2. Eavesdropping

(Author's note: In this story Daphne has a heart condition called vasovagal syncope. It a non-life-threatening diagnosis which causes people to faint or feel lightheaded. Some triggers include excessive exercise, intense emotion (such as fear), standing for long stretches of time, dehydration, or the sight of blood. Of course doctors in the nineteenth century did not know what this diagnosis is, what its causes were, or how to treat it. Enjoy!)

No one told me that the garden in the back was not segregated between the genders.

My breathing quickened a little. Father and I were having dinner in the right wing along with all the other eligible ladies and their escorts. Lots of widows and aunts were conversing with Father, making small talk and keeping the mood light. Father, a simple man with simple ambitions, didn't seem to catch on that they were….. engaging with coquetry, all while completely ignoring me sitting right beside him. It made for an uncomfortable dinner party.

Not that I could stay for long though. Without warning, my heart started to race again. This wasn't a "my heart is fluttering" scenario; this was a "my heart is beating faster and I can't slow it down" situation. I knew where this led if I didn't slow it down soon…. My mind was already getting lightheaded. I tapped my Father on the arm to grab his attention. "May I take a walk in the garden out back, please? The air in here oppresses me." Knowing immediately what I meant, he didn't hesitate to nod his head. "Of course. Would you like me to accompany you?" "Oh no, I'll be fine! You enjoy the rest of your dinner," I smiled, getting up out of my seat. "Don't go too far off on your own," he warned. "I won't."

No one noticed as I slipped out back outside down the small staircase into the massive grounds out back. It was already dark out- the Engagement Ball would officially be starting soon. Taking a deep breath in, I tossed my head back and put my hand over top my chest. Inhaling slowly seemed to slow down my heartrate- good. After a moment of more deep breathing, I felt much better. Still, I was reluctant to go straight back inside. It was still dawning on me that these were my last few precious hours of being a bachelorette. Pretty soon I would be betrothed….. to a man I'd never met before. The very idea made me bite my bottom lip apprehensively.

"M-Maybe you'll like him," I suddenly blurted to myself out loud. That was more a self-soothing gesture than anything else. Still, there was some truth in it. I mean, I did not know who my future husband was to be; we may get on well….. I still nibbled my lip unsure and frightened. Father's right. Regardless who my fiancé turns out to be, it's in the best interest of my family that I get married. It was considered the upmost scandal for a proper gentleman to turn down a marriage proposal- it would be social and financial suicide for both our families. This was one rare occasion where the woman held all of the power; my fiancé would be forced to marry me, lest I decide otherwise. But even if I did say no, my family would still suffer a scandal. Only his reputation would be spared if I turned down the marriage. I've heard horror stories of men making the lives of their fiancées miserable to force them to break the match. That's why not only my father but two eldest brothers are here too: to ensure that my future husband does not bully me into saying "no" before the wedding day. But what about after we're married…

I'm stressing myself out; that is not good for my weak constitution. I must stop before things get any worse. Resolved to calm myself down, I decided to take a little walk; not too far away from the right wing, mind you. Father would worry if I went out too far on my own.

I guess I had gone some ways though because I soon heard a couple of voices. Unfamiliar male voices. They were talking up on the patio, concealed by a large array of bushes which I used to hide myself behind. The horrific realization hit me like a lightening bolt. Father was one of the only men back in the right wing, and the guards and male staff were all on duty. That must mean….. The left wing of the palace has access to the gardens too! That seemed like a major oversight to me and left me feeling very vulnerable. I was just about to leave when I heard their conversation.

"If you ask me, the whole affair is absurd. Why can we not pick our own partners? Gentlemen of our rank have the privilege everywhere else in Europe." "Ah, such is the burden of being born a noble Englishman. Hopefully our next king will abolish the practice." There were two voices I could distinguish thus far, but I did not have a face to put to either of them. I could not see anyone in their party from where I was standing. "Allow me to disagree; I rather like this outdated English custom. If it were not for the ceremony, I would have to waste valuable time courting ladies and conversing with marriage-minded mamas as the Europeans do. I suppose it may be easy if one is good at writing poetry and choosing the right flowers to send, but I fear courting would not come so naturally to me. There'd be a thousand other things I'd wish I would be doing instead the whole time I'm wasting with her," a third man chuckled. There are a thousand things I'm sure she'd rather do than spend time with you too, I frowned in disgust. Is this what men talk like when they don't think women are listening? How revolting! At least ladies have the decency to keep their good manners irrelevant of who's company we're in. The thought of being forced to marry one of these degenerates made me cringe like never before.

The trio went on with their depravity. "I just hope the queen picks someone with a tolerable face. Ugly offspring is the worst fate I can imagine. That, and having to look at her hideous mug at the breakfast table every morning." They roared with laughter, and I felt sick. I never knew men could be so disgusting before. It made me all the more scared for the ball which I would soon have to dress for. "You're too right, Andrews. But do not despair if your fiancée is unseemly. You only to wed, bed, and bred her, then you can turn to more pleasurable pursuits." "And more pleasurable partners." More laughter. I wanted to vomit.

The sound of the door opening interrupted the three in their "conversation", if you could call it that. Footsteps echoed on the concrete as a fourth member joined them; yet again, I couldn't see who it was. But the men seemed to perk up at his arrival. "Basset! Fancy seeing you here. Didn't know if you'd make it back for the Season in time." Basset? I don't know any Bassets, or Andrews for that matter. The new arrival huffed. "It's not "Basset" anymore, Jents. Not since my father died." "Ah, your too young for the title of "duke". Besides, everyone at Oxford knew you as "Basset". Grant me the transition time," the second man teased this Basset fellow. "If you must," I bet he rolled his eyes at this.

"What are you doing here? Last I heard you were off in Greece somewhere," Mr. Andrews inquired to Mr. Basset. "I was, but my godmother insisted I return to London. Being the heir to my father's title and estate, the queen "kindly" reminded her that my presence is legally required here this Season," Mr. Basset huffed again. The other chuckled at this. "Well now, the duke must have a wife. Seems like the queen has an interest in preserving your family line." "Such is the case with any titled gentleman," the second guy sighed.

The first guy, who I think was Mr. Jents, spoke again. "You really intend not to take a wife, Basset? You need a duchess to take your proper place in society." "I desire a wife like I desire to contract the plague. In my opinion the best wife is one whom I am immune to catching." Wow. Whoever this Mr. Basset is, he really doesn't want to get married.

I feel sorry for his future wife.

There was a brief pause until the one named Mr. Andrews broke it again. "Well, who knows. The queen has not matched you with anyone these past two Seasons. Perhaps this year shall be the same for you, Basset." "God willing, it will be. Marriage is not a condition I am suited for, and I firmly believe that no woman here could even remotely tempt me to think otherwise," Mr. Basset said with finality. "Oh? Not even the diamond of the first water? I heard she's a real beauty this year. A total stunner," Mr. Jents chimed. Hey, wait….. That's me! He's talking about me! How would he know? None of them have even seen me. Must be gossip among the servants. I felt a bit insulted when the duke snorted. "Please, as if any woman could have enough beauty to possibly make the ball-and-chain sentence of marriage worth it. She could be Helena of Troy for all I care." "Wow, not even a diamond could tempt you. You're determined, my friend." "It is not a diamond I seek. Such jewels are too weak to catch my attention. No, the only lady I would ever deem worth considering wouldn't be a gem.

She would be a sun."