dinner off and licked clean after…”
Matilda stopped listening as she thought about the envy on Sylvie’s face. She knew the expression all too well. She ha d worn it herself many times as she had looked at couples holding hands in public, looking into each other’s eyes, and smiling. Even people who were hanging out with friends and laughing together, without a care in the world, caused her to feel a tiny twinge of jealousy. Now, somehow, she was the lucky person. How had it happened?
She thought back to the conversation she’d had with her sister the night before.
“You’re being careful, aren’t you?” Caroline had asked her as they chatted via Skype. “You haven’t got into any scrapes?”
“No, of course not,” Matilda has said. “I’ve been doing great at work and been taking in a lot of the sights around the city, but that’s it, I swear.”
“How are you getting on with Colin?” Caroline queried. “You are making sure not to go out without him, aren’t you? You never know in America — it might be dangerous.”
“Caroline, it’s the safest city I’ve ever been to — much safer than London,” Matilda assured her. “I couldn’t get in trouble if I tried.”
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Caro line said. “There’s something…you seem, I don’t know, different. I can’t put my finger on it.”
“I’m happy, Caroline,” Matilda translated for her. “Could that possibly be it?”
“I guess,” Caroline said slowly. “I’ve never seen you in this mood before. It’s like you’re looking at everything optimistically, I guess. It’s so different for you. You always seemed so restless at home. Nothing any of us did could make you happy.”
“I finally have some freedom,” Matilda said. “It’s refreshing. Was it so surprising that I wasn’t happy whenever we did anything at home? A restaurant always meant other people gawping at us, and a trip to any public place was always more of a photo opportunity than a nice day out. Now I can be myself and go where I like without so much as a second glance.”
“It just seems like it’s more than that. There’s not a guy, is there?” Caroline asked shrewdly.
“Please,” Matilda scoffed, putting on a masterful expression of scorn. “I work in an archive full of people three times my age. The only person anywhere near my age is Sylvie, and she’s at least in her thirties, probably her forties.”
“If you say so,” Caroline said, not entirely convinced. “Oh, by the way, I thought you’d want to know that daddy’s arranged three interviews for me this week.”
“Jobs?” Matilda asked blankly. She didn’t think that Caroline wanted to do any work outside of the charity events she organized for the family.
“No, idiot — marriage interviews,” Caroline said. “I’m 22 already. Daddy thinks it’s high time I found a suitable husband.”
“So you’re letting him arrange your marriage? Caroline, this is the modern day,” Matilda said, astounded. “Even our cousins got to pick their own spouses.”
“I know, but I agree with him that it’s the best way to find someone suitable,” Caroline said primly.
“Oh, Caroline,” Matilda sighed. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”
Since that conversation, Matilda had been wondering whether, but for her decision to move to America, her father would be trying to do the same thing for her. She could envision the type of marriage interview Caroline would be sitting through. Men in their late thirties, dried-up and dull, chosen for their political importance, their business connections or simply their money and reputation. They’d do their duty by her and breed little heirs to the throne, but behind her back, they’d be having dirty little affairs with their secretaries whilst Caroline sat at home, lonely, never even knowing what love felt like.
Matilda wouldn’t trade in what she had with Damian for that lifeless political world. How could
Matilda stopped listening as she thought about the envy on Sylvie’s face. She knew the expression all too well. She ha d worn it herself many times as she had looked at couples holding hands in public, looking into each other’s eyes, and smiling. Even people who were hanging out with friends and laughing together, without a care in the world, caused her to feel a tiny twinge of jealousy. Now, somehow, she was the lucky person. How had it happened?
She thought back to the conversation she’d had with her sister the night before.
“You’re being careful, aren’t you?” Caroline had asked her as they chatted via Skype. “You haven’t got into any scrapes?”
“No, of course not,” Matilda has said. “I’ve been doing great at work and been taking in a lot of the sights around the city, but that’s it, I swear.”
“How are you getting on with Colin?” Caroline queried. “You are making sure not to go out without him, aren’t you? You never know in America — it might be dangerous.”
“Caroline, it’s the safest city I’ve ever been to — much safer than London,” Matilda assured her. “I couldn’t get in trouble if I tried.”
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Caro line said. “There’s something…you seem, I don’t know, different. I can’t put my finger on it.”
“I’m happy, Caroline,” Matilda translated for her. “Could that possibly be it?”
“I guess,” Caroline said slowly. “I’ve never seen you in this mood before. It’s like you’re looking at everything optimistically, I guess. It’s so different for you. You always seemed so restless at home. Nothing any of us did could make you happy.”
“I finally have some freedom,” Matilda said. “It’s refreshing. Was it so surprising that I wasn’t happy whenever we did anything at home? A restaurant always meant other people gawping at us, and a trip to any public place was always more of a photo opportunity than a nice day out. Now I can be myself and go where I like without so much as a second glance.”
“It just seems like it’s more than that. There’s not a guy, is there?” Caroline asked shrewdly.
“Please,” Matilda scoffed, putting on a masterful expression of scorn. “I work in an archive full of people three times my age. The only person anywhere near my age is Sylvie, and she’s at least in her thirties, probably her forties.”
“If you say so,” Caroline said, not entirely convinced. “Oh, by the way, I thought you’d want to know that daddy’s arranged three interviews for me this week.”
“Jobs?” Matilda asked blankly. She didn’t think that Caroline wanted to do any work outside of the charity events she organized for the family.
“No, idiot — marriage interviews,” Caroline said. “I’m 22 already. Daddy thinks it’s high time I found a suitable husband.”
“So you’re letting him arrange your marriage? Caroline, this is the modern day,” Matilda said, astounded. “Even our cousins got to pick their own spouses.”
“I know, but I agree with him that it’s the best way to find someone suitable,” Caroline said primly.
“Oh, Caroline,” Matilda sighed. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”
Since that conversation, Matilda had been wondering whether, but for her decision to move to America, her father would be trying to do the same thing for her. She could envision the type of marriage interview Caroline would be sitting through. Men in their late thirties, dried-up and dull, chosen for their political importance, their business connections or simply their money and reputation. They’d do their duty by her and breed little heirs to the throne, but behind her back, they’d be having dirty little affairs with their secretaries whilst Caroline sat at home, lonely, never even knowing what love felt like.
Matilda wouldn’t trade in what she had with Damian for that lifeless political world. How could
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