I dont have a chance to feel the oncoming wave of homesickness before Im nudged into the clearing at the end of the rosebush hallway and made to stand in a semi-circle with the other brides.
The clearing is sudden and gaping, and a relief. The garden at once becomes enormous, a city bustling with fireflies and little flat candles that seem to be floating in placeI think Deirdre called them tea lights. There are fountains trickling into tiny ponds, and I can see now that the music is somehow being amplified from a keyboard that plays itself, the keys lighting up as the notes radiate out, sounding like a full band of strings and brass. I know the melody; my mother used to hum it: The Wedding March, the theme of weddings back in her own mothers day.
Im led to a gazebo at the center of the clearing with the two others, where the red carpet becomes a large circle. There is a man beside us in white robes, and the domestics take their places opposite us, their hands clasped in front of them as though in prayer. The youngest bride giggles as a firefly spirals before her nose and disappears. The oldest bride stares into space with eyes as gray as the evening sky. I just do what I can to not stand out, to blend in, which I suspect is impossible if the Governor has taken a liking to my eyes.
I dont know much about traditional weddings; Ive never attended one, and my parents, like most couples at that time, were married in city hall. With the human race dying off so young, hardly anybody gets married anymore. But I suppose this is how it used to be, more or less: the waiting bride, the music, the groom in a black tuxedo approaching. Linden, the House Governor, my soon-to-be husband, is led to us on the arm of a first generation man. Both of them are tall and pale. They part at the gazebo, and Linden takes the three steps that lead him to us. He stands at the center of the carpet circle, facing us. The little redheaded one winks at him, and he smiles adoringly at her, the way a father might smile at his young daughter. But shes not his daughter. He intends for her to carry his children.
I feel nauseous. It would be defiant enough just to vomit on his polished black shoes. But I havent eaten any of the food Gabriel has brought me since my first day here, and vomiting wont win me any favoritism. My best chance at escape will be to earn Lindens trust. The sooner I can pull that off, the better.
The man in white robes begins to speak, and the music fades to a stop.
We are gathered here today to join these four souls in this sacred union, which will bear the fruit for generations to come
As the man speaks, Linden looks us over. Maybe its the candlelight, or the mellow evening breeze, but he doesnt seem as menacing as before, when he selected us from the lineup. Hes a tall man with small bones that make him seem almost frail, childlike. His eyes are a bright green, and his glossy black curls hang like thick vines around his face. He is not smiling, and not grinning the way he did when he caught me running in the hallway. For a moment I wonder if he is even the same man. But then he opens his mouth, and I see the glimmer of gold in his teeth, way in the back molars.
The domestics have stepped forward. The man in white has stopped talking about how this marriage will secure future generations, and now Linden is addressing us each by name. Cecily Ashby, he says to the little bride. Elle opens her clasped hands, revealing a gold ring. Linden takes this ring and places it on the small brides hand. My wife, Linden says. She blushes and beams.
Before I can process whats happening, Deirdre has opened her hands and Linden has taken the ring from her and slipped it onto my finger. Rhine Ashby, he says. My wife.
It doesnt mean anything, I tell myself. Let him call me his wife, but once Im on the other side of the fence, this silly little ring will mean nothing. I am still Rhine Ellery. I try to let this thought sink in, but Ive broken into a cold sweat. My heart feels heavy. Linden catches my eyes with his, and I meet his stare. I wont blush or flinch or look away. I wont succumb.
He lingers a moment, and then hes on to the third bride.
Jenna Ashby, he says to the next girl. My wife.
The man in white says, What fate has brought together, let no man tear asunder.
Fate, I think, is a thief.
The music starts up again, and Linden takes each of our hands long enough to guide us down the steps, one at a time. His hand is clammy and cool. Its our first touch as husband and wife. As I move, I try to get a good look at the mansion that has imprisoned me these past few days. But its too massive, and Im standing too close to see more than one side of it, and all that register are bricks and windows. I think I see Gabriel, though, for a moment as he passes one of the windows. I recognize his neatly parted hair, his wide blue eyes watching me.
Linden leaves us after that, disappearing somewhere with the first generation man hed approached with. And the brides are herded back into the mansion. There is ivy growing along it, though, and just before Im inside, I reach out and grab a small piece of that leafy green plant and close it in my fist. It makes me think of home, even if ivy no longer grows there.
Back in my bedroom I hide the ivy in my pillowcase before Deirdre begins fussing over me. She helps me out of my wedding gown, which she folds neatly, and then begins to spray me with something that at first attacks my senses and makes me sneeze, but then recedes into a pleasant rosy scent. She makes me sit on the ottoman again and opens the makeup drawer. She scrubs my face clean and begins again, this time painting me in dramatic reds and purples that make me appear sultry. I like it even better than the earlier look; I feel like my anger and bitterness have been manifested.
Im dressed in a fitted red dress that matches the color of my lips, with black lace around the collar and capped sleeves. The dress only falls to about midthigh, and Deirdre tugs at the material to be sure it drapes properly. While shes doing this, I step into yet another pair of ridiculous heels, and stare at myself in the mirror. Every curve of my body protrudes through the velvet materialmy breasts, hipbones, even the ghost of ribs. Its a symbol that youre no longer a child, she explains. That youre ready for your husband to come to you at any time.
After that Im led to the elevator and down more hallways, until we reach a dining hall. The other brides are dressed in black and yellow versions of my outfit, respectively. All of us are wearing our hair down now. Im seated between them at a long table beneath crystal chandeliers. Cecily, the redhead, is looking excited, while Jenna, the dark-haired one, seems to be coming out of her melancholy. Under the table her hand brushes mine, and Im not sure if its accidental.
We all smell like flowers.
Bits of glitter still fall from Cecilys hair.
House Governor Linden arrives, with the first generation man again. They make their way to us, and Linden raises each of our hands to his lips for a kiss, one at a time. Then he introduces the man, his father, as Housemaster Vaughn.
Housemaster Vaughn also kisses our hands, and it takes some effort for me to keep from squirming at the feel of his lips, which are papery and cold. It makes me think of a corpse. As a first generation, Housemaster Vaughn has aged well; his dark hair has only sparse flecks of gray, and his face is not horribly wrinkled. But his skin is a sickly pallid shade that would make even Rose appear vibrant by comparison. He does not smile. Everything about his touch is chilled. Even Cecily becomes subdued by his approach.
House Governor Linden arrives, with the first generation man again. They make their way to us, and Linden raises each of our hands to his lips for a kiss, one at a time. Then he introduces the man, his father, as Housemaster Vaughn.
Housemaster Vaughn also kisses our hands, and it takes some effort for me to keep from squirming at the feel of his lips, which are papery and cold. It makes me think of a corpse. As a first generation, Housemaster Vaughn has aged well; his dark hair has only sparse flecks of gray, and his face is not horribly wrinkled. But his skin is a sickly pallid shade that would make even Rose appear vibrant by comparison. He does not smile. Everything about his touch is chilled. Even Cecily becomes subdued by his approach.
I feel a little better when Linden and Housemaster Vaughn are seated at the opposite end of the table, with Linden facing us and Housemaster Vaughn at the head. We brides sit in a row beside one another, and the other table head is left vacant. I suppose its where Lindens mother would have sat, but since shes not here, I assume shes dead.
When Gabriel enters the room balancing a stack of plates and utensils, I find that Im relieved by his presence. I havent spoken with him since last night, when he limped out of my room. Ive been worrying that my actions led to his punishment, and that Housemaster Vaughn will decide to lock him in a dungeon for the remainder of his life. My worries always lead to dungeons; I cant imagine a worse thing than to be imprisoned for the rest of ones life, especially with so few years to enjoy what little there is.
Gabriel seems well enough now, though. I look closely for signs of bruises beneath his shirt, and find nothing. His limp is gone. I try to catch his gaze, hoping to give him a sympathetic or apologetic look, but he doesnt raise his eyes to me. Four others in the same uniform follow him in, with pitchers of water, bottles of wine, a cart of extravagant foodswhole chickens basting in caramel sauces, pineapples and strawberries cut and shaped like pond lilies.
The door to the dining room is propped open as the attendants come and go. I wonder what would happen if I ranif Gabriel or one of the others would stop me. But ultimately its my fear of what my new husband might do that keeps me in place, because surely if I ran, I wouldnt make it far before I was caught. And thenwhat? Id be locked in my room again, probably, forever marred as the one who cant be trusted.
So I stay, participating in a conversation that is strained and sickeningly pleasant. Linden doesnt talk much himself; his mind seems to be elsewhere as he brings spoonful after spoonful of soup to his mouth. Cecily smiles at him, and she even drops her spoon, I think, just so hell look at her.
Housemaster Vaughn is talking about the hundred-year-old gardens and how sweet the apples are. He even makes fruits and shrubbery sound ominous. Its his voice, low and raspy. I notice that none of the help looks at him as they bring new dishes and clear away the old.
It was him, I think. Hes the one who hurt Gabriel yesterday when my door was left unlocked. Even with his smiles and harmless chatter, I can sense something dangerous in him. Something that hinders my appetite and drains the color from Deirdres pleasant face. Something, perhaps, more dangerous than heartsick Governor Linden, who stares past us, lost in love with a woman on deaths door.
I languish on the bed in my white slip while Deirdre rubs my sore feet. I might stop her if I werent so exhausted and her touch werent so relaxing. Shes kneeling beside me, so light that she scarcely even makes a dent in the fluffy comforter.
I lie on my stomach, hugging a pillow, and she begins to work my calves; its just what I need after so many hours in those high heels. She has lit some candles too, filling the room with the warm scent of obscure flowers. Im so relaxed that I just let the words come out, so beyond worrying about being classy at this point, So how does this wedding night work? Does he choose us in a lineup? Drug us with sleeping gas? Pool the three of us into one bed?
Deirdre does not seem offended by my crassness. Patiently she says, Oh, the House Governor wont consummate his brides tonight. Not with Lady Rose She trails off.
I push myself up just enough to look over my shoulder at her. What about her?
A tragic look is on Deirdres face, her shoulders moving as she rubs my sore legs. Hes very in love with her, she tells me wistfully. I dont believe hell visit any of his new brides until she has passed on.
Its true that Governor Linden doesnt come into my bedroom, and after Deirdre has blown out the candles and is gone, I eventually drift off to sleep. But in the early hours of the morning, Im awakened by the turn of the doorknob; in recent years Ive become a very light sleeper, and without any sleep-inducing toxin in my system, Ive returned to my usual alertness. Still I dont react. I wait, eyes wide open, watching my door open in the darkness.
The curly hair of the shadowy figure identifies Linden for me.
Rhine? He says my name for the second time in our short marriage. I want to ignore him and pretend that Im still asleep, but I think the terrified pounding of my heart must be audible across the room. Its irrational, but I still think a creaking door will mean Gatherers coming to shoot me in the head or steal me away. Besides, Linden has seen that my eyes are open.
Yes, I say.
Get up, he says softly. Put on something warm; I have something to show you.
Something warm! I think. This must mean hes taking me outside.
To his credit, he leaves the room so I can get dressed in private. The closet illuminates when I open it, revealing rows of more clothing than I bothered to notice earlier. I choose a pair of black pants that are warm and fleecy, and a sweater that has pearls worked into the knitDeirdres handiwork, no doubt.
When I open the doorwhich is no longer locked from the outside as it was before the weddingI find Linden waiting for me in the hall. He smiles, loops his arm through mine, and leads me to the elevator.
Its distressing how many hallways make up this mansion. Even if the front door were left wide open for my escape, Im certain Id never be able to find it. I try to make a note of where I am: a long, plain hallway with a green carpet that looks new. The walls are a creamy off-white, with the same kind of generic paintings that are in my bedroom. There are no windows, so I cant even tell that this is the ground floor until Linden opens a door and were on the path to the rose garden, down the same familiar hallway of bushes. But this time we pass the gazebo. The sun has yet to come up, giving the place a subdued, sleepy feel.
Linden shows me one of the fountains, which trickles into a pond populated by long thick fish that are white, orange, and red. Koi fish, he tells me. Theyre originally from Japan. Heard of it?
Geography has become such an obscure subject that I never encountered it in my brief years of schooling, before my parents deaths forced me to work instead. Our school was held in what was once a church, and the students barely filled out the first row of pews in full attendance. Mostly we were the children of first generations, like my brother and me, who had been raised to value education even if well die without a chance to use it. And the school had an orphan or two with dreams of becoming an actor, who wanted to learn enough reading to memorize scripts. All we were taught of geography was that the world had once been made up of seven continents and several countries, but a third world war demolished all but North America, the continent with the most advanced technology. The damage was so catastrophic that all that remains of the rest of the world is ocean and uninhabitable islands so tiny that they cant even be seen from space.