Arranged Marriage
After Arabella settled back into the Wycliffe estate, she spent the past few days resting from the exhausting graduation ceremonies and the six long years of diligent study. The tranquility was short-lived, however, as her father, the Marquess, decided it was time for a serious conversation.
"My lady, are you awake? Your father instructed me to inform you that he wishes to see you in the drawing room. He has matters to discuss," the butler called out gently.
Of course, Arabella was still deep in slumber. After all, no one expected her to be brimming with energy following the culmination of her academic endeavors.
"Hmmm, mmmm," she mumbled, barely coherent in her half-asleep state.
The maids entered her room, assisting her in getting dressed for the impending meeting with her father. Arabella reluctantly roused herself, allowing them to prepare her for what promised to be an unpleasant encounter.
"Good afternoon, Father," Arabella greeted as she sat down across from him. The Marquess ordered the maids to serve tea and then leave the room, ensuring they had privacy.
An uncomfortable silence filled the air. The relationship between father and daughter was strained, much like oil and water—constantly at odds, never truly mixing.
"I'm here to discuss your coming of age ceremony," the Marquess began.
Arabella's expression hardened. She felt a mix of disappointment and anger bubble up within her.
"My coming of age ceremony or my marriage?" she asked pointedly.
The Marquess remained silent for a moment too long, and Arabella drew her own conclusions. She chuckled bitterly, then fixed her father with a steely gaze.
"Marquess Wycliffe, let me make one thing clear. I am not an accessory or a means of trade. Respect my boundaries, and I will respect yours," she declared, standing up and glaring at him.
"That's quite disappointing coming from you," Marquess Wycliffe shook his head, his tone dismissive. "You are only a woman. What good will you do for our household?"
"You haven't changed one bit, and surprisingly, I'm not expecting you to," Arabella retorted. "You tell me to study hard, and I did. You belittle me, and I endured it. But now my gender is a problem the moment I refuse an arranged marriage? Ha! Pathetic," she slammed her hand on the table, standing up in defiance.
Half of what she was saying, Arabella hadn't experienced firsthand. She was channeling the spirit of the original Arabella, feeling the weight of injustices she hadn't directly suffered but empathized with deeply.
' I'm sorry Arabella, but for us to win let me lie', she thought to herself.
The Marquess set his teacup down with a force that caused it to crack, his face contorted with rage. "I am your father. You listen to me. I did it because you needed to be taught."
"Taught what exactly?" Arabella yelled back. "That I am inferior to every man who stands before me? That I have no right to disobey because I am a woman? Or is this your twisted way of showing hatred disguised as love? Don't make me laugh," she shouted, her voice shaking with emotion. "These are the very reasons I ask myself, why did my mother choose such a beast?"
In a flash of fury, the Marquess slapped her across the face. Arabella stumbled but quickly regained her footing.
"You crazy jerk!" she screamed, throwing her teacup at him. The cup hitting the Marquess on the head with hot tea pouring down.
"I have had enough of this gender discrimination. Just wait—I will prove to you how wrong you are about my gender." She grabbed his collar, her eyes burning with determination.
She stormed out of the room, her right cheek flushed red from the slap. Her fierce expression frightened anyone who dared cross her path.
"My lady, are you alright? Your cheek..." a maid asked, concerned.
Arabella took a deep breath, calming herself. "I'm fine. Could you get me a bottle of the strongest wine in the cellar and the key to my room? And some fried chicken, please," she requested with a strained smile.
The maid nodded obediently and turned to leave.
"Also, no one—I mean no one—should enter my room until tomorrow afternoon," Arabella added, her tone leaving no room for argument. The maid, now visibly frightened, nodded again and hurried away.
"Thank you," Arabella said, her voice softening as she forced a bright smile.
***
Meanwhile, in the drawing room, the Marquess sank into his chair, rubbing his temples in frustration. He took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling, covering his eyes with one hand.
"My love, what should I do? It's never going to get better between us at this rate," he sighed, stretching his hand out as if reaching for an answer.
He then summoned the butler. "What's she doing now?" he asked, his voice betraying a rare hint of concern.
"The lady locked herself in her room. She is drinking wine and eating fried chicken, and she has asked not to be disturbed until tomorrow afternoon," the butler replied.
"Ahhh. I did it again," the Marquess muttered to himself, feeling a pang of regret.
***
In her room, Arabella laughed loudly, a sound that echoed through the estate, making the servants wonder if the argument had driven her to madness.
" My lady must be so annoyed by their argument, hope she is all right now? "
But in reality, Arabella was laughing to stave off the anger boiling inside her. "Because of that bastard, now I have to wash away my anger. All the rewards I was saving, I'm going to use one," she lamented to herself.
She finally decided on how to use her rewards. "Please, I want the newest television in Korea and infinite internet access to all movie and manhwa apps. Also, it should be transformable so I don't get caught," she ordered, closing her eyes and clasping her hands together in a silent plea.
Moments later, her wish was granted, and Arabella found herself laughing uncontrollably for hours, lost in the world of her favorite shows.