Where had it all gone wrong? Fanny reluctantly drew her eyes up at herself in the mirror and winced. She looked a state. Red eyes (red was never your colour, dear), blotchy face (a girl's skin should look like fresh milk) and she was hiccupping in a most unladylike fashion. Her mother would have slapped her for her insolence and sent her to her room. Well, she was in her room. Alone. As usual.
She looked around miserably. George hadn't stinted on his devotion to his wife's needs. Her boudoir was one of the finest in the county (she had been assured) and her garments were never out of fashion. True, she had grown a little stouter over the years and George hadn't seem to care but what she really wanted was beyond her reach. George rarely visited her chamber and more often than not, she would lie in the dark feeling bereft and alone while his laughter echoed from the drawing room, entertaining his friends without her at his side. Fanny felt more useless year by year, with only Dante for company, the only creature to share her bed.
He must have realised how lonely she'd become, for on her birthday, he presented her with a basket with the sweetest puppy peeking over the top. For a while she'd been the happiest she'd been for a long time. It seemed to please him to see her carefree joy, more like the young girl he had married. But it had proved to be only a distraction. She was meant to lavish her love on the dog and leave him to his pursuits but she wasn't satisfied with that. He should have realised.
'George please, I want a baby' she had pleaded desperately with him one night, shamefully at her door where the maid could hear. She had lowered her voice but she hated the way she sounded, so needy and pathetic.
'My word, woman, is all of this this not enough for you?' He muttered in frustration. He did visit her, not regularly but in a somewhat reliable manner. She had come to expect him at some point every month. But recently he'd become lax in his duty. For it had become few and far between, his visits.
'The longer we continue like this, the more I come under suspicion from your mother, my mother, everyone. Can't you understand that?'
He uttered an irritation and gestured her words sharply away. She couldn't understand it. Why had he given her all this finery but was so determined not to make her truly happy?
It took the most part of a year for him to reconsider what she really wanted. Perhaps he had heard the snide comments from the ladies behind their fans. Maybe his mother was asking him questions. Perhaps he had wanted to avoid gossip or the suggestion of a doctor. Whatever the reason, he was starting to visit more regularly and while he felt more distant in public, at least he was making an effort inside the bedroom. She appreciated his attentiveness and she began to look upon him more fondly. It was almost like he was back to the man she had married.
One day she found herself painfully crumpling to the floor in front of her mother-in-law, no worse. Her response was put down to the inevitable discovery of her condition, as it naturally would be. But she had convinced herself, that without even realising, it was with relief she had fainted, that George had finally done his duty and she would finally be worthy in the eyes of society. As long as he'd give her that, she'd not bother him further.
Again, another disappointment. The good news wasn't to last and she found herself alone in her room again, attempting to console herself at the loss.
She thought there was there was nothing more to be said, nothing more he could betray her on.
But the worst was yet to come.
What she'd seen in the gardening shed was just too much. Couldn't even face him at dinner. She pleaded a headache and retired to her room, barely being able to force down the clear soup brought to her.
What she hadn't realised was how desperate he would become to silence her. She would have kept her mouth shut for the sake of their family, for their reputation. She had to. No matter his protestations that it wasn't what she had thought. But it had been what she'd thought. She shuddered at the thought of his visit, the lightest touch from him would repulse her. She decided that she would never entertain his touch again. No matter what.
How wrong she was.
She didn't even have time to realise how wrong she'd been.
The last touch she ever felt was his sturdy push at her back. Right out of the window.