"I would rather die," I declared.
"Then you will!" Papa retorted, shaking his clenched fist over me. "I'll do the honors myself, damn it."
"Papa, that man is abominable. You see how arrogant and disrespectful he is, how he comes here day after day just to torture you, torture all of us. He's not decent; he's not a gentleman."
"That's enough, Lillian," Papa said.
"No, it's not enough. It's not. Anyway, why would you want me to marry the man who took away your family's plantation in a card game and teases you about it?" I asked through my emerging tears. Papa's expression gave me the answer. "You're making a deal with him," I said with dismay. "You're exchanging me for The Meadows."
Papa shrunk back a moment and then stepped forward, indignant.
"What if I am? Don't I have a right? When you were destitute, without a mother or a father, didn't I take you in willingly? Haven't I provided for you, put the clothes on your back and the food in your belly for years and years? Just like any daughter, you owe me. You've got a debt to pay," he concluded, nodding.
"What about what you owe me, Papa?" I retorted. "What about what you've done to me? Can you ever make up for that?"
"Don't you ever say such a thing," he commanded. He stood before me, his chest swelling, his shoulders rising. "Don't you go spreading any stories, Lillian. I won't have it."
"You don't have to worry about that," I said softly. "I'm more ashamed of it than you are. But Papa," I cried, appealing to whatever softness there was left in him, "please, please don't make me marry that man. I could never love him."
"You don't have to love him. You think all married people love each other?" he said, smiling sardonically. "That's the stuff of your mother's foolish books. Marriage is a business arrangement from start to finish. The wife provides something for the husband and the husband provides for the wife, and most of all, the two families benefit. If it's a well-arranged marriage, that is.
"What can be so bad for you?" he continued. "You'll be the mistress of a fine house and it's my guess that in no time, you'll have more money than I ever had. I'm doing you a favor, Lillian, so I expect more appreciation."
"You're saving your plantation, Papa. You're not doing me any favors," I accused, my eyes narrow slits of rage. It took him back for a moment.
"Nevertheless," he said, straightening up, "you will marry Bill Cutler two weeks from tomorrow. Get yourself set on it. And don't let me hear one word to the contrary, hear?" he said, his tone sterile, as if his heart had been removed. He glared at me a moment. I said nothing; I simply looked away, and then he turned and left me.
I fell back on my bed. It had begun to rain, suddenly making my room damp and chilly. The drops tapped on my window and pelted the roof. I felt the world couldn't look any darker and any more unfriendly to me. A shivering thought came rushing over me with the gust of wind that slapped the rain against the house: suicide.
For the first time in my life, I considered the possibility. Maybe I would crawl out on the roof and let myself fall to my death as Niles had fallen to his. Maybe I would die in the exact same spot. Even death seemed better than marrying a man like Bill Cutler. The very thought of it made my stomach churn. The truth was that if Papa hadn't lost a game of cards, I wouldn't be tossed over the table like just another gambling chip. It wasn't fair. Once again, impish fate was toying with my destiny, playing with my life. Was this part of my curse, too? Maybe it was better to end it.
My thoughts went to Charlotte. What made this proposed marriage even more horrible was the realization that I wouldn't see her very much anymore, for I wouldn't be able to take Charlotte with me. I couldn't very well claim her as my own. I would have to leave my baby behind. My heart felt like stone with the hard conclusion that in time I would become more like a stranger to my own child. Just like me, Charlotte would lose her real mother and Emily would take on more and more of the responsibilities. Emily would have the most influence over her life. How sad. That sweet, cherub face would lose its brightness under a sky of constant gray in a world of gloom and doom.
Of course, I would escape this horrid world by marrying Bill Cutler, I thought. If only I could manage to find a way to bring Charlotte with me, too, I might be able to endure living with that man. Maybe I could convince Papa. Maybe somehow . . . then both Charlotte and I would be free of Emily and Papa and the misery that lived alongside us in this dying plantation, a house filled with tragic memories and dark shadows. Marrying Bill Cutler would somehow be worth it then, I rationalized. What else could I do?
I got up and went downstairs. Bill Cutler had left and Papa was just straightening out some things on his desk. He looked up sharply when I entered, anticipating more argument.
"Lillian, I'm through discussing the issue. As I told you upstairs—"
"I'm not arguing with you about it, Papa. I just wanted to ask you for one thing and then I'll willingly marry Bill Cutler and save The Meadows for you," I said. He was impressed and sat back.
"Go on. What do you want?"
"I want Charlotte. I want to be able to take her with me when I go," I said.
"Charlotte? Take the baby?" He thought a moment, his eyes fixing on the rain-washed windows. For a moment he was really considering it. My hopes began to soar. Papa had no real love for Charlotte. If he could get her off too . . . then he shook his head and turned back to me. "I can't do that, Lillian. She's my child. I can't go giving up my child. What would people think?" His eyes widened. "I'll tell you what they'd think. They'd think you was her mother. No sir, I can't give up Charlotte.
"But," he said before I could respond, "maybe in time, Charlotte would spend more of her life with you. Maybe," he said, but I didn't believe it. I saw, however, that it was the best I could expect.
"Where will the wedding be held?" I asked, defeated.
"Right here at The Meadows. It will be just a small affair . . . a few of my close friends, some cousins . . ."
"Can I invite Miss Walker?"
"If you must," he begrudgingly said.
"And can I have Mamma's wedding dress fixed for me? Vera could do it," I said.