It all seemed to be going so smoothly now, the room still and quiet as if the ceiling had not just crashed in on them a few moments earlier. His certain yes made her chest hurt, but maybe that was just her corset fitted properly to her again, and maybe she’d known that answer already. But if he was trying to make her feel better with best case scenarios (– and whyever would he care to make her feel better now, when he had just gone and deliberately condemned her? –), it wasn’t working.
“Oh,” she answered faintly. Her parents. Jemima closed her eyes, hardly ready to think about it. Maybe he wouldn’t have to care, if it was only her parents, but that felt like – a death sentence all the same. And her parents were kind people, truly; they were still fond of each other, and their whole family was close-knit and loving, and both her mother and father had always taken a genuine interest in bringing up their children – in instilling their values, trying to teach them things.
Jemima might never have been their brightest child – she had been a mediocre student, and had had no real successes on the society scene, had been probably more trouble than she was worth, to be honest – but they had both always been patient with her. They had never failed to show pride in their children, when it was deserved. And so, whatever happened, no matter how bad, she was sure they would protect her. But their bitter disappointment if they heard something like this about her? Somehow that alone would be more painful to her than half of society knowing. They would never look at her the same way again.
Of course, half of society might end up getting wind of this too, so there was really no consolation to be found. Swallowing, Jemima took the ends of the corset laces from him once he’d finished and tucked the end knot back inside her skirts mechanically. Going back out there would be a walk to the gallows for her, one way or another. Was there any sense delaying it? She tugged her arms through her dress bodice and wrapped it around her back, waiting for him to help hook this layer back together too. To think she had had such a fit of anxiety before; it seemed silly now, without even having a real reason to worry. Instead, now, as Jemima reached up to try and neaten her hair, she only felt oddly hollow. Perhaps because she had tried to dredge up some hope in her for the future, and this time, for once, she had found none left.
“Oh,” she answered faintly. Her parents. Jemima closed her eyes, hardly ready to think about it. Maybe he wouldn’t have to care, if it was only her parents, but that felt like – a death sentence all the same. And her parents were kind people, truly; they were still fond of each other, and their whole family was close-knit and loving, and both her mother and father had always taken a genuine interest in bringing up their children – in instilling their values, trying to teach them things.
Jemima might never have been their brightest child – she had been a mediocre student, and had had no real successes on the society scene, had been probably more trouble than she was worth, to be honest – but they had both always been patient with her. They had never failed to show pride in their children, when it was deserved. And so, whatever happened, no matter how bad, she was sure they would protect her. But their bitter disappointment if they heard something like this about her? Somehow that alone would be more painful to her than half of society knowing. They would never look at her the same way again.
Of course, half of society might end up getting wind of this too, so there was really no consolation to be found. Swallowing, Jemima took the ends of the corset laces from him once he’d finished and tucked the end knot back inside her skirts mechanically. Going back out there would be a walk to the gallows for her, one way or another. Was there any sense delaying it? She tugged her arms through her dress bodice and wrapped it around her back, waiting for him to help hook this layer back together too. To think she had had such a fit of anxiety before; it seemed silly now, without even having a real reason to worry. Instead, now, as Jemima reached up to try and neaten her hair, she only felt oddly hollow. Perhaps because she had tried to dredge up some hope in her for the future, and this time, for once, she had found none left.
