Zemnian Nights

Chapter Three

Renata stepped into a small alcove just off the common room, her hand pressed tightly over her roiling stomach. How could things have gone so very wrong so quickly? The kitchen was back on track as thankfully it had been more smoke than damage and there would be no lasting impact on the upcoming feast. Every spare coin they could afford to spend (as well as a few they couldn't) had been thrown at this event. It was vital to her father's reputation that Lord von Friedrich believed they were equal to him in wealth and standing.

Margareta had not been happy when the nuptials were announced at the month's dawning. She'd locked herself in her room and the passing weeks had vacillated between weeping and throwing things in a pique. Renata had hoped that by the time Lord von Friedrich arrived that Margareta would come to accept that this marriage was for the best. Once Renata had shown his entourage to their accommodations, she was anxious to go to Margareta and lay thick praises of the Lord's looks and wealth, the two things she knew mattered most to her sister.

She'd found Margareta weeping in her room again. Dramatics were not uncommon for Margareta, but her tantrums were usually short-lived and blew over quickly. To see the girl so bereaved, Renata feared this was more than the usual temper fit. The girl's famed beauty was lost in a ghostlike pallor only lit by a bright red nose and red-rimmed eyes. Tearstains ran down pale cheeks and her hair was a mess as if she'd not touched a brush in two days. She was truly pitiful.

With a sigh of sympathy faintly tinted by exasperation, she set her sister down, dampened a cloth and began dabbing at Margareta's face gingerly, making soft cooing sounds of comfort as she did so. "It cannot be that bad. I have met your intended husband and he seems a fine gentleman. Very handsome, well-dressed, he speaks well, he does not seem unkind. If you would just give yourself the allowance to consider him, perhaps you will find this arrangement is not so terrible."

"But... but.." she sobbed with a quivering pout. "But I love Thomas!"

"Thomas is..." she had bitten her tongue. Her feelings about her sister's favored suitor would only make the weeping worse. Thomas Geier was a worthless gild-painted chit of wood but all Margareta would ever see was a glittering gold piece. "Thomas is not the one for you." She would have to be kind, but firm. This alliance was vital. "Father would not have said no to his suit if he thought Thomas was a good match."

"To the Abyss with Father! I have made my choice. I will have Thomas or no one at all."

"Marg..." Renata began

"I'm carrying his child." She said with a frighteningly calm voice.

Renata felt as if the air had been pulled from the room. She swayed and grabbed hold of the bedpost as panic threatened to overwhelm her. To find his bride was not a virgin on the wedding night was dangerous enough, but to already be cultivating another's babe? That would ruin every life it touched. "Oh, Margareta, how could you?" She sank back down on the corner of the bed, her head swimming.

"It was so romantic..." Margareta sighed at the window, her cheek resting against the stone. "He wrote me poems every day. He swore his love to me, his eternal devotion. He asked Father for my hand, but the old man said no." Bitterness tainting her tone. "He said that I was not for the likes of a mere merchant. That he had plans for me as if I don't get a say in who I choose to spend my life with!" She dabbed at her face with a handkerchief. 

"Thomas wrote to me that he was heartbroken. Begged me to meet with him at the old chapel. I know I shouldn't have..." She bowed her head. "But I had to see him one last time. I ... I swore to him that I would never love another, no matter to whom Father sold me. He kissed me. I was shocked, but it felt nice, and I kissed him back, and... one thing lead to the next and ..."