Leave. Leave. Leave...

  I awoke in a pool of my perspiration. My dreams have been erratic in the coming days. My father usually worked on Saturdays. Today, however, there was supposed to be change. We were invited to the Thomas estate. It was one of the richest families in Media?. They invited my father and I to have lunch. I never enjoyed socialite events. Even if it was just lunch, the high class turn their noses at us even though my father is the one who delivered their babies, wraps wounds and give them their fancy drugs.

  I got dressed quickly peering quickly in the big mirror in our hallway. I must brush my hair, it's a nest. How can I impress the wealthy when my hair looks a mess? I ran a brush from my scalp to my wispy ends. My hair has a mind of its own. It's heavy with natural curls. I brushed thoroughly until the nest, on the top of my head, was soft as silk. My drawer held all my clothing, red always brought out my Italian complexion. I was more pale than my mother before she passed, her skin was the colour of honey at the bottom of a jar. Dark and sweet. I was the shade of sand. White, yet dark in some rays of light with a colour of peach hue. I slipped my head through the red dress over my smock allowing the thick straps of fabric to fall off my shoulder. I tied the corset under my bust, tying the strings tightly around my torso.

  "Father? Where have you hid my shoes?" My bare feet touched the wooden floor, the cold ran through my feet to the tip of my head. My god, why must it be this cold? I made my way to the examing room where my father was, bent over his desk reading up on new techniques of medicine. "Father? Were not you who said we have no time for dilly-dally? And now here you sit, reading. You're starting to look like me." I found my shoes under his desk.

  "I am not sitting, I'm standing. I am merely skimming through my new medical books from London. We are heading out now. The Thomas family has generously sent a carriage for us." He fixed his overcoat around his neck. "Very well. I will await for its arrival. Why are the Thomas family having us for lunch? Are you going to be their permanent physician?" I peered over my father's shoulder reading the title of the medical books. Error of the Mind. A book about disorders that inflict the brain. That a curse or a 'demon' hasn't brought on. Modern medicine has come a long way. Nothing can be simply prayed away.

  ?───? ??? ?───?

  The Thomas estate was like anything I saw in London. Open villas with thousands upon thousands of wild apple trees. A white home bigger than the entire main street of Media?. It was too much. Our carriage stopped abruptly at the front door of the home, as the family and its servants awaited outside the doors.

  "Good afternoon Doctor. Hope all is well." Sir Michael Thomas shook my father's hand as I hopped out of the carriage.

  "That it is Sir Thomas. A thousand thank yous for your generous carriage to escort my daughter and me. This is Bella Donna."

  "Good day. Thank you for inviting us to your loving estate." I reached out for his hand as he laid a kiss on my knuckle. Why must men do this? Cannot any man merely shake a woman's hand just as a man? That is all I desire.

  "No, no. Thank you Bella for joining my family. We have been waiting for such a beauty as yourself to grace my son Arthur and his mother Eugenia." He turned to show his stone-faced wife and boy he calls a son. He was possibly my age, but he stood as if he was cut at the knees. Wobbly with a fascination with the ground beneath him. He only caught a quick glance at me as I saw through him. He was no man at all. Just a boy in his father's rather large shadow.

  "Bella Donna. Is that your mother's maiden name?" Eugenia, Michaels's wife showed up out of nowhere behind him. "Um...no, my lady. Bella Donna is Italian for beautiful woman." I wiped little strands of fabric away from my shoulder. Perhaps I was uncomfortable under these circumstances. "Awe! I see, how exotic. Your skin is less pale than mine. Some might think you are a labourer haha!" Hmph...so you see simple farm hands, who are making a living just like my father as less than? Well, this isn't going to end well. "At least my lady, they will know I work for what I earn." My father nudged me peering down at my shoes. "Please excuse her, I believe the sun has some effects on her."

  "Yes, I suppose, as is my wife surely. Please, come into our home. We'll allow these kids to get to know one another." The servants scurried into the massive home before we entered. Heads down as though they were stricken with the sickness of shame. It wasn't shame however, it was fear. Fear? What must another human endure to be washed over with that expression? If the servants are fearful then what does that entail for me? A mere visitor already being judged by the women of the home? Must be a waste of existence to be stored like dolls in this home. Must be.

  Inside the Thomas estate was something only to be seen by nobles in England. Lavish gold stair casings with red trim leading up the stairs. Rugs the colour of the forest canopy adjacent to the entrance. It was too extreme, to say the least. Everything screamed wealth to the highest standard. This family owed Media? but, have they seen how their dear people live? It was pitiful. They live up on the hill as they peer their nose down at us. Townspeople who work to live, not just live. Taking up space.

  "Please, join us in the dining wing. Our servants have prepared a roast for your arrival." Mrs. Thomas held put her hand dragging a train of fabric down the wooded hall. It was as though she had no feet. "Arthur? Why don't you sit next to Bella? You two should become acquainted." The dining area was grandiose, to say the least. Bigger than the room were once in. I was so busy nit-picking over how stupid everything the house possessed I didn't see this lanky piece of straw called a boy was doing before me. He held out his hand awaiting my grasp. I rejected brushing our shoulders together as I took my seat with no help. He waited on hand and foot. A servant pushed his seat out, let him sit then proceed to push the seat in. Another person placed the napkin on his lap.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  How pathetic! Can he wipe his ass too?

  Arthur and I were the same age but I looked older than him. I sure as hell acted older than him. His face knew he wasn't even man enough to grow facial hair. He had a baby face. Arthur Thomas was a man-child still holding his mother's skirt.

  "So Bell, how are enjoying Media? so far?" Thomas lifted his glass as the servant poured wine. I denied to partake. Only sticking to the water put out for us once we sat down. "My name is Bella, and I haven't been here long enough to enjoy what your town has to offer."

  "What have you been doing then? Didn't my father say you were here for a few days?"

  "Yes, but I work for my father. He needs help in his practice."

  "You! Haha! What do you do? Sweep?" He chuckled, his mother overheard our conversation joining in the joke. Funny, I didn't think it was humorous.

  "No actually. I label all over my father's medicines. Instruct patients on how to apply or use the medicine and read my father's medical books to further my understanding of the task at hand. So no Arthur, I have no time to sweep." My father sat quietly unknowingly what to say. The rest of the room fell silent until Lady Thomas arose lifting a glass. "Let us make a toast, to our families coming together." Her husband, my father, myself and Arthur rose a glass.

  "Here! Here!" The men cheered. "Cheers...I suppose." I squeaked out allowing the rest of the air trapped in my lungs to leave my body. It was as though the entire room was happy but me. I was dragged here, I wanted to stay home. Not to be put on display like a show pony for everyone to gawk at. I resemble everyone else, but I speak another language to him. A freak of nature I presume.

  "So Bella Donna, tell me, besides helping your father with his practice. What other things do you do around the home?" Lady Thomas dug into her plate. The rich are gluttonous in not only wealth but food as well. Thomas's plates were full of food. Vegetables, roast, gravy, bread. I only took small portions as did my father. My father has theories that eating too many rich and salty foods is the reason for weight gain and early predisposition to death. The heart cannot take it.

  "I only help Father in his practice. Nothing more."

  "Cooking or cleaning dear. That was the question."

  "I do not cook but I do clean. I'm used to it since my father's practice was in a different building than our home. My brothers cooked more than I."

  "Well, that should have been reversed, my dear. My Arthur is a hungry man." That was apparent. Your son hasn't taken a breath since he picked up his fork. He's not eating, more or less shovelling in a hole. "No matter, you can be taught. What are your hobbies? Painting? Music? Sewing?"

  "No, my Lady, I read in my spare time."

  "Read?! A lady reading? Abe! You aware of this?" Sir Thomas spoke up as he swallowed his heap of food. Both of the Thomas's were bigger than most. Heavier. They were not something special to look at.

  "Well..um yes. My eyesight isn't as good as it used to be and with my boys off to seek higher studies, I needed assistance with some medical books. It was out of my hands. I had to teach her to read." My father was tense, he shook his knife in his hand trying to cut into meat.

  "I see...it's not heard of a young woman to read. Not willingly." Lady Thomas's jokes were flat and crude. As though she always needs an audience to take her side.

  "Is that from personal experience Lady Thomas? Not willing to higher yourself on an intellectual standpoint?"

  "The only standpoint on higher myself my dear is God. The only book you should be reading."

  "At least you know how to read that."

  "Bella!" My father's voice boomed. The rest of the men chuckled. They wish to meet me? Meet me they shall. "Please excuse her, I have been loose with disciplining her in her older years."

  "No matter. We can correct it after the wedding."

  "There's a wedding? Who's?" Stupid question to ask of me, but staring into my father's eyes gripping the glass of my cup could have shattered it into a million little pieces. The pain of that was temporary. The pain of rightfully knowing this was a setup of an arranged marriage is worse.

  "Why yours of course. You will marry Thomas. It's the reason we are ever here my dear." Sir Thomas spoke wiping away the grease and gravy from his large stomach.

  "Marry who? Him? No. Father! No!"

  "Yes, Bella! This is the way. This is how it should have been done a long time ago! You ought to be married by now!"

  "My dear, my son Thomas is a lovely man and will make you a glorious wife with children."

  "Glorious? Glorious! For what? To end up like you on your high pedestal?! To have anything but a seat at this table with your boy alone is my own personal hell. Let alone to bare children!" I stood up from the table slamming my glass down. "Enough Bella! This is going to happen! This young man has asked for your hand, and I have agreed. You are engaged, Bella."

  "Oh forgive me, I thought I had my own mind and my own decisions?"

  "I am so sorry Sir and Lady Thomas, you will have to excuse us. I think it's been a little too late for Bella. She seems tired." The men nodded in agreeance. My father ran around the big table grabbing my arm to pull me out the door to whisk me away.

  ?───? ??? ?───?

  "What in hell's name is wrong with you?! The Thomas's invited us into their home and served us a lovely meal. Why have you embarrassed us like this?" He slammed the door of our home behind him.

  "I specifically told you I did not want you to ambush me on the subject of marriage! I cannot believe you happily went through with this meeting! I spoke to you about this subject on multiple occasions! I cannot fathom what possessed you to sell me off to the man-child!"

  "I am your father! I make your decisions! You are a woman! I should have raised it as such! This is gods will. This is what women do. They marry and bear children."

  "God's will? What does god have to do with you arranging a marriage I have no say in!"

  "This is God's green earth! We live on his land! We obey his commands! Women must marry! That is the end of this discussion!" My father turned his back running off to his study.

  Goddamn him! I have no say? No voice? I am forced to marry that man-child? No. To hell with that! Once my father goes to his chambers to rest for the night, I will leave.