The Depths Of Love

The Baby

Dressed and ready for tea, Mrs Lovelace made her way towards the kitchen. There she found seven of her eight daughters, Grace obviously still in bed, eating breakfast. A chorus of 'Mama!' filled the room as the maid set another spot at the table.

Mary sat down, smirking at her daughters knowingly. The girls took note of her expression, whispering among themselves. This had been a planned action. Anything to bring excitement to the girls before her next statement.

"Mama! Mama! Please do tell us the reason for your smirk!" Catherine pleaded, though she received a thorough kicking under the table from Georgina. Tact was something Mary rewarded. Untactful questions, such as that of which Catherine had just presented, were questions wasted, and, more importantly, your motives displayed to your opposition. Mary Lovelace had always taught the girls that conversations were like mental sparring. You had to be aware of every verbal movement, lest you be beaten or humiliated.

At the children's antics, Mrs Lovelace almost smiled, deciding to give in, just this once. 

"Some dignitaries are joining us for supper, I have heard that two of them are young men, unmarried. Their estate is worth a fortune, and verbal account tells me that they are very agreeable indeed." She spoke with elegance, even while her daughters slumped with grief.

All the lovelace children refused to be wed, like Mary herself in her youth. All eight of her daughters were, of course, eligible wives, all extremely handsome socialites with intelligence, but that did not dampen their fire. It seemed that all they wished was to be defiant in the face of societal norms. 

Under normal circumstances, Mrs Lovelace would be charmed by her children's non-compliant nature, but today, she was only vexed and afraid.

You see, Mary Lovelace believed herself to be pregnant. She had not had her period in many weeks and concern was building. If her next child were a male, all inheritance would go to him, and her girls would be left stranded. She did not wish it upon her daughters that they must rely on the kindness of others. 

And so, from her own nerves and love of her children, she had made the executive decision to marry them off. If she kept the baby a secret, men would still seek out her daughters as they had financial reasons to court them (even if they weren't, as they were, beautiful, cunning, and endlessly agreeable). So for the safety of her beloved family, she did not retort to the complaints hurled at her, but she endured them silently.

"Mother? Have we not the means to support ourselves now?" Susan, the fourth eldest, and most boy-crazy of the lot, cried, laying upon the table as if it were a pillow. Mary pursed her lips in distaste for her decorum (or lack thereof), but allowed it, this was a stressful moment for her girls. Susan rolled to face her mother, waiting for the snappy retort that would have her shut up for the rest of the meal. When nothing came, she gave an inquisitive glance to her sisters. 

They looked back blankly, just as confused. They all agreed silently between themselves that they should test this new ground. Georgina, the bravest of the lot, and second youngest, was chosen as bait. She took a breath before speaking.

"Mama? I do not wish to have anyone court me. I find disdain at the idea of being just a wife!" She argued to no reply. She watched her mother's eyes sadden, and her hands ball themselves into fists, yet the woman said nothing. They made eye contact, and, for the first time in years, Mary looked away first. 

A heavy silence settled over the house. 

It was only broken by a mother's careful words.

"Girls, I must ask you this. Do you prefer living off the kindness of your friends, or the assured love of your husband?" The question was genuine, flavoured with an uncertainty that was unlike Mrs Lovelace. All at once her children understood. 

They suddenly felt the sorrow emanating from their mother, it cut their souls like the life or death questions their ancestors faced, even though their options were of an entirely different nature. A lifetime of imprisonment in the name of love, or the rest of their years, a leaf blowing in the winds of generosity?

No answer was truly correct.