Undying

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“Victoria! Please, your father has been kept waiting long enough, and by no means will I excuse you if we are the last to arrive at the Campbell’s,” my mother cried from the hallway.

“Coming.”

Of Mr and Mrs Campbell’s five daughters, four are bothersome and unsightly. Hence, I dreaded the thought of a whole day spent in their company, knowing that this entire charade was purely to observe the new occupants of Hayworth house, Mr and Mrs Barton. Their arrival had caused quite an unnecessary enthusiasm due solely to the fact that Mr and Mrs Barton has brought with them their eligible son, Charles Barton.

The Campbell girls need not have worried about me attempting to seek Charles Barton’s interest; I have no desire to marry.

I would never demean myself to compete for any man’s attention; my thoughts on marriage are quite grim: a man-made institution, of a life sentence in thrall to another person’s needs and wants. I have seen all too well the repercussions of a tedious match and would be content to squander my days unaccompanied than to bear that existence.

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