Grace and Gossamer

1

Amelia

Oh, to be wed!

A gilded snare adorned in feathers and pearls. A golden prison that lures young maidens with promises of security, only to bind them to a lifetime of duties and heirs. A future filled with everything but the true desires of her heart.

Marriage is a slow death. A silent crime that extinguishes the light within a woman, chaining her to a man who may never recognize or cherish her true worth. It is the murder of a woman's freedom.

And I am to be wed this season.

The weight of expectation presses upon me, the relentless whispers of betrothal to a man I scarcely know. A stranger. A complete stranger, to whom my heart is expected to surrender, whether it finds love or not.

Lisa, my maid, pulls tightly on the corset laces, each tug squeezing the air from my lungs. With a final, decisive pull, she secures the knots, leaving me bound in the merciless embrace of whalebone and satin. She is preparing me for the first Ball of the season at the Harrington estate.

"Were you ever in love, Lisa?" I ask, watching her reflection in the mirror before me. Her pale skin is as delicate as porcelain, and her blue eyes are focused intently on the knot she fashions between her hands.

"Yes, Miss," she replies, a shy smile touching her lips.

"And how is it?" I inquire, my voice more urgent than intended. The question seems to catch her off guard, and her cheeks bloom a rosy red, the blush vivid against her fair complexion. As she helps me into my gown—a delicate creation silk with intricate lace trim that trails down the sleeves and neckline, just daring to reveal the slightest hint of cleavage—I press on.

"I—I don't know if I—" she stammers, clearly flustered, as though wanting to dismiss the subject entirely.

I turn swiftly to face her, my need for an answer as urgent as a breath. "Please, Lisa, tell me!" I implore.

"It is... magical," she begins softly, her eyes shining with a light that I have never seen before. "It's the most magical feeling one can ever experience. As though you're adrift in the world without them, and only truly found when they're near."

Her words unsettle me, striking a chord of fear deep within. To be that vulnerable, to tether one's happiness to another so completely? It seems the most terrifying thing in the world.

I have only ever loved the quiet company of paper and ink, the solace of books and the escape they offer. I pen my own stories at times, weaving words to form worlds of my own making. But love—true devotion, as she describes—it feels like a foreign realm, far more daunting than I could ever dare to imagine.

Trailing my way out of my bedchamber, I find my brothers gathered at the foot of the grand staircase. Mother and Solea, my younger sister, stand waiting on the other side. Their eyes follow me, a mix of admiration and unspoken pride in their gazes—or so I hope.

I pause for a moment, allowing them to take in my appearance: my brown locks styled in soft, loose curls cascading down my back, intertwined with delicate ribbons that match the deep emerald hue of my gown. The dress itself is a masterpiece, with a fitted bodice that cinches at the waist before flowing into a full skirt, embroidered with intricate patterns of gold thread that catch the light as I move. My hazel eyes, the same warm shade shared by all my siblings, catch the flicker of the chandelier above, reflecting a subdued yet determined light.

Victor, my eldest brother, greets me with a rare smile as he steps forward to offer his arm. Though he often wears a stoic demeanor, his affection for family shines through in moments like these. "Astonishing, dear sister," he remarks with a nod of approval.