Arranged Read online

  Arranged

  Jessica Spears

  Alison closed her eyes, trying to shut out the world around her. She was old enough to understand that something was wrong, though no one believed it. They insisted on keeping everything hush-hush, as if she couldn't hear them. As if she hadn't noticed that her father hadn't come home.

  People she had never met before hurried around her house, all with bleak expressions on their faces. Needless to say, it was obvious that something going on. The only adult present that she knew was her grandmother Dorothy, who seemed to be in charge of the chaos, though even she refused to talk about what was going on.

  How could they think she wouldn't notice? Something had happened to her father, something no one was willing to discuss with an eight year old.

  For as long as she could remember, it had only been her and her father. There were never this many people around, even during the holidays. Every once in a while, a woman friend of her father's would come for dinner, but after all was said and done, Alison was her father's girl; the only woman in his life.

  A man with a sharp black outfit with a matching black briefcase was the last to enter the house. All of the adults followed him into the formal dining room to discuss the matter at hand. Alison took a seat on the stairs, not too far from the dining room door. Just because she was young, didn't mean she was stupid. Her grandmother had told her to stay in her room. Alison, however, had other plans. If no one would tell her, then she was going to have to find out on her own.

  The maids only glanced at her disapprovingly as they walked by. It was safe to say that her father was well off in this world. He was one of the founders of a factory that created and traded goods all over the country; she had even heard her father making arrangements to trade with Russia soon. By the way everyone was excited by the news, she assumed trading with them was a good thing.

  She cradled her floppy stuffed rabbit to her chest; it was the only thing she had left from her mother, who had died after delivering Alison. Now, without her father, she was an orphan. She figured this was the very reason that the meeting had been called.

  The hum of conversation ceased, and Alison perked up, leaning her tiny body toward the door.

  "His will states…," someone said in a deep booming voice. Alison could picture the man in the black outfit standing at the head of the table. "The property is to go to Alison when she reaches the age of 21."

  "She will not know what to do with a house!" Someone interrupted. A few more people tried to protest, but were quieted.

  "She will be under the supervision of her guardian," he cleared his throat and continued reading the will, "The horses go to Lady Isabel. Half of the bonds in the bank are to be Alison's at age 18 and the rest when she turns 21."

  More protests. This time, they weren't quieted as quickly.

  "And who will get the girl?" Grandmother Dorothy asked, her old voice rising above the rest.

  The chatter stopped as everyone listened intently to the answer. "He wished that you would raise her, Madame Dorothy."

  Not a sound, then, "That's preposterous. I am a 40-year-old woman. What am I supposed to do with a child?"

  A few voices interrupted, but were quickly quieted. "There is more. He states that if the first guardian is unable to see to such things, then the responsibility of the girl is passed to Jackson Forbush, his older brother."

  A stunned silence filled the room. "Please sir, there must be some sort of mistake," a man spoke up.

  Alison pulled her stuffed rabbit closer. Why doesn't anyone want me?

  "No. I read it just as it is written here. Mr. Forbush, your brother wished to have you raise little Alison. He also wished for a quarter of his business proceeds to go to whoever raises her."

  Another stunned silence, but this one was laced with greed.

  "Alison will own half of the business at age 21, and the other investors are to keep their share."

  "Does the Will say anything else?" Dorothy asked.

  "Mostly everything is to be allotted to Alison at her becoming 21."

  More angry voices, but Alison had heard enough. With her rabbit clutched tightly in her hand, she ran up the stairs to her bedroom, closing the door quietly and in turn closing out all of the adults who didn't care about her. They didn't seem to care about her suffering. They only cared about her father's money.

  She hurried to the window seat and curled against the pillows in the corner. Her father used to love reading her stories here, watching the world below. She sighed heavily as her emerald green eyes watched the rain fall and fill the puddles in the cobble streets. The weather matched her mood perfectly. She wanted nothing more than to have her father's carriage come up the drive, announcing his return. He would run to her and hold her in his strong arms. He would kick these people out of their house and it would be just the two of them again, as it should be.

  What's going to happen to me? It was a question that no eight-year-old should ever have to ask herself. She had never met her father's older brother, but if her father was trusting her to him, that meant he wasn't a bad man, right? The only member of her father's family that she'd ever met was her grandmother.

  Suddenly, people were leaving the house. Alison watched as the carriage drivers shielded their heads from the rain as their owners rushed inside and demanded they leave. A few men hurried to their carriage, arguing. She watched as the wheels splashed in the puddles and disappeared down the path.

  Then there was a knock on the door. Grandmother Dorothy entered, standing silently at the door until Alison turned to face her. "You need to pack your things. You will be traveling to your new home tonight."

  Alison lowered her eyes, daring to ask what no one was willing to tell her. "Where is my father?"

  Dorothy pursed her lips as she thought about how to answer. "He…had an accident…"

  "What kind of accident?" Her tiny voice shook.

  "He won't be coming home my dear."

  Alison had sensed that something was terribly wrong, but she hadn't expected everything to be so final. Tears clouded her vision as she stared at her grandmother's feet.

  Dorothy put a hand on her granddaughters shoulder. "You are going to live with Jackson. You have to be a good girl for him and mind your manners."

  Alison nodded, trying to keep her tears at bay, failing.

  Dorothy released her granddaughter and grabbed a travel case from the closet. She only glanced at the child a few times, as she began to fill the case with clothes, brushes, soaps, shoes, and a blanket. She insisted that they would get Alison's toys later. However, Alison held her bunny close, refusing to part with it.

  Without a moment to lose, Dorothy gripped her granddaughter's hand and led her down the stairs. Waiting by the front door was a man with jet-black hair and a sharply trimmed beard. He looked impatiently down at Alison. "We need to leave before the rain floods the streets."

  Dorothy handed the travel case to Jackson who headed out the door with it. She helped the child into a shawl and tied a bonnet to her head. Before anything else, Alison ran into the back hall, hugging the maid woman that was standing in the shadows there. The woman crouched and hugged the child back. "Be a good girl for Mr. Jackson."

  Alison nodded, wiping more tears. Dorothy cleared her throat. The two separated and with a heavy heart, Alison headed for the door. This would be the last she would see of this house for a long time.

  Everything was happening so quickly. It was a lot for her little mind to wrap around. Alison climbed into the carriage, pressing her face to the window as they pulled away, and watched her house shrink into the distance.

  [9 years later]

  Alison watched as a carriage pulled into the driveway and rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe Jackson was making her
do this. Alison was 17, in a few months she'd be 18, and now her uncle had insisted on setting up an arranged marriage. She was only a few months away from receiving half of her father's money. He knew little about her plans for the money. And as such, he insisted on finding her the proper husband who can keep her in line and assume responsibility for the money. "It is improper for a young woman, such as you, to have so much money just lying around," he said.

  During the nine years she had lived with him, they'd never grown close; it was as if she were a pest that he had to tolerate. A few days after arriving to the manor, she realized she was going to have to take care of herself. Whenever she was hungry, she fed herself. She clothed herself, washed herself. She did everything without ever bothering Jackson.

  She tried her best to stay out of his way. He was a strict man, who continuously mumbled to himself that he didn't have time to watch little girls. In her loneliness, the only friend she found was the woods that surrounded the manor. Not a day went by when she didn't take a walk and lose herself in the trees, if only for a little while.

  At dinner, about a month ago, Jackson brought up the idea that Alison would have no idea what to do with so much money. He purposed that he arrange a marriage to an eligible man who could take care of her money, her property and her.

  He refused to listen to her protests. Once his mind was made up, there was no stopping him. It didn't matter to him that she wanted to marry for love.

  So, here she was, refusing to leave her room to meet the latest suitor he had found. The others had given up after her constant refusals; this one would be no different.

  It disgusted her that everyone was all for this. Even grandmother Dorothy had come to the manor to give Alison lessons on being a lady. Her lessons were a waste of time. Alison's father had paid Jackson enough to insure his daughter had a proper education.

  Over the years, she'd had private tutor after private tutor. He would not even consider a boarding school. In fact, he hardly let her travel with him to London. He insisted that she had better things to do than to fill her head with the nonsense of city-life. Alison begged to differ. She enjoyed town, the sights, and the activity. It was such a change from her boring life.

  For someone who insisted he had no time for children, Jackson made sure he controlled as much of Alison's life as he could.

  How did he expect her to find love if he never let her out? Maybe that was the point. She was growing older every year. It was unusual for a girl to be unmarried at this age. Moreover, how did Jackson ever expect to find love if he himself never softened toward anyone?

  Alison knew that her father would never make her marry anyone she didn't want to. But Jackson wasn't anything like her father. Neither was grandmother Dorothy. It was as if her father did not fit with his family. Maybe that is why she had never met Jackson before that night, nine years ago.

  A young man stepped out of the carriage, straightening his jacket. Alison's green eyes followed him as he made his way to the door. Jackson met him on the first step, shaking his hand and ushering him inside. He is the son of one of the men Jackson worked with.

  She waited until she heard the door shut, then opened her window and climbed out. If Jackson insisted on pushing suitors at her, then she insisted on not making it easy for him. She gathered her dress around her and slid carefully over the patio roof shingles. She could only imagine the freedom men had with wearing pants. This would have been much easier.

  When she reached the edge of the patio roof, she grabbed a hold of the floral gate that lined the side of the house. The roses were in full bloom, but she didn't mind a few pokes from the thorns. Before she knew it, her feet touched down and she ducked under the large living room windows.

  She could hear the young man and Jackson talking as Jackson sent a maid to fetch her from her room. Without a moment to lose, Alison took off into the trees. For years, she'd been playing in this wood, and as such, she acquired many hiding places. They came in handy on days like this.

  She walked quickly through the trees. She knew she was going to get into big trouble for this, but she didn't care. She had to hold off, if only for a few more months and she would have enough money to be her own person. She wouldn't have to ask Jackson for anything. She could take lessons in town and learn archery and sword fighting. She could buy stylish ribbons for her hair. Maybe she could even make some friends.

  She found her favorite tree and climbed up a few branches to where she was unseen, sitting comfortably against the trunk, letting her mind drift towards the clouds. This wasn't the first time she wondered what her life would have been like if her father were still alive.

  Instead of feeling bad for herself, she thought ahead to when she would finally be allowed to live in her father's house. She would hire a nice staff, not like her uncle's. His maids were as stiff as he was. She could imagine shopping in the town, maybe finally traveling farther than London. She wouldn't have to study anything she didn't want to. All she did here was math, literature, piano lessons, French lessons, and etiquette. It never changed. Once she was free from all that, she planned to live her life the way she wished.

  "Miss Alison?" A voice called.

  She rolled her eyes. If they thought she was dumb enough to answer, they were surely mistaken.

  "Miss Alison?" The voice called again. It sounded like one of Jackson's maids. "Your uncle wishes to see you."

  Alison made herself comfortable in her tree. She knew she was rebelling, but she had good reason. She knew her uncle was only setting up the arranged marriage because he wanted to control her inheritance. If he chose her husband, Jackson could tell him what to do, where to invest her money.

  The maid called a few more times then gave up. Alison didn't move from her post for about an hour before she decided she was in enough trouble.

  As she peeked around the house, she found that the carriage was gone, which most likely meant that her suitor was also gone. She smiled to herself and straightened her dress before walking casually into the house.

  Almost as soon as she entered the house, she was pounced on by an older maid. "Where have you been Madame?" She had stern lines written into her face. "The master wishes to see you."

  Alison put a look of innocence on her face. "I went for a walk. What does he need?"

  The maid eyed her suspiciously. "You were to meet young Mr. James Camden today."

  Alison's eyes grew wide as she continued with her lies. "That was today?!"

  "Yes," a deep, angry voice interrupted from the doorway to the study. The maid bowed her head and excused herself as Alison turned to face her uncle.

  "I went for a−"

  "Yes, I heard your excuse already," he said lowly. His eyes simmered with anger. "How dare you embarrass me like that."

  "I don't know wh−"

  "You knew very well that he was arriving today, and still you left."

  Being caught in her lie, Alison lifted her chin. "I have already told you what I think of arranged suitors and marriages."

  "And I do not see how your opinion matters. As long as you are living in my house, you will obey me without question," Jackson snarled. His face had taken on a red tint.

  Alison grit her teeth. How dare he try to control me like that. "I will not! In a few months−" Her speech was cut off by the palm of his hand. She grabbed her cheek in surprise as she stared up at her uncle. His nostrils were flaring as he tried to regain control of himself.

  "So long as you live in my house, you will obey me," he repeated dangerously. "Young Camden has come to woe you. I will not have you ruin that." He took a deep breath. Alison continued to stare up at him. He had never laid a hand on her before. She usually did pretty good to stay out of his way, but her rebellion was causing an extreme reaction from him.

  "He is from a very important family," he continued. "You should be thankful that such a match was made," he said, trying to sooth his guilty conscience from hitting her. "Now go to your room and dress for dinner. I expect yo
u to be kind to young Camden."

  "He's still here?" she asked hesitantly, trying not to anger him anymore than she already had.

  "Yes. I have invited him to stay for a week."

  The color drained from her face as she lowered her eyes and nodded, playing the obedient child. She quickly turned and headed to her room. A week?! How am I supposed to avoid him for a week? And more over, she couldn't believe that Jackson had smacked her. Her father would never have hit her. Then again, her father would never make her do any of this.

  She stalled for as long as she could. The maids had summoned her to dinner a while ago. She knew that if she waited any longer, her uncle would come for her and who knew what he would do.

  So, with a deep breath, she opened the door to the dining room. Both men present stood as she walked in.

  Her eyes brushed over her uncle, who looked slightly annoyed, then drifted to James Camden. Everyone called him the young Camden because he was the youngest of six boys; however, he was a good five years older than Alison.

  He rushed forward to pull out her chair, staring at her. She looked away awkwardly. "Thank you."

  He took his seat again, and Alison got a good look at him. James had dark blonde hair, brown eyes, and a nose that didn't quite fit his face. He had a nice smile, but something else was off; the smile didn't make it to his eyes. He wasn't ugly, but she still didn't want to marry him.

  The dinner was served and an awkward silence hung in the air. The only constant sound was silverware against plates. Alison was used to silence. She had dinner with her uncle every night, and he hardly said a word to her. But this dinner was so much different. James had not taken his eyes from her since she had entered. Every time she glanced up, he was staring at her with appreciation and wonder.

  Alison had dark red hair, something she inherited from her mother, green eyes, from her father, and pale skin that looked like porcelain. When she was younger, people would ask to paint her, insisting that she looked just like a porcelain doll.

  Now, at the age of 17, she had grown into a beautiful woman. Since Jackson had no idea what to do with a young woman, Grandmother Dorothy had taken it upon herself to keep Alison up on the latest fashion. Alison never cared for the big frilly dresses everyone seemed so fond of. She would prefer a simple, comfortable dress. She only wore the big ones when her grandmother was around, or when guests were here.