Louise

Chapter 21

Precisely two days had passed since Lady Marianne's arrival and she had started acting like the lady of the house, giving orders and making decisions. Lady Marianne had sent Louise on an errand and as Louise navigated the corridors of the east wing, she heard muffled voices coming from the slightly opened study door. Louise paused before she slowed her steps, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't quite make out the words, but it sounded like Sebastian and Lord Warrington were having an argument of some sort.

"...must marry Marianne," Lord Warrington's insistent voice declared, "Her father's scandal cannot disrupt this union and jeopardize our family's social standing."

"At the expense of sacrificing our integrity?" Sebastian countered; his voice strained. "I refuse to bind my life to someone complacent with such blatant injustice!"

"You will do your duty, or consider our ties severed!" Lord Warrington's voice boomed through the study. "I will not have you tarnishing our reputation over insignificant chattel slaves!"

The dismissal of human lives as "insignificant" sent a shockwave through Louise. It made her lose all the respect she had for her family. Even Sebastian, with his progressive ideas, seemed to be on the verge of giving in. After the initial wave of anguish subsided, Louise made a decision to withhold judgment until she could fully grasp Sebastian's perspective.

While Lord Warrington's views on the matter were clear, Louise could tell that Sebastian was struggling with his own conscience. He did not seem to be entirely convinced that marrying Lady Marianne was the right thing to do, but he was also aware of the repercussions that could come with defying his father. Until she comprehended the complexities fully, she would maintain faith in Sebastian's inherent humanity. A man who had defended her dignity against Lady Marianne deserved at least that much benefit of the doubt.

"I implore you to reconsider this madness!" Lord Warrington thundered, his face growing red with anger. "Casting aside a lady of Marianne's esteem and wealth over a matter not directly tied to this family would be ruinous! You must think of the future, Sebastian! Of the legacy you will leave behind!"

"So, I should ignore deceit and murder if the victims are slaves?" Sebastian countered; his voice laced with disgust. "This is not a matter of wealth or status, Father. It is about right and wrong. I will not be a part of perpetuating such cruelty, no matter the cost."

"What sort of man would such a compromise make me?" Sebastian demanded, his eyes burning with determination.

"A sensible one!" shouted Lord Warrington, his face flushed with anger. "Attaching your career to unwelcome scandals would undermine everything your dear mother and I have toiled to provide for you. Is our lifelong devotion worth so little?"

"Do not attempt to use guilt as a tool to manipulate me," Sebastian spat, his chest heaving with emotion. You taught me to prize integrity above fortune, did you not?"

Lord Warrington exhaled heavily, "Indeed. But in the intricate dance of politics and high society, strict morality must occasionally...bend...to preserve stability and reputation. Once established, you will be in a better position to gently nudge for social reforms."

"At the cost of my principles?" Sebastian challenged, clearly wrestling with himself. "Tell me true - if those slaves thrown overboard unjustly bore our family name instead of being 'chattel,' would you be so quick to disregard their suffering?"

A weighty pause ensued; the air thick with tension. Louise pictured Lord Warrington struck mute by the bold question as her mind swirled with more questions than answers.

"Perhaps not," Lord Warrington admitted, his voice low and gravelly. "But those slaves are not my children. They are not bound to our line, our future. I cannot risk the welfare of those who are, Sebastian. I beg of you, reconsider." He leaned forward, hands clasped together, his expression pleading. "If you must marry someone else, find a young lady of equal standing who shares your ideals. There must be one among the many eligible daughters of our peers."

Louise did not stay to hear Sebastian's response, retreating silently to her room, a wave of unanswered questions echoing in her thoughts.

Closing her door, Louise sank to the floor in shock at what she had overheard. The cruel words echoed in her mind, tearing open old wounds. Flashes of her past came crashing over her - the sting of Aunt Abigail's slaps, her twin's rejection. Her breath hitched in her throat as memories of being cast aside simply for the colour of her skin vividly resurfaced.

"Insignificant chattel," Lord Warrington's voice echoed through her mind. Hot tears flowed down Louise's cheeks. She thought the Warrington's were enlightened, that here she might find some semblance of respect. Yet in the end, to them and all of high society - she was ultimately no different than human livestock - nameless, voiceless property to be used and discarded at will.

The room spun as Louise gasped for air between heaving sobs. She clutched her stomach, the pain so intense it felt as though someone were physically twisting her insides. All comfort she had found here now tasted bitter with the soot of deception. The family's professed affection had merely hidden their true beliefs about her race. Even Mr. Warrington, for all his sweet words in private, would ignore the suffering of her people if it meant advancing his career.

Louise unleashed gut-wrenching cries from deep inside. She keened for all those endless souls like herself who had suffered immeasurably purely because of their God-given skin. Her people remained shackled in so many ways, though the law claimed them free. Would oppression stain every aspect of her existence no matter where she went or what heights she achieved? Was there no safe place her weary and battered spirit?

As sadness simmered into quiet despair, Louise roughly swiped the tears from her swollen face. She had no choice but to collect herself and carry on, making do with meagre scraps of compassion. Even as fury and sorrow warred within her, she knew she must not allow them to consume her entirely. Tonight, she would weep silently into her pillow for dreams crushed and truths exposed. Tomorrow she would rise with the sun to play her role, eyes lowered submissively, needling questions unasked. She simply had nowhere else to go.