - they were really more of guards - to accompany us. But they mostly stayed quiet as they followed us from shop to shop.