Bound by Crimson Chains

The wedding dress arrived three days before Jessie was expected to wear it. It came in a black carriage. And Jessie watched from the second-floor window as four horses pulled the lacquered monstrosity through the gates of her father’s estate. Their coats were the color of fresh snow, their harnesses polished silver, and each animal wore a crimson plume that bobbed obscenely with every step.

Crimson.

Baron Maddox’s color. Even his horses wore his claim. Jessie pressed two fingers against the cold window, her breath fogging the glass. Below, servants hurried across the courtyard as the carriage rolled to a stop before the manor steps. Two footmen climbed down from the rear. A moment later, they were wrestling an enormous wooden chest from inside.

Jessie didn’t need to see what was in it. She already knew.

“Your ladyship?” She closed her eyes.

“Don’t call me that.” There was a nervous pause behind her.

“Of course, miss.” Jessie turned from the window.

Clara stood near the bedroom door, hands clasped tightly against her plain gray skirts. She had been Jessie’s maid since they were both sixteen, though maid had always seemed too cold a word for what Clara truly was. Confidante. Accomplice. Occasionally, the only sane person in the entire house. Today, however, even Clara looked defeated.

“Is that it?” Jessie asked. Clara glanced toward the window.

“I’m afraid so.” She spoke barely above a whisper. Jessie laughed. It was a small, humorless sound.

“How thoughtful of him.” A sneer flashed across Jessie’s face.

“Jessie…” Clara whined.

“He chooses to be my husband. He chooses the church. He chooses the flowers. He chooses which wine will be served at the feast.” She began counting the offenses on her fingers. “And now Baron Maddox has chosen the dress he’ll put me in when he takes possession of me.”

Clara flinched. Voices rose from the courtyard. Her father’s voice among them. Lord Edric Vale had always possessed the remarkable ability to sound important even when discussing weather. Jessie couldn’t make out the words through the glass, but she knew the tone. Pleasant, grateful, subservient. Her father was welcoming the Baron’s servants as though they carried treasure instead of chains. Jessie turned back to the window, unable to look away. The chest had reached the front doors. One of the footmen wore the Baron’s crest upon his breast: a black wolf standing over a broken crown. Jessie had always hated that crest. She hated it even more now.

“Three days,” she whispered. Clara said nothing. “In three days, I’ll be his wife.”

The words felt unreal. She had said them before, thought them countless times. But something about seeing that chest made the future solid.

Three days. Then she would stand before a priest and promise obedience to a man nearly twice her age. Her father’s estate would fill with nobles eager to watch the great Baron Maddox marry the troublesome daughter of Lord Vale.

Three days, and everyone would smile. Well everyone except Jessie, she felt she might never smile again. Another knock came at the door but before either woman could answer, it opened. Jessie’s jaw tightened as her father entered.

Lord Edric was a handsome man in the way portraits were preferred: silver beginning at his temples, neatly trimmed beard, shoulders still broad beneath his dark blue coat. At sixty-two, he had perfected the appearance of quiet authority. But Jessie knew better. His eyes moved first to Clara. “Leave us.”

Clara hesitated but Jessie gave her a tiny nod. “It’s all right.” It wasn’t but Clara curtsied and slipped from the room closing the door. Her father looked out toward the courtyard.

“You saw the carriage.” It was a statement, not a question.

“It was difficult to miss.” Jessie responded harshly.

“The Baron sent your wedding gown.”

“So I’ve gathered.”

“You could attempt gratitude.”

“I could.” His mouth tightened. Jessie turned away from him. That was the problem with her father. Disappointment was his preferred weapon.

“You will try it on this afternoon,” he said.

“No.” she deadpanned.

“Jessie…” Frustration layered her name.

“I have dresses.” Stubbornness warred with hate in her tone.

“Not appropriate for your wedding.” He dismissed her words.

“Then I’ll wear trousers.”

“Enough.” The single word cracked through the room. Jessie looked at him and for one brief moment, anger showed beneath his carefully controlled expression.

Good. At least anger was honest.

“You will wear the gown Baron Maddox has provided,” he said. “You will attend dinner tonight. And you will behave with the dignity expected of the future Baroness Maddox.”

“There won’t be a future Baroness Maddox.”

Her father went very still. Jessie’s heart began beating harder. She had made the same declaration twice before. The first time, he had ignored it, the second, he had confined her to the estate for a week. This time, something in his face changed.

“Your wedding is in three days.”

“I know.”

“The contracts are signed.”

“Not by me. Perhaps you should marry him.”

“Do not be childish.”

“I’m not being childish.” She crossed the room. “I’m telling you I won’t do it.”

“You will.”

“No.”

“Jessie.”

“No.”

The word came out harder than she intended. For several seconds, neither moved. Rain began tapping against the window. Her father’s expression softened. That frightened her more than his anger.

“You think I enjoy this?”

Jessie blinked.

“You think I wanted this arrangement? Our family is drowning.” The words silenced her. Her father walked toward the window.

“The southern harvest failed. Twice. The mines haven’t produced enough silver to cover their own costs in six months. We owe money to the crown.”

Jessie stared at him, he had never told her that.

“How much?”

“Enough.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is the only answer you require.”

A familiar flare of anger burned through her.

“Of course.”

“Jessie…”

“No. Please. Continue explaining my own life to me. Apparently I’m the only person who doesn’t get to know anything about it.”

Her father’s face hardened again.

“Maddox has influence with the King. He has agreed to settle our debts and protect the Vale lands from seizure.”

“In exchange for me.”

“In exchange for an alliance.”

“An alliance with breasts.”

“Jessie!”

She folded her arms.

“What? Is that not accurate enough for polite conversation?”

Her father rubbed a hand over his face. For a moment, he looked older. Tired. Jessie almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Then he said, “You will marry him.”

The sympathy vanished.

“Why?”

“I just explained why.”

“No. You explained why you want me to marry him.”

She stepped closer.

“I’m asking why I have to.”

“Because you are my daughter.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“It is the only reason that matters.”

There it was. The truth. Jessie felt something cold settle inside her. Something harder than fear.

“You’ve already decided.”

“Yes.”

“And nothing I say matters.”

“This is bigger than what you want.”

“My life is bigger than what I want?”

“Our family…”

“My life.”

Her voice cracked, she hated that it did. She swallowed and tried again.

“My life, Father.”

His eyes flickered. Then the lord returned. The master of the house. The man who had signed his daughter’s name without ever touching ink to her fingers.

“You are not the first woman to marry for duty.”

“I don’t care.”

“Your mother did.”

“Don’t.”

“She understood…”

“Don’t use her.”

Silence. Her mother’s portrait hung in the gallery downstairs. Jessie remembered very little of the woman herself. A warm laugh. The scent of lavender. A hand brushing copper curls from Jessie’s forehead. Then fever. Black clothes. Whispers. An empty chair at dinner. Jessie had been eight. Her father looked away first.

“The Baron arrives tomorrow.” Jessie’s stomach tightened, she hadn’t known that.

“Tomorrow?”

“He wishes to spend time here before the ceremony.”

“How charming.”

“You will receive him properly.”

“No.”

“You are testing the limits of my patience.”

“Then perhaps we finally have something in common.”

Her father crossed the room so quickly that Jessie instinctively stepped back. He stopped abruptly. He had never struck her. But something about the movement sent a warning through her anyway.

“Listen to me,” he said quietly. “You have spent your entire life believing stubbornness is courage.”

Jessie held his gaze. The words landed harder than she expected but her father continued.

“If this marriage fails, the crown takes these lands. The tenants who depend upon us lose their homes. The servants downstairs lose their positions. Families who have lived here for generations will pay the price.” Jessie’s throat tightened.

“Because of debts I didn’t create.”

“No. But debts you can help settle.”

“By marrying a monster.”

“You barely know the man.”

“I know enough.”

Her father hesitated. Jessie saw it. A tiny thing. A fraction of a second. But she saw it.

“You know,” she whispered.

“Know what?”

“What he is.”

“I know he is powerful.”

“You know what people say about him.”

“Gossip.”

“Three servants disappeared from his household last winter.”

“Jessie.”

“One of his tenants was publicly whipped because he couldn’t pay his taxes.”

“You don’t know the circumstances.”

“His first wife died.”

“She was ill.”

“She fell from a tower.”

“After suffering from a fever.”

“How convenient.”

“Enough.”

Jessie stared at him. There it was again. That hesitation. That refusal to meet the ugliest possibility directly. Her father knew. Maybe not everything. Maybe he had convinced himself the stories were exaggerated. But he knew enough to be afraid of the truth. And he was sending her anyway.

“Get out.”

His eyebrows rose.

“This is my house.”

“Then enjoy it while you still have it.”

“Jessie…”

“You said the crown is coming for it.”

Her voice trembled now. She didn’t care.

“Maybe you should have sold the silver. Or the horses. Or the paintings. Maybe you should have sold every stone in this miserable house before you sold me.”

Her father’s face went pale. For one heartbeat, Jessie thought she had reached him. Then the mask returned.

“The dress fitting is at two.”