Arno offered me his hand. The message was clear.
Come with me.
But where? Well, I certainly wasn’t going to be so stupid as to ask that question. If my older brother had come all this way specifically to see me, then there was only one place we could possibly be going. I knew that I could reject his offer outright, but...
“Hmm...” I murmured. “But if I don’t go, it only makes the situation all the more pitiful for you.”
The school day was still ongoing, but public schools were fairly generous in this area. Some students left partway through the day to help their families and such, and doing so was fine, so long as it didn’t impact your grades or cause the school any trouble.
“I’ll need you to inform the school about all of this,” I said.
“We’ll make sure that the necessary people are informed,” replied Arno.
So we boarded the carriage, and I sat opposite my brother. Riding in a carriage after so long reminded me of just how convenient they were. As I stared out the window it struck me then, quite deeply, that until I had been driven out of the family, the act of riding carriages had been just another forgettable part of daily life.
“Karen, are you receiving an adequate amount to cover your daily living expenses?” Arno asked.
“When I left ho...er...the Kirsten family, I received quite the sum,” I replied. “It meets my needs. I’m certainly not starving, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“But what about clothes? From what I can tell, I gather that you don’t have much in the way of a full wardrobe.”
“What? But you haven’t even seen... Oh, I see. You haven’t seen yourself, but you nonetheless have eyes.”
Those eyes belonged to Achim, Arno’s foster brother, who currently sat by my brother’s side.
“Ordinary families don’t have a different outfit for every day of the week,” I said, asserting that my wardrobe, or lack thereof, was a nonissue. “And besides, it’s not like I’m going wild and dirtying what I already own. I don’t need a full wardrobe for school.”
Anyone who boasted a wide range of flashy outfits at a public school would only make themselves a source of ire. A difference in terms of noble and general sensibilities, I suppose.
Here in the privacy of his carriage, Arno spoke without the strained tension from earlier. I felt myself relaxing, safe in the knowledge that he did not despise me.
“And how is our sister?” I asked.
“So lively and energetic that it’s quite a bother. She’s trying to manage the entire household, and we’ve our hands full trying to keep her under control.”
“That certainly sounds like Gerda.”
My older sister was a beautiful young woman. Lustrous black hair, smooth white skin; at first glance, she appeared the portrait of a gentle and placid nobleman’s daughter. In reality, however, her gaze overflowed with an unquenchable vigor. While many said that her strong will was her lone fatal flaw, that same fortitude was the very reason girls looked up to her.
“Father has been worried about you,” Arno said.
“Is that so?” I said, unable to stop the icy edge in each word.
I knew immediately that I’d put my foot in it. My brother fell silent, and Achim looked suddenly uncomfortable. I tried to play it down by turning my gaze outside, but it did no good; the rest of our trip to the Kirsten home was spent in silence.
Though there was an air of nostalgia to it now, the Kirsten household was your typical noble manor. The grounds were surrounded by a lattice fence, and when we passed through the main gates we were met by the sight of a scrupulously well-kept garden. The road from the main gate to the front door was paved with stone. All of this put the Kirstens clearly at the higher end of the middle-class nobility.
The sight of the house and its surrounding environment brought back memories, both fond and unpleasant alike. Sentimental was not the word I would have used for my feelings as I passed through the front door, where I was met by a white-haired butler who bowed respectfully. The head servant, who had scolded me terribly strictly in the past, had a face on the verge of tears. I felt suddenly awkward, as though I should’ve apologized. These two had given me a plethora of sweets when I had finally left the manor for a different life.
We headed directly to the living room, where our family had once often gathered. Now the room held my father, my uncle and auntie, and a host of other relatives. I was left confused by it all. Had I just walked straight into some kind of deliberate stress interview?
“Long time no see, everyone!” I cried.
I won’t deny that I was a touch, shall we say, peeved.
I had considered a more formal, well-mannered greeting, but when my relatives had looked at me like a stinking, dirty rag left on an otherwise clean table, it angered me. You might call it childish, but guess what?
I was, quite literally, a child.
My mother was also in attendance, but as usual, she sat quietly in her place, observing me as one might a stranger. She nodded politely as I was shown to my seat. My father quieted everyone down and turned to me.
“It has been a long time, Karen,” he said.
His voice hadn’t always been so cold and unfeeling. He was a man with a deeper, more generous heart, and if Arno’s words were to be believed, then he was speaking this way on account of all the relatives present.
“Yes, it has indeed,” I said.
There was no trivial conversation to be had; my father got straight to the point.
“Gerda is getting married,” he said.
“Congratulations are in order.”
“Her husband is the nation’s king.”
“Well, isn’t that just won...nnngh?!”
This was astounding news, though given my sister’s beauty, also plausible.
Hold on just a moment. Isn’t the king almost fifty? And more importantly, he already has a wife.
My father nodded, reading the confusion on my features.
“More precisely, Gerda will become the king’s second wife. His concubine.”
“Oh. But...how in the world did it happen?”
“The king proposed, and Gerda accepted of her own volition.”
The king proposed to her. That’s my sister for you.
“There was, however, one condition: Gerda flatly refused to become the king’s concubine unless your honor was restored. She said that if her conditions weren’t met, she’d join a convent instead.”
Wait. Seriously, wait. I’m happy my sister feels that way, but wait.
“The king thus promised to ensure that your honor was restored,” said my father, once again reading my expression.
“Huh...” I uttered.
“The head family thus issued their order. As of today, Karen, you are once again a member of the Kirsten family.”
Gerda! Gerdaaaa!
I could barely utter even a single word. It was then that two portraits were placed in front of me. I looked up, puzzled, and saw a troubled look etched into my father’s face.
“That brings us here,” he said, his face suddenly pale. “Being that you are of age, the head family declared it time you found a suitable marriage partner.”
My uncle placed his hand softly on my father’s shoulder.
“Allow me to take it from here,” he whispered.
I felt a touch of relief flush through me when I realized that none of this was what my father himself wanted. I took the two portraits in hand and looked at them.
“So the head family’s idea of restoring my honor is to hitch me to one of these two options, yes?”
“Karen!” snapped my uncle. “Watch your mouth!”
I matched his attitude with a silent glare of my own. Did he think I didn’t know better? One of the portraits was of a young man in his mid-twenties. Though I couldn’t speak for what he was like in person, in the portrait he was handsome, with long blond hair. The kind of good looks that left you moaning. The other portrait was of, no matter how much you squinted, an old man. He had a charming, friendly air about him.
The plan seemed obvious: ditch the old man and go with blondie.
My auntie pinched my uncle’s thigh. She must have realized that my overbearing uncle was only going to succeed in making me angry.
“Do you mind if I explain things, Karen?” asked my aunt softly.
In a calm manner, my aunt told me about the men in the portraits. The young man was from a distinguished family. He was a knight with a very bright future. The older man had retired to the countryside. He was a widower and lord of a frontier region; a margrave. My aunt went on in far greater detail, but she spoke almost exclusively of the younger man. I was young myself, after all. She also added that if I chose the young man over the older gentleman, I could also remain in the Kirsten household.
Oh, what’s that? You’re wondering who I picked?
Well, after some careful thought, I looked directly at my father. I felt that this was the last place on earth he wanted to be, surrounded by all his relatives like this.
“I am to choose one of these two men, yes?” I asked.
“Yes,” said my father, choosing to cast the sorrow in his eyes away from my own.
And so I pointed down at one of the portraits.
One month later, I stood tall and proud inside a countryside manor.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance!”
Before me was a man who was easily over sixty. My new husband.
As for exactly why he was my choice, we’ll get to that in due time.