A Woman to Wed

Delphine continued lacing up her corset, with every tug of the white string marking the harsh bang of another bomb. Her brown locks swirled down halfway past her midsection, and she gathered them in her hand, twisting them up into a societally appropriate bun and locking them into place with a purple butterfly hairpin. In the sun, those same strands of hair would have shined like bronze, reminding onlookers of Delphine’s value. However, she was not to go into the sun. It could damage her skin, cloaking it in a sheen of burnt red for the season.

As a member of the lower castes of Canteria, Delphine was equivalent to a lower tier metal, and only the mixing of her caste with that of a higher one would solidify her status as more than a mere beggar or prostitute on the streets. Delphine remembered seeing such lowly individuals on her walks to secondary school and shuddering at the possibility of living such a life. She remembered hearing the fervent cries of “help” and “two pence for a night.” Some of the women wore lingerie, others wore nothing. Delphine, during these encounters, remained in her long sleeved dress and petticoat, awestruck. Yet, she remembered to hide herself from the eyes of the men who languidly watched the semi naked women from across the street. After all, her chastity was a virtue that could not be replaced. If it was even questioned by the surrounding populace, she would be ruined.

Moments like these had solidified Delphine’s understanding of the importance of her role in conjunction with her family’s status. She could not let herself, let alone her younger siblings, become one of those beggars and prostitutes. They were in the second to lowest caste and any further downgrade would leave them deprived of basic life necessities. To remind herself of the importance of status and money, Delphine carried a two pence coin in her stockings, always. As the years passed, she carried her coin, feeling it in the palm of her hand some days while undressing, and remembered...she could not become one of them. She could not let her family members become unclothed, ridiculed, and penniless. She would have to partake in Canteria’s marriage matching games, with her mother publishing her image (along with a write-up of her qualities) in the local newspaper in the hope that a suitor would see her, find her desirable, and come calling. If this happened, Delphine would be the property of this man forever. He would fully control her and any assets. However, this was the fate of most Canterian women of higher statuses, regardless. Hard labor, especially for a woman, was condemned.

Another bomb shook the house, shaking Delphine out of a dazed trance. Explosions had become a norm in Canteria, with the opposing forces of the Sanderians launching daily attacks in the attempt to regain what their government claimed to be long lost lands. While many were scared as a result of the constant violence, Delphine saw any potential explosion as an escape from her current predicament (as morbid as that sounds). Delphine’s brother had been injured by an attack in April and had lost his arm, placing the burden of their family’s financial status on her. This had driven her into a state of depression. Having lost their dad ten years ago, the Randelin family was destitute and on the verge of homelessness. They had some savings, but these had quickly been depleted. The Canterian government continued raising taxes and their family now paid more in taxes than they would earn in a year. As a result, Delphine had been tasked with saving them from homelessness and now awaited her destiny as the wife of a financially well off suitor. She had no dowry, but knew how to cook, clean, do needlework, and read. She thought this would be enough, but questioned if learning how to play the piano would help her appear more desirable. The piano in the corner of their crumbling brick home had sat unused for years and now was coated with a thin layer of dust. It needed tuning, but her family could not afford it. Delphine noted that, once married to a Duke or Baron or Count, she would first send a check with enough money to repair that piano. Her mother would chastise her and ask it be spent on food or other necessities, but the piano would fill their crumbling house with more joy than a loaf of bread would.

Leaving her train of thought, Delphine reached toward her vanity and started perusing the pile of papers that her mother had set there that morning. She still carried her coin in her left hand, but started flipping through the papers with her right, looking at the eligible men of the season. Baron Wilson, who had left his pregnant wife in the attempt to find a younger woman. Viscount Samuel, who had specified he wanted his wife to remain a virgin; he was in no mood to have an heir. Duke Mattheas was young and handsome, but also the prime target for every

woman between the ages of seventeen and twenty. Delphine sighed in exasperation, knowing a woman of her caste status was limited in her options. Despite having fair skin, lovely green eyes, and a suitable figure, she would have to settle for a man deemed undesirable by many. Perhaps, she would have to marry a man forty or fifty years her elder. One of the main deterrents, as always, would be her nose. It was pointy and far too large for her face. Feeling anxious, she clutched her coin, remembering that it was this or that. To keep their house and any semblance of comfort, the Randelin family needed her to marry.

Delphine, as a woman of sound judgment, knew that such a daunting task could not be postponed. If she waited another month, every eligible man would be consumed with courting the other Canterian women. Elisa, her next door neighbor, was already the talk of the town. With her golden hair, thin waist, and ample breasts, she attracted men easily. They already had started sending her flowers; petunias, carnations, and roses were delivered every day. Now, her house smelled like a freshly picked garden. Elisa’s mother had asked if the excess flowers could be used as a cocktail garnish or made into perfume. In response, their butler had asserted that all flowers would be used, whether they be dried to place in the pages of a booklet or soaked to make rosewater for Lady Elisa’s baths.

Yet, Elisa yearned for more than these flowers and smelly bathwater. She wanted to find love, fair and true. Her mother could not condone such actions and often lectured her daughter. She would state that, “A woman of status marries a man of the highest status, that is what our family expects of you.” Elisa would sigh. In the dark of those nights, she would shroud herself in shadow, picking petals off the flowers - those futile indicators of a man’s interest that had been left at her door. Sometimes, she would stomp on them, expressing the anger that boiled up inside of her every time her mother and father spoke of her need to marry. In Elisa’s eyes, they were well off...her father was a merchant and last year’s horse betting ventures had doubled their

family’s riches. Why could she not remain home, or flee to become an opera singer? Elisa doubted that the end of society would come about if she avoided marriage and chose to not become a wife.

Yet, there were customs. She was 19. A woman with looks like hers was not allowed to even venture on a walk in private. While Elisa snuck out from time to time, dallying in the meadows neighboring her estate, such actions were risky. If even one neighbor saw her, she would be rumored to have frollicked with a man...because society could not believe a woman would venture out by herself to taste the pure autumn air. Every breath of hers taken outside their house seemed to be an act of rebellion, and Elisa was becoming tired of having her every move needing to be a well kept secret. She sometimes wished that she could be a man, but...the men in Canteria were randomly drafted via a lottery every year to fight the Sanderians. Elisa could barely stand the thought of blood or violence; she could never fight in a war. She assumed she would faint at the first sight of a gunshot wound. As such, she had accepted her femininity, although she questioned the need to become engaged. Although…knowing she would be held in someone’s arms as the ground started shaking...was comforting.

A few months later, Elisa received a proposal from Baron Andres and accepted it. She chose to abide by Canterian customs and become a dutiful wife. While she would always dream of becoming an opera singer, such a path would never be one she could embark upon. However, the question still remained...what would happen to Delphine?

Delphine, comparatively, never received flowers. The men of Canteria did not waste any of their coin on her. She could not blame them. Her family was desperate for her to find any match; the only requisite was financial stability. Delphine’s mother, Lizabeth, did not question when flowers would arrive or whether a man would show up to their doorstep on Saturday mornings. Instead, she pondered when a proposal would be made, whether it be through a letter from a long lost relative or a message from an unknown man across town, embedded in scandal, who was desperate for a bride. In fact, she possessed the belief that Delphine’s impending nuptials would be with someone who lived in scorn, a rich Lord, perhaps? She imagined that such a man would have robbed some young woman of her virginity without a proposal or impregnated a maid. Although, impregnating maids had become more acceptable in the last five years. While gambling often plunged men into ruin, someone who had lost his fortune would not be an optimal option for her eldest daughter. Louise, her youngest, was twelve and Delphine needed to set a good example for her. While twelve was too young for a young woman to become engaged, seventeen was reasonable. Louise had a mere four years left until a man could send for her, and then...well, off she would go. The only requirement was being rich and having some type of status. The same extended to Delphine. There was no courtship needed. In fact, any courtship processes would be frowned upon, as they would delay a wedding and any finances that would be secured by such nuptials. There was always a sense of urgency associated with the courtship process, regardless. Eligible men could always be called alway to fight in the war. It was a mother’s duty to make sure her daughter had a ring on her finger before any husband might perish in a swordfight or bombing.

Lizabeth looked toward the window, seeing a vivid orange sunset peering through its frame. While the day was almost over, a new one was soon to come. She could only hope that tomorrow would bring along a proposal.

---

It was late afternoon. Across town, a divorcee was spending his ex wife’s dowry on another gambling round. Five rounds of cards later, and he had lost the deed to his estate. Delphine remained unengaged and single.

She glanced out the window, with her eyes transfixed on the clouds that dimmed the day. Delphine realized that marriage would dull her shine like a cloud covering the sun. However, hers would be permanent. Marriage was not like a cloud; it did not float away depending on the

state of the weather. Marriage was not puffy, except for the days that your husband made you cry and your eyes puffed up.

Delphine prayed that, at least, her husband-to-be possessed real teeth, not dentures...perhaps a horse. A horse would make the loss of her individual autonomy a bit more bearable. She would ride it through the fields and pretend she was galloping like the cowboys in America. Delphine had even heard that America had cowgirls, although she did not completely understand how a society allowed unmarried women to gallop, jump, and ride to their heart’s content. The Canterians, under no circumstances, would condone that...and they were in a state of disarray due to the current war. Customs were customs.

Hearing a knock on the door to their house, Delphine ventured to the sitting room. Her mother had taught her to immediately sit in the rightmost chair upon any visitor’s arrival. It was yellow and had a pattern of pink polka dots on it. Like the rest of the furniture in their house, it was faded and needed to be replaced. Delphine imagined that, after she was married, her mother would use some of the funds to redecorate. After all, she cared about having a fashionable life more so than she did for her daughter’s wellbeing. Delphine could not imagine having such disregard for another woman. Her mother certainly believed that forcing Delphine to sit in a chair every time there was a caller at the door was appropriate. She wanted to prepare Delphine to meet a male suitor at any moment. She would position her properly, like a portrait to be gazed upon by the men wondering if she was an artistic piece worth the price of marriage.

Delphine knew her betrothed-to-be most likely would want children and could only hope to be a better mother than what she had grown up with. Taking out her coin from her stocking, she clutched it tight, making a pledge to herself. She would never force any daughter of hers into marriage, no matter how desperate the circumstances were. She would rather act as a maid, dedicating her life to waiting on others. She imagined herself washing the clothes of one of the royal families of Canteria or becoming their personal cook. She would challenge herself to make the most delicious chicken broth or curry. While washing clothes, she would dedicate herself to rubbing out every stain, soaking out every smell, and ironing out every wrinkle. Such ventures would keep her content.

In that alternate reality, she would find comfort in befriending other servants, watching the sun rise, and planting flowers. The garden would overflow with those flowers, and she would pretend that she was a different one of them and could switch identities, living the life of whatever flower she pleased. Delphine imagined herself as a pale pink petunia on Tuesday, a glowing sunny flower on Wednesday, and a purple tulip on Thursday. She realized that she felt more content with this fantasy than her current prospects. If it wasn’t for her family, she would gladly choose such a fate. She also was determined to leave Canteria. While she, along with all Canteria’s residents, were used to the bombings, such an unstable life was undesirable.

Delphine’s mother didn’t deserve any of her sympathy, but her five siblings did. How could she let six people be forced out of their home just because she would rather be a maid than be forced into a loveless marriage? In a sense, marriage was like being a maid anyway....waiting on a husband and catering to his demands. However, marriage had no weekly salary; her wedding would mark a transfer of funds to her family, but none would go to her. She was being trapped in a situation where she needed to rely on the money of a stranger to obtain the bare necessities.

While it was no dungeon sentence, it sometimes felt like one. The bracelets that would encircle her wrists as a bride, in her eyes, would be the equivalent of shackles.

Delphine continued sitting for another hour. She was in complete solitude. Her mother had set a rule that she could not leave her chair until being dismissed. She was like a portrait in her frame, immobile. Delphine began fiddling with her thumbs, and started to play with her coin. She held it up to the candle on the table, watching it glint and gleam. She kicked off her shoes and experimented with trying to slip her heels back on without using her hands. Half the time, she failed. Yet, she knew practice makes perfect, and thus continued trying to kick off her shoes and successfully put them back on.

When her mother walked back in, Delphine had one shoe on and one off. She watched her wince, as this was extremely improper...and then, Delphine realized…a man was waiting at the doorway. No wonder her mother was grimacing. She was being unladylike in front of the company! Delphine slowly slipped the remaining shoe on and sat in silence, waiting to hear from either her mother or the unknown man. She was unsure whether she would be chastised or if her slipping on and off of shoes would be ignored to talk about more important matters.

The man was younger than she would have expected for any potential suitor and fairly attractive. She was pleasantly surprised at the prospect of a man within ten years of her age, especially a fairly attractive one, paying her a visit. His lips possessed a slight upward curvature, resulting in the appearance of a constant slight smile. He was blonde, around 6’1, and broad shouldered. Delphine had noticed a limp when he walked into the room and wondered if he had been wounded in the war. At least this man would have escaped with his life, unlike her brother. He spoke first, turning to her mother and complaining, “she’s too thin, I want someone who is curvier...what is that nose?” Delphine saw her mother, Lizabeth, become pale. Turning to the man, she assured him, “Delphine might be lacking in regard to bodily curvature but I assure you, she possesses every ideal quality you would look for in a wife, Lord Barrett. I know that your estate needs a woman to tend to it and you are in need of an heir. She will suit your needs, I am certain of it.”

The man paused, considering her words carefully. Delphine watched him in suspense, knowing that, even if he was a bit arrogant, this “Lord Barrett” possessed more qualities than she could have hoped for in a match. He looked toward her and they locked eyes, blues meeting greens. She held his gaze for the next thirty seconds, until he suddenly broke away.

He turned to her mother and explained that, for his purposes, he thought Lady Elisa would be a better match. He would rather compete against her many suitors for his hand than settle for a dowdy woman like Delphine. She was so thin and fragile that he doubted that she could survive through the birth of a firstborn, let alone the many others he wanted to have. Little Oliver, John, Harry, Noah, Amelia, and Olivia needed a mother of strong will to bring them all into the world. He could not bear to eliminate even one of them from their future lives on his estate. Moreover, that nose...it could simply not be passed on to any offspring. He couldn’t imagine any other man would want his heir to possess such a nose, either. This kicking off of shoes...it was immature. He needed someone more docile as well.

Upon making these remarks, he walked toward the door, opened it, and left. Delphine’s mother was devastated. After taking a few seconds to process the situation, she flew into a rage, yelling at her, “I could never imagine having a more incompetent daughter. Can you not keep your shoes on? Are you five? How did I spend all these years raising you for you to fail the only time we need you to do anything beyond needlework?” She lunged toward Delphine, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her wildly. Delphine looked at her, aghast. She lunged back. The two of them scuffled and ended up on the floor. Delphine’s shoes had fallen off and her dress was torn. One of the yellow ruffles had fallen to the floor. Her hair had fallen out of its carefully made bun and the purple butterfly hair piece was missing. Her mother had a small cut

on her right cheek and tears in her stockings. With strands of hair plastered across her face and a half ripped glove, she was in a state of disarray.

They paused. Delphine’s mother took a few deep breaths and began to apologize, saying how her worry over the family’s financial situation had led her to go too far. She had been overwhelmed with stress and knew that a marriage this early on, without love, was a serious predicament. However, she reminded Delphine...this is what their family needed. They were relying on her to support them in these trying times. Even though she had gone too far and should not have laid a hand on her, it was still Delphine’s duty to accept life’s natural course. She promised that they would buy her a beautiful white bridal gown, with frills and bows. Her mother said she would make the most perfect bride, and more men would come.

Barely hearing these words, Delphine slowly stood up, walked out the door, and started walking. She crossed the street and traveled five blocks north until she reached the nearest job filing center. She asked to see the available forms, and picked one out. Taking a quill in her hand, she wrote her name, date of birth, and address. In the blank spot asking what job position she hoped to apply for, she wrote the word, “MAID.”

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