Lorelei

Prologue

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The wedding was a quiet affair, one fraught with disapproval, but beautiful. In a sad sort of way. One wouldn't have been able to tell how distraught and disturbed the families on both sides were. Not when the small church had been remade from the rundown, paint chipped building that had once only been used for funerals, as of ten hours before Mrs. Welch called upon the clergyman. The pews had been dusted, the floors shined and the carpet that rolled down the center aisle had been washed and cleaned. Even the windows had been repainted and a fresh set of lilies hung from a basket at the end of every pew.

The mother of the bride, Mrs. Annamarie Welch, had pushed the idea of marriage when it came to her attention that her daughter had become pregnant at the ripe age of sixteen. She realized the predicament of her youngest, who had unknowingly given her condition away when she denied a glass of wine in fear of it making her sick, and promptly urged the groom's family to send a gift for her daughter's hand.

And so, with barely concealed disdain, Annamarie and her two eldest daughters watched their youngest child and sibling, respectively, be led down the aisle. Unfortunately, her late father George Welch, had died two years before the unseemly marriage from a blood clot in the brain, which had been obtained when he was just a boy and had fallen off his elder brothers Arabian. It wasn't until a recent head cold, that the doctors found the anomaly of blood dripping from his nose and ear, but by then the damage was too much.

Instead, George's brother was walking Annamarie's daughter between the pews. Stanley Welch was a brisk fellow, with wheat brown hair sweeping his sagging earlobes and a mustache that traveled from his quivering lips, along his jawline and up towards his sideburns. When Annamarie had begged Stanley to shave it for the event, he easily brushed off her concern with a jolly comment about his superior mutton chops never missing a moment of such a delightful time.

By delightful, Uncle Stanley actually meant the sham that was the wedding, looming like a rain cloud over the sun. Though, he was quite fond of his youngest niece, even Stanley was a slight disappointed with his favorite goddaughter. And right angry with his soon to be nephew-in-law.

But even with these dark thoughts, Uncle Stanley was quiet proud and honored when his beloved niece asked him to walk her down the aisle. She was a timid little thing after her father's death, seeming to have all the joy and laughter sucked out of her as each furniture and portrait was wrapped in sheets, left to collect dust. The bride's family found his memories to either be too painful or cumbersome to handle and with a white sheet, they covered his memory just as the dirt had his coffin.

Lorelei Welch, soon to be Lorelei Rose, had been an outspoken young lady, who had just started to accept marriage proposals when the transgression occurred. While, the family spoke little of it, many good and hearty townspeople of Bartlett Port found the entire wedding to be in poor taste. While mere gossip, many folk found the wedding to be due to a babe. As there could be no other reason for the rushed affair.

It was not helped when Lorelei's eldest sister, Eleanor Rodson, loudly proclaimed to her middle sister, Vivian Welch, that it was a farce of a wedding. A complete farce, that she found to be highly distasteful. Especially when their dear sister couldn't keep her legs closed for even the highly respected Master of the town's son!

When it came to Eleanor Rodson, many found her to be more distasteful than the idea of a bastard being born without a title. It was also a well known, but much hidden secrete, that the Master's son was a bit of a wayward soul. Using and falling for any beautiful woman before promptly dropping them for the next beautiful lady to catch his fancy.

Many speculated Mrs. Rodson was jealous of her youngest sibling; as she believed herself to be the prettiest of the three. Eleanor was a petite young lady, with a mousey face that took entirely after her mother's and eyes the color of hazelnuts. Blonde hair adorned the top of her head, usually left to frame her face in waves, which many suitors found to be enthralling and had in fact drawn the eyes of her now husband, Richard Rodson. It of course gave the illusion of a young maiden who was not as foul as she truly was. And had only grown more bitter when the youngest of the Welch sisters had been chosen to lay with the Master's son.

Although, it was found, that when Mrs. Rodson heard the news of her sister being with child, she'd promptly leapt from her writing desk and danced about the room. Mr. Rodson had, of course, arrived in time to see this strange behavior by his wife and had no time to ask when he'd been pulled along with her. The idea of her youngest sibling being with child was laughable and had her going silly with delight.

In her jealous addled mind, Mrs. Rodson found herself just in condemning her sister. As she knew the Master's son was not so dissimilar to a harlot.

And so, it was on a beautiful fall day, the Welch and Rose family came together for a simple wedding with no fanfare, except for a small column in the daily news. The clergyman gave a simplistic speech depicting the couples love for each other and thanking the families for attending on such short notice. At the urging motions of Mrs. Annamarie Welch, the clergyman quickly finished his ceremony with the centuries old, "you may now kiss your bride."

And as any happily married husband was want to do, Mr. Rose swept his sweet and pliant bride up into his arms, and planted a long- almost indecent kiss against her rosy red lips. The applause of their families knocked some sense into the two, breaking them apart with flushed faces and happy grins adorning their faces.

~ł~

Author's Note: My second story on Wattpad, so please leave comments/like/review/share! I'll greatly appreciate feedback on this story! Thank you!!

You can also read this on Inkitt.