Page 12 of Anathema
“Perhaps you will simply do as I say without argument, dear.” The dissonant warmth in Agatha’s voice had both of us glancing at each other, the concern clear in Aleysia’s eyes.
I offered a subtle nod to her, because who knew when Agatha’s smooth cordiality might crack?
My sister snorted, eyes on Mr. Moros as she sauntered past. “Yes, Agatha.”
Once out of the room, Agatha rested a hand against the man’s shoulder. “My apologies. She hasn’t been right since her father’s passing. It’s quite hard on a child.”
A lie. Aleysia had always been that way. Father’s death seemed to have pulled very little emotion out of her.
“No harm done. I’m certain your son’s passing has affected all of you, in some way, or another.”
“Stepson,” Agatha corrected. “He was Godfrey’s boy.”
“Ah, yes. Of course.” With a nod, Mr. Moros turned his attention back on me. “I’d like to invite you to brunch tomorrow, if you’d be so kind as to indulge me.”
A quick glance at Agatha showed her lips tightened, and she gave a curt nod that sent a spiral of alarm across the back of my neck. I opened my mouth to speak, suddenly speechless as it occurred to me why she’d introduced us. Agatha had never cared to socialize Aleysia and me. Particularly me, with my reputation. And prominent businessmen didn’t spare young women a glance without intention. “I’m afraid I can’t. Bible study.”
“Oh, I’m certain Sacton Crain would be happy to postpone.” The clip of Agatha’s tone told me she wasn’t happy with my response. “Of course she will join you, Mr. Moros. You honor our family with such an invitation.”
“No, I really–”
“Excellent. I’ll have a carriage sent to retrieve you.” He rubbed his hands together, and I noted rings of various colorful jewels along his fingers.
I’d once heard Agatha call a villager a whore for all the jewelry she’d worn. I should’ve brought it up just to nettle her, but my throat was still clogged with shock.
“Wonderful, how is noon?” Agatha actually smiled that time. In all the years I’d known the woman, I’d never seen her smile. A new wave of sickness crept over me, as I listened to the two of them settle plans on my behalf.
“Noon is magnificent.” Mr. Moros lifted my hand to kiss the back of my palm. The moment his dry lips pressed to my skin, my stomach flipped on itself, and on instinct, I retracted. The older man regarded me as if I’d slapped him across the face, and his eye twitched. He straightened upright and adjusted his cuffs, clearly ruffled by my rejection. “Until tomorrow.” On those parting words, he gave Agatha a chaste kiss on the cheek and walked away.
“What is this?”
“Your future.” She fussed with her sleeves, as though the conversation meant little to her. “You didn’t honestly think I’d carry the two of you the rest of your lives, did you?”
“You intend to marry me off to a man three times my age?”
“That older man offered three times the amount that a man your age could even dream of bidding.”
“You … sold me?” The word caught in my throat, while I fought to hold back the emotion gurgling in my chest. Sold. It sounded so cold. Like a worthless necklace of which she longed to be rid.
“How exactly do you think betrothals work, dear? You alone will help dig us out of this god-awful debt that your grandfather left behind.”
Grandfather hadn’t left behind debt. She’d acquired it on her own, a point I would’ve loved to have thrown in her face and laughed about, if I weren’t so enraged.
“You have cursed this family long enough,” she went on. “Fortunately for you, Mr. Moros isn’t an entirely superstitious man. Between you and your sister, I should earn enough dignity to show my face again.”
“You’re selling Aleysia off, as well?”
“Yes. I have someone in mind, though I’ve not yet proposed the idea. But he’s a disciplined young man who might keep her in line. Break that unbridled nature of hers.”
“I won’t.” Had we been alone right then and not watched by the straggling few parishioners who’d stuck around, I wondered if I’d have had the courage to smack her, as badly as my palm itched. “I won’t go. I refuse.”
“You don’t have a choice. He’s already paid. The man desires an heir, and you will give him one. And besides that, the entire parish saw that prisoner grab your arm and speak some foreign tongue. They’re convinced the two of you shared a devil bond. A few have already demanded a proper exorcism. Should you refuse Mr. Moros, well, I suspect you’ll find yourself at the mercy of the faithful.”
“He was delusional. Everyone knew he’d raved about … about the …”
“The what? You can’t even say it, can you? You play along well, Maevyth, but the truth is, there is a sliver of denial that you can’t help but pick and pick, and pick.” She hobbled closer, setting my nerves aflame again, and lifted a small tendril of my hair. “I remember the day your grandfather found you on the doorstep in your bassinet. I begged him to get rid of you, and he refused, the fool. Do you think it’s any coincidence that both he and your father met an early demise? Or that we’ve suffered only slightly less than the poor?”
An angry breath shot out of me, her accusation like a slap to the face. “Are you suggesting I’m at fault for these things?”