The anger and frustration in the voice coming through the door were both unremarkable to Rosalind. After so many years of it she was all but immune to the effects of her mother's rage. "You can't hide in there forever," the voice said. It was quite accurate but Rosalind was disinclined to face her angry mother while making her statement of independence. She buried her face in her textbook, refusing to answer. She hated that her life should be interrupted with the stupid flights of fancy. She doubted anyone truly enjoyed going to parties.
A beautiful green skirt and its formal bodice were draped over her sewing form. It reminded Rosalind of what society expected of her. A beautiful body swathed in eye catching colors with not a thought in the world but to serve. Rosalind was wearing her day clothes still, her only concession to the thought that she should change clothing the removal of her boots. She sat on the bed, her legs out in front her, crossed at the knees. Her feet were pointed toward the door, which meant that when her mother opened said door she saw the open contempt on Rosalind's face.
Mrs. Lutece moved like an angered god, her heels hitting the wooden floor with a sound not unlike thunder. Rosalind carefully dogeared her book, knowing that a storm was about to break out all over her. She had no intention of losing her place. "What do you think you're doing?" Her mother's voice was much louder now, thought it was unable to contain even one more gram of rage. Her face was red and beginning to turn purple. Rosalind knew on an intellectual level that she was in trouble. She just didn't have the emotional energy to care anymore.
Rosalind tried for a moment to remember the last time she'd heard her mother's voice without that heavy undertone of fury. It occurred to her mother's outbursts were as ladylike as her own desire for a career. Though the thought was mildly amusing, even at her worst Rosalind dare not speak it where her mother might hear.
As anticipated, her mother took the book from Rosalind's hands, throwing it in the corner of the room. That was a relief to Rosalind. The last time she'd stubbornly sat at home reading rather than go to a stupid party the book had gotten the worst end of the deal. She still dare not go back to that library, for fear they would ask after the destroyed tome. She refused to answer her mother's question. It was obvious what she'd been doing, and equally obvious why she was doing it.
She received a sharp slap on the face for her trouble, which knocked her onto her side and dislodged a small amount of hair. The pain was fleeting, but it still shocked Rosalind into motion. She stood up, coming eye to eye with her mother. The older woman nodded, her hands at her sides. "Get dressed. We're leaving soon." The threat in her words was clear. Rosalind had suffered much by refusing to attend these functions. The older she became the worse the punishments were, and the more frequent these fights happened. Going without supper had quickly become the norm after these outbursts, and if this fight involved her father she'd have a lot worse to look forward to than a mere slap on the face.
It was too much, even for Rosalind's strong will. She was alone almost constantly, and often lonely as a result. To come home and suffer these indignities represented a larger threat to her ability to learn than anything else. She lowered her eyes, letting her expression became blank and thoughtful. "Of course, mother," she said, her voice barely loud enough to register in her own ears. If she could smuggle her book in she would at least get time to read in the carriage over. She knew that sometimes a strategic retreat was smarter than continuing on, blind to the consequences.
Mrs. Lutece nodded, sighing softly. "Don't act like this is a punishment. This is for your future, Rosalind. What will become of you if your father dies? Your dowry is not nearly enough to live on for the rest of your life. You need a man to provide you security. Perhaps you could marry one who will teach you about the things you want to learn. That would be nice, wouldn't it?"
Rosalind almost preferred to be hit again, rather than hear her mother plead like that. She felt the irritation of tears forming in her eyes, and her chest compressed, heaving out a soft sob. She covered her face with her hands, sinking to her knees as she was overcome by the emotions that she'd fought so hard for so long to contain. Fear and hopelessness were constant companions, hounding her for being so different, for isolating herself. She was angry, too. The world was shunning her, punishing her for her desire to be more than a vessel for a man to fill with children. The more she learned, the more isolated she became, and the hotter her anger and determination burned. Each cold look she received from a peer carved away more of her desire to be female or associate with women. She wished (for not the first or last time), that she had been born a man. It would all be so much easier.
Her mother also sank to her knees, drawing Rosalind into her arms. Rosalind let this happen, her body nearly convulsing with hideous sobs. She was nearly paralyzed by the strength of her emotions. Her mother stroked her hair and face, holding Rosalind in her arms. Rosalind didn't feel like a fifteen year old anymore. She felt like a child, lost in a world which had no place for her.
The crying lasted five minutes, but Rosalind felt that it was five hours. She gently pulled away from her mother, drawing out a handkerchief to wipe her face. Mrs. Lutece rose slowly, offering Rosalind a hand up.
Rosalind looked up at her mother, then shook her head, pushing herself up. "I'll make my own way, mother." Her voice broke, making her clear her throat to speak clearly. "It's not impossible, and I'm clever. I'll go to your parties, I'll participate in this nonsense, but I will not marry." Though she felt iron resolve and certainty her voice wobbled violently, threatening to send her into another bout of tears.
Her mother shook her head, but stood and went to gather Rosalind's party clothes. "You'll need me to lace your corset. It looks like you loosened it off to sit on the bed." They'd argued about that habit many times, but Rosalind sensed that her mother was as tired of the arguing as she was. It was useless to point out that she'd sit properly if they gave her a proper desk in her room. That had been taken away long ago, and she was certain they'd sold the thing.
After a moment's hesitation Rosalind nodded and unbuttoned her bodice. The first buttons were difficult, but by the time she was stripped to her undergarments her shaking ceased. If she was going to go through with this farce she would do so with as much grace as possible. Perhaps she could participate just enough to regain the emotional stability she needed to pursue her studies.
Robert looked up from his work when his mother entered the room. Her entranced startled him out of his train of thought. He looked sheepishly at the window before standing. It was dark outside, which meant he'd probably missed supper again. A quick glance showed him that his lamp was close to running out of fuel. He straightened his waistcoat and tugged down the cuffs of his shirt awkwardly. "I'm sorry I missed supper, mother. I was invested in my reading and did not hear you call me."
She sighed softly, shaking her head. "Robert, what are we going to do with you? You were supposed to join us when we went out this evening." There was weariness in his mother's voice. Robert knew she was growing less and less patient with him every day. It was difficult to tolerate. He hated that his interests and studies hurt her. It was his fault for spending so much time reading. He wished he could find a way to reassure her that he did love her, but his studies were important to him.
"I'm sorry, mother." He began, moving forward to take her hand. He was just barely taller than her, so he had to bend slightly to kiss her cheek. "I did want to go, but time got away from me. I do hope you gave my apologies to Mrs. Davenport and her daughter. They seemed quite eager to continue our conversation from last week." He hoped his mother wouldn't cry again. It unsettled him so to see her worry about his future. It made him feel guilty too. He wanted to be interested in the girls that his parents liked but he couldn't find the desire for them that his classmates were more than happy to display. He hoped to continue to conceal it until he went to university. Surely the women he met there would be sufficient quality to garner his respect and desire.
Mrs. Lutece looked up at her son and he saw in her face that she was surely going to cry again. His own expression fell and he looked away. "If you're not interested in Miss Davenport then who are you interested in? We don't want to force a girl upon you if you've no interest in her, but your studies may cost you a family at this rate."
Robert blanched. The pleading in his mother's voice nearly undid Robert. He tightened his fist where his mother couldn't see. He had to be strong, and he had to figure his problem out. He wished he could ask for help. He needed it so desperately. His mother knew how much he wanted a family. It was the one dream that could possibly compete with his studies. "It won't, mother, I promise. The moment I get out of college I'll marry the prettiest girl I can find. You'll see your grandchildren, no need to worry." He said it flippantly, trying to get her to smile. She was worrying over nothing. He'd show her that. He'd find some way or some woman and show everyone that he could love and be loved as a husband and wife should.
She smiled softly, patting his shoulder. "My dear son. You'll worry me to death before then." He wrapped her into a hug, which seemed like the only thing he could do that might possibly be of any comfort to her. It also hid his expression from her, which he feared would give away all his secrets and fears. She hugged him back, squeezing tight. He felt her crying before he heard it. The way her shoulders shook made his chest tight, and he was soon blinking back tears of his own. He held her close, wishing he could be better, that he was less of a disappointment. The bitter sting of helplessness was one he knew too well. It happened after every physical education class, and nearly every time he went out with his friends. He felt that he was weak and wrong, and making his poor mother terribly unhappy. He was making himself unhappy. It was ridiculous to continue with these horrible desires. Not only was he risking his future, but he could be jailed if he acted on his urges.
Her crying eased quickly, but her calm did not extend to him. He shivered and handed his mother his handkerchief, wiping away his own tears with his hand. "I'm so sorry, mother. I truly am. I will marry when I am out of college. I promise you this." His voice was shaking with fear and dread when he spoke those words. Even as they left his lips he knew they were a lie, just as he had known they were a lie the first time. He wouldn't marry, and he would not find a woman to have children with. He hoped she would not react poorly when she understood the truth. He hoped he could forgive himself for losing one of the things he wanted most in life.
His mother nodded, straightening the lapels of his jacket. "I hope so, dear child. You deserve the love of a wonderful woman." She dried her eyes and tucked his handkerchief into her sleeve.
Robert smiled, though it broke his heart to do so. "I already have that, mother. I'm just looking for a woman even half as wonderful as you." Flattery might smooth the rough edges left by his lies. It was almost the last tool he had to placate his mother and dodge his own guilt.
Her smile was beautiful, but it hurt him as well. He'd lied to make her happy, and she would be even more sad when she realized the deception. He had no answer for his problem. The best he could hope for was short term peace. It would have to do.