Revival

I was never meant to be alive.

I was born close to midnight, in the middle of December, during the year 1881. My mother's pregnancy was already a cause for

concern,

considering her previous losses. When I was born much earlier than anticipated, my mother immediately locked down on the decision that I would end up just like all the others. She refused to allow herself to become close with me, instead making her choice quite clear that she would prefer to hear of my passing rather than witnessing it. She had previously become attached to her last son, who was born dead. He was practically ripped away from her arms as she laid there sobbing and praying that he would just find a way to open his eyes. She never even got to know what color eyes he had, blue like his father, or brown like her

own

.

These details were confessed to me as a child, after she had one too many drinks one evening. His name was going to be Francis. At

times,

it felt like her attachment to him would be present throughout my life, because I was not the child she wanted to live.

My brother

Jackson,

was seven when Francis died. He did not understand what was happening, but he remembered it all in perfect detail; for reasons I did not and may never understand.

Despite several recommendations, mother refused to form a bond with me, leading father to hiring extra help when it came to taking care of me, while other workers here assisted in what my mother could not bring herself to do.

I might as well have been born dead, just like her lost child; and I was treated as such.

Soon,

my father and brother followed my mother's example; they all waited for someone to inform them of my untimely death. When I was nine, Jackson informed me of the truth behind my birth. At just seventeen, he tortured me with the confession that our mother cared very little for me as a child, even refusing to shed a single tear for the possibility of another child dying.

He told me that he knew that I was not special, because she did not act the way she did with others she had lost.

Mother had just given birth to our younger sister

, Maria

. I went out of my way to observe, needing to know that he was lying, and she instead acted that way by choice.

And yet, she was attentive, nurturing, and despite having no memory of my life as a baby, I could feel something inside of me missing.

Perhaps I was being dramatic

, but

the want to meet any and all expectations of my parents sprouted, growing into an obsession that I could never truly satisfy. To this day, I wonder about the consequences of dying before you are meant to live, and how it must hold an unfortunate fate if you were ever to break past it.

After all, when the world determines that you are not meant to be, yet you end up surviving anyway, then it must now adjust to your presence. Your own world does not change much. However, theirs does.

Jackson would go on to inform me that I was nearly two years old before she had accepted that I was alive. As soon as she did, they all followed. She acted as though nothing had happened, but still she did not know how to act around me. To

her,

I was only a stranger.

I suppose considering all the unpleasant things that go on in the world, my mother delaying her motherly duties was better than nothing at all.

On the other hand, my father had little concern on the matter. I believe he was mostly glad that he did not have to lose money on another burial.

Money meant a great deal to my father, which explained his eagerness to take over the family bank, once his grandfather passed. His own father worked for the bank as well

, but

was deemed unacceptable as a choice for who would lead the company. This pleased my father because it meant he was better.

He idolized his grandfather, who taught him everything he could ever need in life. To be his choice meant the world to him. Especially considering my father treated any other job as though it were beneath him. In his eyes, money was the absolute key to happiness and success. The more money you

had,

the happier your life would ultimately be. And if you possessed a great deal of

money,

then you had power, and with power you can control the happiness of others.

I would not be surprised if money were also the deciding factor in his marriage to my mother. My great aunt informed me that their wedding was rushed once mother became of age to marry

Her father offered a more than suitable dowry in exchange for him giving my mother his name. And in return, she gave him a new accessory. He often treated her like his favorite thing to wear on his arm. She was dazzling and sparkling when next to him, but more

importantly,

she knew that she was meant to be seen and not heard.

Our society seemed to be tainted by this

behavior,

and my mother was just another victim to add to his need to control everything, just like I will be one day. Perhaps it was not the worst fate to have, but when I think of my mother and how she would do absolutely anything for my father, it must mean there is some form of love and devotion. I do wonder if she ever had dreams of her own. Was this the life she had always envisioned for herself, or did she stash away any dreams once realizing that they would never be acceptable as the wife of a wealthy and respectable banker.

She plays the role of the perfect wife and mother to his three perfect children. Am I destined to end up like her? Even looking around at the lavish items that I am blessed to have in my life, I wonder if it will all be enough when I too am married. Despite my success in completing everything they wanted, I do feel as though I am not truly a part of this family. As terrible as it sounds, if I were to die unexpectedly, they would still have someone who would carry on their ways.

Jackson was twenty-five now, and he wanted nothing more than to take over for father at the bank. Though now he was looking for his own blushing bride, ready to carry on the

Bellrose

name. He would look forward to the coming out season, but every year no one ever met his standards. Father says it is because Jackson knows what he deserves and will not settle for less; but perhaps the need for perfection and control has been passed on.

And then there was Maria, who was only nine, more eager every day to be just like her mother. She still carries around a porcelain doll that she treats like her own baby. Did I ever show such enthusiasm to reaching an appropriate age for marriage and being a mother? Both of them were much more accustomed to the rising expectations and needs that had to be fulfilled. I saw things that no one else seemed to want to acknowledge, but I would give anything to become a bride and a mother.

Just because I did not feel these emotions, it does not mean that I could not mimic them.

"If you want to succeed in life, you must always be ahead of others, no matter the cost" my father used to tell Jackson

.

I would overhear these lectures on becoming dignified, and I wanted nothing more than for father to look down at me, proud of his daughter for accomplishing all that he wanted.

I am seventeen

almost

eighteen now and have already embarked on the courtship ritual. The usual season of eligible women was upon us, and I was now one of them. The pressure to be found by someone seemed greater than ever, because you are only allowed so many seasons before you are no longer an option. It did not matter if I approved of this man or not, all that mattered was if my parents approved. All I wanted was for them to be proud of me.

Though it was nearing the end of the season, and there had been no advancement in becoming a wife. It worried me. Mother had purchased a whole new wardrobe and everything for my coming out. The finest fabrics that fit me like a glove, just so that I could appear my finest in the public eye. She started this process over a year

ago,

and talking about it brought life back into her eyes.

This was one of the first occasions where I had ever seen my mother show excitement regarding me. Because of

that,

I soaked up every bit of her attention as I could. She was so happy, which in return made me happy. Mother was persistent in turning me into a miniature version of herself, because it had all worked out wonderfully for

her,

then it should only do the same for me.

I prayed that it would. The only downside was all the time I was now spending with her, I have learned that despite how much I loved her, I was not particularly fond of her company. I could ignore that though if it meant seeing her smile at me as if I were her own personal star sent from the heavens.

"You must calm yourself, Cordelia" my mother said, impatiently as my corset was tightened around my waist "If you tense up then you will be uncomfortable for the entire evening, which men will notice"

I took a deep breath, trying to ignore how shaky I was as I breathed out "Yes, mother"

"Surely you must notice a difference between this one and the last one. However, you cannot rely on it, so make sure you pay attention to your posture"

The new one fit much better than the others I had tried before. That did not make up for the fact that yes, corsets could be tighter, but that did not mean they were suddenly comfortable to wear for long hours. They were necessary for

women,

though and I would have to accept that. The laces were handed to me, while I tied it in place.

My mother approached me, looking at my hair, before letting out a disappointed sigh "Dorothea, do something with her hair; it is a tangled mess"

I watched her walk away from me and

back over

to the gown I would be wearing. She admired it, perhaps reminiscing of a time when things were easier and still so full of hope. I took a seat and immediately stared at myself in the mirror. This was not my first outing, but it did not shake away the fear I had when preparing for one.

The pressure of looking my best never seemed to go away.

"This dress is from France, Cordelia; is it not just lovely?" my mother asked, running her fingers over the fabric.

Dorothea combed through my hair, quickly fixing it to the best of her ability. She had more of a mother's touch than my own mother did. I smiled softly as she reached down and gave my shoulder a small squeeze, just as she had when I was nervous as a child.

Nerves of a child are

different,

though. What if I never found someone who would marry me?

Would my parents disown me, or instead give me to the first person they could find in desperation to save the

Bellrose

name. My father was respected, and it would not look well if no one wanted to marry his daughter. Without realizing, I looked back in the mirror, noticing quickly that I had gotten lost in my thoughts once again. Dorothea had my hair pinned up, and I had just now become aware of it.

She moved loose strands around, letting it frame my face. I looked just like my mother, rather than myself.

"

Cordelia,

are you listening?" my mother asked.

I looked at her in the mirror, watching as she held the dress

up,

"If this dress does not strike the fancy of a gentleman, then perhaps there is no hope after all"

My eyes widened. "Surely you do not mean that; do you?"

She waved Dorothea away, choosing to finish up the final touches of my hair "Well, dear, the season is almost over, and you have yet to find someone. No one has even approached your father regarding you; it is worrisome"

"There will always be next season, and the one after that. I can always spend my time preparing in advance for next year" I said, trying to ignore the doubt that was now casting over my mind.

"I know, darling, but I met your father on my second outing as a woman" she stared down at me "How many events have you been to now?" she shook her head "There is just no reason why no one is approaching about a courtship with you"

I could feel her eyes on me as she fixed my hair. I swallowed, knowing what she must be thinking about me at this moment. This was not a part of their plan. What would they do?

"Time to get you into that gown"

I stood, following her, while Dorothea had already set up the dress for me to wear it. I reached out my arms as the gown was placed over my body. If anything, it was a costume, and I was trying my best to play the character. The fabric slicked down my skin, framing all of my curves and fitting me perfectly, just as mother had envisioned.

"Almost perfect"

“Almost?” I thought to myself.

"You have a women's figure now, and we must showcase your hips" she said, snapping her fingers at Dorothea to fix the bunched up skirt "I was worried with how fast your body was growing we would not get this dress to fit"

"I am working on that"

"Yes, but lucky for

us,

we have the new corset" she smoothed out my sleeves.

I stared at her, thinking back to her last

comment,

"Why would we want to show off my hips?" I grew up learning that a body must be hidden in order for it to deserve respect.

Father made that clear.

"You have such a lovely figure, perfect for carrying children. Your suitors must be able to see that" she paused for a moment "We want you to be noticed, so we are seeing to that you are"

I held my breath as the dress was properly adjusted on me, immediately feeling closed in.

"Showing that you are ideal with childbearing is something we need to rely on now" she softly smiled at me "These things are what matter"

That had also been made clear to me as a child. My role was to give men children, and play the role my mother did, just as well.

"Well would you look at that" my mother said,

awing

as she placed her palm to her cheek.

I smiled at her and turned to look in the mirror, barely recognizing the girl she was presenting me to be. Although to be fair, I did not know who I was to begin with. Why not be what people

want,

then. My eyes wandered over my appearance, immediately noticing the shade of yellow she had me in. Light colors never complimented me, other than white. I did not have a choice in the

matter,

though. She knew what was best, and she believed that dark colors on a young lady who had not matured was strictly unsuitable.

I ran my hands over my figure, looking down at the floral design of the dress.

Would this finally get me noticed?

"I am going to check on your father, and then we should be leaving shortly"

There was no time to respond as she left the room, with Dorothea following behind her.

Instead,

I sat back down in front of the mirror, choosing to spend this time running over the rules of etiquette once more.

I needed to settle my nerves.

There were too many doubts swirling around my head, making me nervous about whether an appearance would get me an eligible man.

Personally, I had far too many low expectations regarding this night, and I knew that I would never have a say in who I was to be married off to. I did hope that it would at least be a decent-minded man.

I do not believe I could ever be happily married to someone like my father. But the chance was there.

I started putting on my silk gloves, pulling until they reached above my elbow. Physically I looked the part, but no matter how hard I

tried,

there would always be something that did not seem all that put together. I took my ivory fan, practicing my fanning as I tried to make eye contact with myself in the mirror. I enjoyed getting to express myself without having to say a single word.

If I could stay behind this fan

forever,

I would. The sounds of footsteps on the stairs let me know that everyone was preparing to leave. I did not want to keep them waiting. If I could just accomplish this, then maybe I could avoid being seen as a lost cause in this family. Or at least stop feeling like one.

Jackson would be looking for a potential wife at this time as well; perhaps if we both were unsuccessful; we could at least have a common thing to discuss.

However, I have seen the way that other girls my age look at Jackson. He would have no problem finding a suitable wife if he stopped thinking like our father. I made my way down the stairs, finding my parents and brother waiting for me.

"Are you prepared?" my mother asked as she smoothed the shoulders of my father.

He appreciated her attention to detail; it helped keep his appearance perfect. I gave a small nod, standing before my tall and intimidating father. He always seemed to be wearing the same scowl of

disapproval,

whether I was near or not. I cannot recall a moment where I have even seen him laugh or smile when I was near. I am sure these moments exist, but they certainly were not at my hand.

"You look

presentable,

"

he spoke, clearing his throat.

In the right lighting, he would appear as the scariest man in existence. Especially with how easily he could look down at

you,

no matter how tall you appeared.

I

nodded,

"Thank you, father"

Mother looked past me, towards

Dorothea,

"Make sure that Maria does not get out of bed this time"

I could hear the crack in the steps as Dorothea shifted

nervously,

"Yes, madam"

Father turned away from me after inspecting my entire

appearance,

"We should leave soon. We do not want to keep them all waiting"

Tonight would be different from the

others,

and I would do everything my parents wished so that I could succeed in finding a husband for them.

Perhaps if I tell myself that enough, I might actually believe it.