January 13th, 1890 - The Finch House, Wellingtonshire

The taut lacings of her corset forced Melody's waist to an impossible small size. She had spent the better part of the afternoon being tugged on and beautified by Lucy, her mother's ditzy but obedient lady's maid. Her curls, normally tucked into a simple updo, had been smoothed and woven into an intricate bun. There was so much powder on her face and neck that her warm complexion was completely obscured. She could scarcely look at herself in the mirror, for this perfectly trimmed woman wasn't who she was. The woman staring back at her with dark eyes was someone Melody had been at war with for the better part of two years now.

She remained silent as the excitement around her grew. Maggie and her mother were chatting incessantly about every topic under the sun, as though the pair hadn't been together just yesterday. Was this her future, then? Giddy chatter about topics she could care less about? Would her independent will melt into the needs of her husband and children? Maggie hadn't dreamt of being a proper wife and mother, or at least Melody didn't believe so. They had spent many nights tucked in the windowsill of the Ravenclaw tower discussing their dreams of the future. Somehow, being forced into a marriage with an American of all people hadn't ever come up.

Downstairs, she heard the butler's warm greeting to her intended. Her father had requested a moment with Mister St. John-Black alone before the women were to join them. 'Likely to finalize the terms of sale,' she thought ruefully. Ben would never have allowed this to happen to her. If he truly understood what was to be - if he had even the slightest inkling as to how desolate she felt - he would've kept her away. They would have flown off on his magic carpet (Melody still didn't know where he had found a flying carpet) and be together right now. She turned from her mother and sister and subtly dabbed the corners of her eyes with her handkerchief. Life was so miserably unfair.

Before she had time to steel herself against what was to come this evening, Melody and her mother were signalled to join the men downstairs. Briefly, as the pair walked in silence down the steps, she wondered if she could faint and escape the evening altogether. She could blame the suffocating nature of her corset and beg to lie down. Surely, Mister St. John-Black would understand her being ill, right? As always, Melody arrived at the conclusion just a moment too late, for the parlor doors were opening. Damn it. There was no escaping it now.

"My wife, Marianne, and Melody.' Her father casually introduced the pair to the tall man. So, this was him then. In any other circumstances, Melody might have found him handsome. If they were introduced before any match was made, she might have even approached him herself. However, as their eyes met all Melody could see was the defeated look on Ben's face when he first discovered of her impending marriage. She could only feel the warmth of his arms around her. This man (the very same man who thought to inform her of their wedding with a bloody letter!) was a far cry from the one Melody's heart was besotted with.

After a subtle nudge from her mother, Melody remembered she was meant to be greeting him, "good evening." It was a simple and bland greeting, the soft smile on her lips wasn't reflected anywhere else on her face. Some would say she ought to thank him for willing to marry an aging debutante. Melody, however, would rather fall in a pit of venomous spiders before sharing a single word of gratitude.

---