The Hoaxing Game

1

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         Be neat in your person and always speak pleasantly

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chapter one

My name was Georgiana Adkins. My father had set up an arranged marriage for me, and I, as any other woman of our day, had to go along with it. The man of my father's choosing was a wealthy man called Gabriel Bain. He was handsome, but terrible at personality. He always looked as if he was sucking on a candy. However, he was rich, and when it came to money that's all my father ever saw.

I grew up in a middle class household. My mother birthed seven children but only four made it to the present day. I have three brothers; one older and two younger. They loved to run around, break things, and tug on my braids. Meanwhile I was told to enjoy cooking and cleaning. I never learned to enjoy cooking, however. When father was at work I would sneak into his study and play his piano. That was something I enjoyed.

I was allowed to attend school, but mostly for the previously mentioned tasks such as cooking, cleaning, and sewing. They really rarely came in handy. School was traumatizing for me, all because one day the boys my age decided to spend their break time playing Knights. I would watch them from the steps of the schoolhouse, until I asked to play along with them. When they responded with 'no', I insisted they let me play, confused on why they wouldn't allow me to. After I forcefully added myself to the game, they began shoving me and kicking me out of their play area. I came home that day with bruises and my braids halfway undone. My mother asked me what I did, and I responded that I did nothing but ask to play with the boys, some of which included my brothers. But my mother only responded with, "You best stay out of their way, you ought not to play in the dirt anyway." After refusing to show any sympathy, she returned to cooking our dinner.

Younger me began to understand the way the world worked after that day. Society wanted me to clean, but I wanted to play. As I grew older my opinions barely changed. I became more accepting of the way people viewed me, because I had friends by my side that were viewed the same way and they got along fine. I almost forgot about my rebelling opinions until one summer day, when I was newly fifteen years old, my father had invited a couple of co-workers into our home for supper. It was all going smoothly. Mother and I set the table with soup and bread, then immediately began working on seconds for the starving men. As I continued to stir the soup, I overheard one of father's co-workers asking how old I was. He was a huskier man than my father, with stubble he probably refused to shave. He also seemed to be eating the most out of everyone at the table and I'm sure I had refilled his soup bowl five times already.

"She's fifteen since last week," father responded.
"Ah, she looks quite old for fifteen," the co-worker asked in a suspicious tone.
"Yes, with her looks she should be married in no time."
"She's quite a sight...how would you like it if I took her off your hands?"
"Now, now. If you make as much as me I'm going to have to say no."
"Between you and me..." the co-worker leaned in, "...the boss quite favors me." He wheezed a disgusting wheeze. I looked over my shoulder and saw my father looking at me and pondering. He turned back to his co-worker and joined in on the laughing. They were about to make a deal.
I came over to the table to set a new bowl of soup in front of the wheezing co-worker. Just as I was leaning over to do so, my father reached out his hand to shake the other man's. Panic over took my body and my hands went up to my face in a frenzy. I dropped the bowl of hot soup all over the co-workers lap. He wasn't wheezing anymore. With the shock of the hot soup on his crotch he seemed to be vocally impaired, and the only sound he could make was a muffled scream that could only be translated to the sound of an H.
My father grabbed for a towel and tried to calm him down. My jaw remained dropped and I barely processed the entire incident that had just happened. My mother looked at me with both disappointment and rage. Wasn't she going to help me? My father sharply turned his head to me and demanded I apologized.
"I...I..." I was still in shock from their conversation.
"Georgiana, apologize now!" he bellowed.
"I'm sorry," I spat the words out, lifted up my apron and ran to my room. Once I closed the door behind me, I sank to the floor. I thought of myself marrying that old and disgusting man. I would bear his children, cook his meals-I assumed he ate ten meals a day after I saw the way he ate that night. While I was thinking about what my future might be, a knock shook the door and my back along with it. I stood up and brushed off my petticoat, then opened the door. It was my father, looking more disappointed than angry, which was a relief. He came into my room and sat on my bed.
"Thank you for apologizing," he sighed.
"Father, the man wants to marry me?" I asked, getting straight to the point.
"Yes, I would have let him if you didn't make him change his mind." I stared at my father in disbelief.
"I changed his mind?" I said in a more pleasant tone than he would have liked. I joined him on the bed.
"Yes, after seeing how clumsy you acted in the kitchen he told me I could keep you." I smiled. Finally, one of my flaws came to be good use.
"Georgiana," my father continued, sounding quite depressed, "I don't think you understand how good this would have been for you. Rich men don't come around to our home and ask for your hand every day."
"But that man has the same job as you. How do you know he wasn't lying?" Father got up from my bed and sauntered to the door. "Promise me, the next wealthy man that admires you, you won't spill hot soup on his lap?" I chuckled, then seeing how serious my father looked I composed myself and brought my eyes to the floor. "Yes, father," I obediently replied. How could I have said that? Wasn't I all about freedom and my own choices? Suddenly I became aware of the world that was around me. I had to be like the other girls, and do as my role in society was. The next man that came along I would not refuse.

*

The next man that came along happened to come three years later, after I had turned eighteen in early 1773. And that man was Gabriel Bain. He was a thirty-four year old man who wore his black hair slicked back in a long ponytail and his posture resembled a peacock. I wasn't fond of him when I met him, but my father was. He introduced him to me right away as my 'fiancé'. I had almost lashed out and refused, but I remembered my promise from three years back. I wish promises had an expiration date. My father had told me that Gabriel was a decedent from a wealthy family that moved to a town near our little village. The man was here for a close friend's wedding when he ran into my father and struck up a conversation. Father had apparently mentioned me and Gabriel became interested. Not wanting to disappoint nor embarrass my father again, I was sure to be on my best behavior when I met him. We avoided hosting dinner with any soups or hot liquids, and we got along fine-rather, father and him got along fine.

And now we come to the day of several mistakes, just hours before I became Mrs. Bain. My mother and seamstress pulled at my hair and stays. I looked in the mirror, squinting and cringing at the tugging and tightening. My gown surly was something; the sleeves were pink and puffed, while the rest of the gown was white and quite slim. I wore mother's broach on my trunk just as she did in her wedding, and just as her mother did and so on. My long hair was braided into a crown around my head and a good part of it was left to flow beneath it, each strand in perfect round curls at the end. I looked beautiful, but barely recognized myself.

"Mother, do you think I'll be happy?" I asked her, my voice lacking emotion. The seamstress quit tugging at my gown and left the room, most likely to give us privacy to talk.
"What do you mean by happy?" my mother asked in return, equally emotionless. She continued to fix each loose strand of my hair.
"With Gabriel," I specified.
"Why should that matter?" she replied, "You'll have money, that should make you happy."
"Alright, let's say I have money, but Gabriel rarely speaks to me. Can money buy me love?"
"Love?" Mother quit fixing my hair and looked at my reflection. "Marriage isn't about love, Georgiana. It's about giving you respectability and social prestige." I became silent. When I heard the words from my mother, it made sense. But a part of me didn't want to believe it; it wanted to believe in love. I sat up from my stool and looked at my mother.
"Do you love father?" I asked.
"Georgiana sit down-"
"Do you love father?" My voice had more emotion this time. Mother went silent and looked at me with her eyebrows arched and her eyes sharp with discipline. I knew what I looked like; like a scared mouse hiding from a cat.

"Your father and I were an arranged marriage..." she finally replied, looking calmer, "...my life was better after marrying him but I wouldn't say I love him."
"...you don't?" I asked under my breath. Suddenly I became angry. What if I was missing opportunities? I came to a realization. "I...I don't want to do this anymore," I said. I looked my mother in the eyes.
"Georgiana, you're being ridiculous, sit down-"
"I don't want to do this anymore!" I yelled. Rage had overtaken me and I didn't know how to stop it. This was not how mother had taught me to act at all, and I knew she was thinking that too. She looked at me with a disturbed expression.
"You're always telling me what to do," I whined on, feeling the tears starting to well up in my eyes, "don't I ever have a right to say something about my own life? I can't think of one time I did!"
"Georgiana, stop raising your voice this instant. You're messing up your petticoat." She reached for my gown but I quickly recoiled back. Breaking the silence, the seamstress came back and informed us that I had five minutes before I needed to meet Gabriel at the altar. My hands began shaking. Before I knew it, I was holding my breath as I hastily walked to the altar. There I saw Gabriel, looking more peacock-like than ever, and the priest. Gabriel barely looked at me and continued to suck on his imaginary candy. I took a deep breath in and put on a dignified face. I was going to be a happy bride.