~3~

Marriage Vows

He put the button in the wrong hole again on the uniform.His fingers didn’t seem to wan to function today.Although, he didn’t know why he was trying so hard.Who was he trying to impress?Girard?The Congregation?He knew for sure that he wasn’t doing any of this for this woman he had never laid eyes upon.

Frustrated, he gave up, plopped down in front of his vanity, and put his head in his hands.After awhile, he looked up to face his reflection in mirror.

Truly pathetic, he sulked.How could a man who gets tossed around like this be fit to rule a country?He bowed his head in defeat.It wouldn’t be much longer now.

A knock was heard at the door.The intruder did not wait for an answer, for they entered in anyway.

“Why, good dear John.Today is truly the beginning of the vindication of France!”

Girard.As his booming, eerily cheery voice came closer, John then felt the slight pressure of a wishful hand patting him on the back.Of course, John was neither amused nor cheerful.

Disappointed by the lack of returned enthusiasm, Girard paused.“Why the solemn face, my charge?”

John looked up and shot a weary look towards Girard.“You know good and well what burdens me Girard.I am simply just bracing myself for my oncoming duty.”

“Well I assure you, you have nothing to worry about.The beautiful bride has already arrived,” Girard added gleefully.

“Fantastic,” John let out a heavy, frustrated sigh.Girard wouldn’t understand.

"Just so you know, your dear cousin decided to celebrate early and was reported to have consumed an entire bottle of his finest whiskey.Be on your watch.”

Honestly, his bumbling cousin was the least of his worries at the moment.

The two heard a knock on the door.From the inconsistency of the impacts, they couldn’t deny who it was.“Oh dear cousin, Oh dear cousin, come, let’s rejoice!”

John and Girard looked at each other and rolled their eyes.“Let him in,” John sighed.

Girard reluctantly opened the door, allowing The King to come fumbling in, with his wine bottle in hand.John looked on with disgust at the sight.

“Ah, dear cousin, such a wonderful day for a wedding.You are indeed a very lucky man.Cheers to you!”King Fredrick held up his bottle and hit it against another imaginary bottle.He then took a long swig of his drink.Meanwhile, Girard shot an I-told-you-so look towards John.

“Thanks Fredrick, your blessing means the world to me.”He added half-sarcastically.

“Oh you’re quite welcome, such a beautiful girl, you’re a truly lucky man.Wonderful day for a wedding isn’t it?” He offered each man a silly smile and resumed drinking.

John shook his head.If he had any doubt, he was getting more and more proof by the second.His cousin was a fool, unfit to run this country.He was more convinced than ever, he had to do this.He had to marry this woman.But he started to realize something else.

“Wait, you’ve seen this woman?”He couldn’t believe he seemed to be the only one who was left out of everything.Infuriated, his next questions were directed towards Girard, “At least tell me who she is.What is this girl’s name?”

Francine couldn’t fight it anymore.She had felt the strong urge to just let go and cry ever since she left England, but she didn’t want to give her mother the satisfaction.

So now, she stood there in her beautiful wedding dress.It hugged her form just right, and exaggerated her every curve.It was made of the finest silk and the prettiest of lace.Yet at that moment, her tears started to betray her.Her body shook with a multitude of emotions:anger, hatred, resentment, defeat, and most of all, deep depression.She looked at her reflection in the mirror and didn’t recognize the person she saw.In front of her was a person she swore never to become—a pleaser—a weak person who doesn’t think for them self, who bends at the slightest suggestion.France worse was turning out to be more than she could bear.

She let the tears come, just to make herself fell somewhat better.She looked around the lonely, dark room.All of the maids who helped her get prepared promptly left when they were finished.That’s how everyone was treating her here.This morning, she arrived to the palace in a coach after getting off the boat, and she was met with an overly distinguished older man, she guessed this wasn’t The Duke, she just had a feeling.He greeted her with a, “Hello Lady Francine, and welcome to Paris.”Francine didn’t bother with a verbal reply.She just gave the man, Girard she believed, an uninterested look while she struggled to keep her reserve.After a few seconds of that, he walked off.Francine followed, figuring that she should probably stay close to someone who probably knew where they were going.Then he lead her to this room, with a handful of servants waiting for her.Her eyes searched the room, but she found that there were no other men besides Girard, and she was hoping to at least catch a glimpse of The Duke.He still remained a mystery.

“In here, you will get prepared.Now please, if you would excuse me,” and he left.

Francine, now alone, further explored the room.There were portraits hanging on the walls, many books lining the bookshelves, and a big desk at the back of the room.She guessed this was a study.

She sighed and sat in a seat that was facing the desk while she pondered her coming fate.It won’t be long now.

He could feel all eyes on him.The congregation was obviously awaiting to uphold this lovely spectacle.Oh but little did they know, this was nothing but a shameful arrangement, and not the beautiful pairing they were probably imagining.And he hadn’t even seen the girl yet.But here he stood, at the pool pit, in front of the priest.John knew for sure he couldn’t turn back now.With his back facing the rest of the church, which he did gladly so he wouldn’t have to force a deceiving smile, he braced himself.

Through all his musing, he hadn’t even noticed that The Bride’s Processional was playing.In the corner of his eye, a person in white began to come into his plane of vision, and stopped when she came to his side.

It’s her, he groaned.He wanted to get a good look at her, but didn’t want to be too conspicuous.So he shifted his eyes as far to the right as he could without daring to move his head.From what he could tell, she wasn’t very tall; she came up to about his neck.Yet she seemed small, very petite, but well developed, he had to admit.He instantly wondered how old she was.With his 21 years, she couldn’t be older that him.He guessed 18 or 19.She seemed so young and fragile.

Her head was bowed.She didn’t dare to make eye contact with him, or even the priest.It took John by surprise.

Dear God, he thought to himself.She doesn’t look like the vicious thing I envisioned.She looks frightened.John never thought that maybe she wouldn’t like this either.He almost wanted to turn to her and comfort…he still hadn’t caught her name.But he decided against it.He’d keep his distance.He started to realize that the entire ceremony had been going on, and he hadn’t been paying much attention.He didn’t plan to, because the words meant nothing to him, this marriage meant nothing to him.

John’s train of thought was interrupted when the priest said, “Now I present to you, John Duke of Cantleberry, and Lady Francine!”

They were motioned to face the crowd.John smiled and acknowledged them.Francine, he thought, cute.

He took the opportunity to glance at Francine and found that she still had her head low, with a single tear falling down her cheek.

~ ~ ~

The reception was completely unbearable John and Francine stood at the front of the hall, and stood there while the guests offered their, “Congratulations,” and God-bless-you’s.John received each of them with warm smiles.They were his people, and they were truly happy for him, even if he wasn’t so proud of himself.

Francine wasn’t rude, but she wasn’t friendly either.She looked around the hall and, definitely felt out of place.She felt as if the people could look at her and tell that she was English, if they didn’t already know.As people came to her, she gave them a sheepish smile, hoping they were getting the message of, “Thanks, but no thanks”.She was also hoping that she was conveying how she wasn’t happy to be here, without being rude of course.These people hadn’t done anything to her, just started a war with her country.

She looked around.I don’t belong here, this isn’t my home.She glanced over to The Duke whose name she caught as John.He was conversing with the people, he was so charismatic.She noticed his broad shoulders and his handsome face.He probably thinks the world of himself.Yet she noticed that he hadn’t even tried to converse with her, to charm her, like she figured he would.This was their wedding night by the way, and she was expecting him to attempt to get “familiar” with her.Or was he going to force her?She planned to refuse him flat out before, but now seeing him and his brawn, she supposed she might have to put up a fight.She wasn’t so sure, but he seemed kind enough, and seemed that he wouldn’t coerce her into anything.She’d have to wait and see, and she was not looking forward to it.

John’s eyes searched the room and found the ever-loving, drunken happy king.He was toasting to anyone who was breathing, for their good health, good fortune, and even to their lovely apparel.With every step he was stumbling, and happy to fall over all of the women in the hall.John was overcome with embarrassment.He found Richarrd who just gave him an unsure yet encouraging shrug.What else could they do?They’d make their move soon enough.Hoping to still make a good impression, he turned to Francine in an attempt to explain, but from her expression he couldn’t tell whether she was baffled or intrigued.He then wondered if she knew of the plot to overthrow the ruler.John hoped so, for he sure didn’t want to blindside her.He had to admit, as treacherous as he wanted to make her out to be, she seemed to be an innocent bystander in this situation.

He decided then that he would make this as smooth for her as possible.That’s the least he could do, she was doing him, and possibly his country, a favor by being here.He wanted to start off by being nice, but he could tell that Francine was not in the mood for small talk, so he wasn’t going to try.

~ ~ ~

After what seemed like hours to the both of them, John figured it would be a good time to lead Francine away—for the night.He motioned for her to walk out of the hall with him, and she met his gaze with apparent dread in her eyes.John suddenly felt horrible for the thoughts that were probably going through her head.He would try his best to set her mind at ease when they were alone.

As they headed out, John said his final good-byes to the guests, caught a wink from Fredrick, and a comforting pat on the back from Richarrd.

Francine was lead by John.She wasn’t foolish enough to think that she getting her own room.That would’ve been too kind.And she was obviously brought here for his pleasure; why else would he have sent out a search for a wife?She was determined to put her foot down.She had to.

As much as her mind was troubled at the moment, she had to take the opportunity to survey her surroundings.The palace was beautiful.As she heard her shoes click on the floor beneath her, she looked down marveled at its beauty.It was marble with intricate patterns, and she could have sworn, gold dust strewn about it.Pillars lined the walls with the same marble and gold dust combination.She looked up to ceiling and noticed they even put the care to put designs on the ceiling.France was surely more elegant than her home.The beauty of it all filled her thoughts and imagination, but nothing caught her more than the art that hung on the walls.She gave her respects to the artists, they were certainly talented.But then the resentment started to dawn on her.Unlike her, these artists were skilled and advanced, and were officially recognized and appreciated for their work.She began to mourn because she wouldn’t have the opportunity to grow.She had to abandon her art, with all of her paint, canvases, and other supplies left back in England, her mother encouraged it.

She turned away, unable to bear the devastating loss of her dear friend.

John lead her to a room.When he opened the door, Francine saw the bed.The bedroom.She didn’t want to give away how frantic she actually was, so she tried to calm her breathing down.But by John’s obvious uneasiness, she wasn’t succeeding.

Francine wanted to cry again.She couldn’t believe the situation she had been put in.If only she knew what was going on in that man’s head.What was he planning?His silence was truly mocking her, like he was enjoying how scared she must have looked.But Francine just walked past the bed, eyeing it, challenging it, and stood at the nearby wall, facing John.

John hadn’t done as much as look at Francine since they came into the room, which he would now be sharing with this woman.Ugh, he let out a heavy sigh.He finally sat down on top of the bed, and when he glanced over at Francine tensing, he had realized his mistake.

He tried to think fast.“Um, how about for tonight, I sleep on the couch and you can have the—”, but before he could finish, Francine bolted into the next room and closed the door behind her.

John got up as fast as he could after her, but she was too quick.“Francine!”He pounded on the door; she had locked herself into the closet.He figured she must’ve been terrified by his suggestive position on the bed.

“Francine, please come out,” he begged, less urgently.When there was no response, he griped at the lost cause, frustrated with himself, and left to sit on the bed, staring at the closet door.

Francine put her ear to the door, checking whether he was nearby.She couldn’t completely recall what had just happened.Her heart had been racing till the point she thought she would faint.And then the next thing she knew, she was hiding in this closet.John hadn’t put up much of a battle to get her out, which surprised her.If he was expecting anything tonight, he was going to be disappointed because she was not coming out.She looked about her, and thought she chose a fine prison, looking at what she supposed where his clothes.

This was his and her closet now.Her breathing started to quicken from the thought.She tried to make it slow and even as she curled up on a rug on the floor, in her beautiful wedding dress, while she cried herself to sleep.