Chapter four: Discussions of days gone by and ahead

I stomped down to the breakfast room with the newspaper in my clenched, shaking hand. My parents both looked up at me as I slapped the newspaper down on the table. "What is this?" I demanded, pointing to the announcements between the recent births and deaths. Appropriate, considering I was somewhat between living and dying. "How dare you?"

My father simply wiped his mouth. "Good morning to you as well. I trust the announcement was appropriate."

"You just announced that I'm getting married to a man that I refused." I growled. "What gives you the right to-

"The fact that you are my daughter and you will do as I say!"

I shift my shoulders. "It's my life; you don't have the right to simply sign it away!"

My stepmother groaned. "It's your fault William, allowing those books and her strange ideals into this house. It's a disgrace."

I snapped. "Unless I'm wrong, the pair of you love each other." I snapped. "And if I am mistaken, you loved my mother!" My father stood up, his face full of silent thunder. I recognized that look well enough to know that I had best be silent for I had almost gone too far. However, I wouldn't stay silent. "So tell me, what is so disgraceful about me wanting to be in love with the man I marry?"

It was then that my father struck my cheek. I couldn't hold back a cry as I grabbed onto my stinging cheek, I was certain that I'd have a bruise on my cheek tomorrow. But I was stunned by my father's action, for he'd never once raised a hand to me. Shock washed over me in waves as I looked at him in shock.

For a second, I thought I saw regret in his eyes, then resolve. He straightened his coat. "Go upstairs and prepare to leave. Mrs. Holmes is coming here in an hour, to help you purchase a wedding dress." Tears began to fill my eyes as I realized that I'd have no choice but to runaway. I had no way of knowing how I'd support myself, but I wouldn't do anything desperate to support myself. "You're old enough to know that some things in this society will never change. As long as you are under my roof, you will do as I say. Now go!"

I hurried from the room, refusing to look at either of them in the eye. I heard my stepmother congratulate father for discipline 'the little witch.' I hurried up the stairs, already vowing to plan my escape from the very hellhole that my home had become.

In the dress shop that afternoon,

I bit my lip as I examined my reflection in the dress. It was beautiful, with a square neckline, a fringed beaded sash. Lacy, Grecian style sleeves and a deep back. Mrs. Holmes and I agreed to no veil and a large feather clip for my hair. She said Sherlock would have a fit if I were to wear a veil, as it was some stupid superstition to protect the bride from evil spirits.

I'd tried to put some emotion into my voice, but I failed. After a few moments, Mrs. Holmes dismissed the lady helping us and spoke. "Now, Tammy, why don't you tell me what's on your mind."

I avoided her gaze as I answered. "Too many things."

"I can imagine. When you return home," she pointed out. "you'll find your suitcase unpacked and all of your jewelry paid for and returned." I looked up at her in shock. How had she known that and how was she able to return all of the jewelry I'd pawned? I had a small fortune with those jewels that I'd sold. She'd answered my silent questions. "Mycroft paid your maid to go visit a 'sick' relative and replaced her with one of his. He's placed men to watch the house and one of them retrieved the jewelry. I'm sorry," her tone did sound sympathetic to my plight. "but, you are to marry Sherlock this Sunday." My lip began to quiver and I began to shake. She wrapped an arm around my shoulder and guided me down to the nearest seat. "I think we need to talk."

"Talk?" I demanded before lowering my voice in respect to her. "I've tried, but I can't. Because my father can't keep his money in an orderly fashion, I must be sold like some animal to a man I don't know and don't love!"

She smiled reminiscently. "You know, you remind me of myself when I was your age."

"Do you love your husband?" the words slipped out before I could stop them. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"Any woman in your situation has a right to ask that question." She says kindly. "But before I answer that question, I must know, do you feel anything for Sherlock? Any little thing at all?"

I'm silent before admitting. "He…scares me."

Mrs. Holmes laughs and I look at her in confusion. "I'm sorry; Sherlock has many effects on people. You're the first person who's listed fear as an emotion." She sobered slowly, but there was a small glint of mirth in her eyes. "What…about my son could possibly scare you?"

Suddenly, the words burst from me like a dam breaking forth. "I don't know him!" I throw my hands in the air. "Pardon me for speaking so candidly, but your son is….weird! I mean the eyeballs, the sheet and the skull. What else would I think of him? One minute, he's empathically agreeing with me that he doesn't wish to marry me, that marriage is against every bloody fiber of his being! Pardon the language. Then, the next minute, he's done a complete Jekyll and Hyde routine and he wants to marry me! Moreover, not only that, he's over eager! And yes, I know about the wifely requirements that a woman must submit to her husband. If his interests in me are purely physical, then my life will be a living hell!"

I inhale deeply for air, to find Mrs. Holmes looking at me quietly. She waits a long moment before responding. "No. I didn't love my husband." All the air whooshed out of me. "Like you, I was forced to marry my husband. However, unlike you and Sherlock, timothy and I did know each other. I wasn't marrying a complete stranger. I simply, didn't like timothy. Then my parents died and I had two younger siblings to support. Timothy was the richest man I knew and I could twist him around my finger if I needed to. He knew I didn't love him when he married me."

"Then why'd he marry you?" I asked. "Couldn't he have simply helped you?"

"He loved me and he wanted me to be his."

I exhaled. "Want. An ugly word to be sure."

"And yet, it is the most wonderful word in the world, isn't it?" She questioned me softly. "Doesn't everyone want love and want to be wanted?" I silently nod my head. "My wedding night," I looked up at her. "wasn't anything like you could imagine."

"You don't have to tell me." I said hastily. "It's not proper for me to-

"Nonsense! You're almost my daughter-in-law, so I feel it my right to tell you so. Nothing happened that night." Now, against my will, I was curious. "I was prepared for anything to happen. The last thing I expected was timothy kissing me on the mouth, getting into the covers and telling me goodnight." My eyes widened in surprise. "I immediately asked him if we were consummating our marriage. He told me, "We aren't consummating this marriage until you love me as much as I love you." Personally, I thought he was mad, but…a little more than a month later, I was in love with timothy and I've stayed in love with him all these years."

I'm almost struck silent, but, I never could remain silent for long. "But, just because you fell in love with your husband, doesn't mean I shall love mine, especially when unlike your husband, he hasn't shown any regard for me."

She's silent for a moment. "He's shown you admiration, that's more than he's shown anyone other than John Watson."

I hesitated before asking. "Does…do you think he loves me?"

She pauses, biting her lip. "I don't know, you see….I've only heard him say that he loved me once a year on mother's day." I stared at her in horrified amazement. "Sherlock doesn't believe in revealing his emotions to anyone. Frankly, I'd take the fact that he wants to marry you as a sign that he does have some affection for you."

I shook my head. "How can you bear it? I thought my father loved me for he told me so every day. But then, his sudden forcing the issue of my marriage has made me wonder if he's loved me as deeply as he claims. Your son tells you that he loves you once a year. Can you be firmly grounded in the belief that what he means what he says or does he say on mother's day only to please you?"

Her answer is straightforward and honest. "I can honestly say that he loves me."

"Then why doesn't he say so?"

"Why does he need to say something to the extent of what I know to be true?" She asks. "He knows I love him as I know he loves me." I couldn't speak anymore; I looked down and surveyed my shaking hands. Mrs. Holmes covered them with a warm hand of hers. "Sherlock is a good man at heart. He won't hurt you, if that's all your concerns. I've told you of my husband's character, in spite of how Sherlock acts, his father has instilled morals in him and he will hold to those."

As much as I wished that were the extent of my fears, it wasn't. Tomorrow was my birthday and the day after that…was my wedding day. And I saw no way earthly way of getting out of it.