“Your father owes Lord Birchwood a tremendous debt,” her mother snapped. She placed both hands on her hips and sent an aggravated stare at her husband. “He is a foolish man for getting himself into this state in the first place, but he is indeed in debt. With this engagement, your father will have paid everything he owes and be forgiven for his sins.” She inhaled deeply through her nose. “We need Lord Birchwood to continue to see this unionin a favorable light. Our family needs his income so that we secure our future.”
So, I truly am a pawn.Phoebe felt her shoulders slump.
But no.
No, the Duke had given her a token of confidence, and she had to take it. The boldness of Lord Spencer’s ball, the rebellion of sneaking out that night, it all collided in her throat until she found her voice. Her true voice, the one her parents had silenced her whole life.
“So, you secure yourselves…but what about me?” Her blood thrummed in her veins as she took the opportunity to say all that plagued her. “Is my freedom truly worth less than your comfort, then? You will sacrifice my happiness, my own sense of pride and well-being so that you may prosper on your own terms?”
At first, both of her parents looked shocked at her speaking out, but then they smirked at one another before turning dull, unfeeling expressions toward her.
“Yes,” her mother answered flatly. “We will sacrifice your future to secure our own.”
“How could we not?” her father added. “You have made it remarkably easy to find a remedy to all our problems.”
Phoebe was stunned. She knew not what to say. “I…have been a dutiful daughter,” she managed to eke out through trembling lips.
The Earl tipped his head to the side and gave Phoebe a look that could almost be described as sympathetic.
“You have done as we asked, Phoebe, and for your obedience, your mother and I will be forever grateful. But surely, you must know that you were always destined to save our family.” His smirk disappeared and was replaced by a more thoughtful expression. “We raised you to be respectful. Your mother has done all she could to make you into a tractable, moldable young lady. Don’t you see, my girl? You are most valuable. Any husband would be pleased to have a quiet, dutiful young lady like you by his side.”
She flinched away from them, crushed by their words. Her worth was not in being a daughter but being a bargaining chip.
“Your father is right,” her mother said as she stepped into the void that separated Phoebe from them. “I have expended a great deal of energy in educating you.”
“You…you…” Phoebe could not summon the proper words.
Her mother scolded her continuously and sent her away when she proved to be burdensome, so how could she claim to have spent her time in any other way?
“You are worth a lot, Phoebe,” her mother said, as though it was something to be proud of. “This engagement shall save your father and I.”
“And what of me?” she whispered. “What will save me?”
Her father snorted. “What do you need saving from, Daughter? Lord Birchwood will lavish you with riches for the rest of your life.”
I need saving from both of you, and not in a way that is marriage to Lord Birchwood.
“Heavens, you are ungrateful,” her mother muttered, shaking her head. Pressing a hand to her forehead, she began to pace the parlor. “I did not mean to raise such a selfish daughter, yet here I am.”
She spread her arms widely towards Phoebe, a mockery of an embrace, but it was more to gesture at the selfish person in the room.
“Phoebe, all we have ever asked of you is to be dutiful. It is your duty to preserve the good name of Tripleton. It is also your duty to keep this engagement with Lord Birchwood. You and any new friends you make, should accept that what’s done is done. You must learn to embrace your future and not actively seek to sabotage it.”
The threat came loud and clear, and Phoebe stepped back, clutching her bare neck, aching to run up to her chambers to clasp her pendant for comfort.
She had always known her parents were this way. She was only seen as an investment rather than a daughter, someone they were supposed to love and cherish. Still, hearing it aloud made her heart ache.
“You are serious,” she whispered.
“Naturally.” Her mother tossed the reply out in an airy and flippant nature.
“You are honestly saying that the only worth I have to you is being a bargaining chip. My life means nothing. My wishes… my hopes and dreams… they are all folly. I am merely a pawn on a chess board.”
Her mother cackled shrilly. “Dear,” she drawled, with none of the affection such an endearing term should have, “the wholetonis dancing across a chess board. We are all pawns.”
“But you had a choice to make me more than that, to make me feel like your daughter. You could have loved me and treated me with kindness and…”
Suddenly, Phoebe ran out of steam. She could not continue lecturing to her parents when she could see that her words and pleas meant so little to them.
