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jennaferz

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Chapter 1

In The Beginning

She had always known who she would marry, from the day she was old enough to talk.

There had never been any question. It had been arranged since her birth. Such things came with being born into one of the richest families in England; she couldn't be a normal, hormonal teenager. She had to be Miss Prim and Proper, putting on a mask despite her true feelings, and on top of that she had to marry Caleb Swann.

There was nothing wrong with Caleb, of course. She even found herself loving him, a sentiment that grew more every day. But she would have liked to choose someone on her own, to meet someone on the subway or in a coffee shop, someplace natural--not shoved at her future husband like he was a dress she was buying.

Now that she was seventeen, they spent nearly every day together, and she felt that she was starting to know him more than ever. His smile grew ever more dear to her, his ideas ever more profound, and her heart expanded itself for him. But sometimes there was something about him, a flare in his eyes or the way his hand would suddenly grip hers tightly, hurting her almost as though he meant to, that made her fear him. And yet almost as soon as it happened it was gone, and he was her sweet, cherished Caleb again, leaning down to kiss her cheek with the shyness of a schoolboy.

She stared at herself in the mirror, her ebony locks falling in ringlets around her narrow face, her blue eyes piercing the glass of the mirror. She had always wondered if she was beautiful. No one had ever told her such, and she wasn't vain enough to think it without being told. She would have called herself mysterious, even appealing, but beautiful she did not know. Hearing a light knock on her door, she quickly turned from the mirror as her mother entered.

"Caleb is here, and it isn't polite to keep him waiting," her mother said, her tone formal. Any observer would not have guessed that their relationship was any closer than that of servant and master.

"I'll be down in a moment," she answered, squaring her shoulders and turning back to the mirror.

"Anne?" her mother said quietly, and she turned back to face her.

"Yes, Mother?"

"I think you should know that we plan for the wedding to take place within the month," her mother told her, her voice meek at first, then growing stronger. "We've held out for too long. Your father and I have discussed it with Caleb's parents, and it's all set."

Anne didn't show her emotions. Even as she was reeling inside--it's my wedding, for God's sake, don't you think you should ask me first?--she simply nodded and said, "If it pleases you, Mother."

After she was gone, she collapsed against the door. A month. She had a month left of innocence, of freedom, of independence.

**.**.**.**.**.**

"Do you ever feel like something was meant to happen?" Caleb asked.

They were outside, sitting in the long, untamed grass, and Anne was plucking the petals from a daisy. As he spoke, she looked up. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, glancing away. "I suppose your mother told you about the wedding."

"Yes." She looked back down at the daisy. Pulling the last petal off, she picked another one and started on it. "I'm happy, and yet I'm not."

"Why aren't you?" he asked, his voice sounding worried, and she smiled at him.

"Not because I don't want to marry you," she said. "Just because...I would rather be innocent for a few more years."

He nodded. "I understand." Pulling a knife from his pocket, he cut a few flowers for her and pressed them into her hand. "Don't pull them, it severs the roots."

She smiled at him. It was when he said things such as that when she felt certain that they were truly meant to be. "I'm sorry."

He scooted closer to her, until their arms were pressed against each other's, and his eyes peered straight into hers. She closed her eyes, feeling his breath on her lips, sure that he was about to kiss her--

Instead she felt something sharp dig into her arm.

Gasping in pain, her eyes shot open and she stared down at the blood pouring from her arm. A knife--carving the initials C.S. into her upper arm, a heart encircling them. A knife--held in the hand of her fiance.

He kissed the blood away and began to speak, and she stared at his lips in horror, red with her blood.

"Show this to your parents," he commanded her. "Show it to them, and tell them that you want to get married in two weeks."