Harry’s Defiance: The Suitor’s Chosen

Harry stood defiantly in the line of girls, her vibrant navy and bright blue dress a stark contrast to the dull, brown, and green attire of the others. Her bare arms and fingerless gloves, complete with a slit up one side of her leg revealing her knee-high boots, screamed ‘Fuck Off’ in a world where submission was the norm. Her head remained high, eyes fixed on some point ahead, as she waited for the suitor to arrive.

Mrs. Denu, a woman notorious for her rigid standards, walked up and down the line, correcting the girls’ clothes and makeup. Harry’s dress was her greatest offense, and no amount of arrangement could fix it.

“Now girls,” Mrs. Denu said, her heels clicking on the floor. “When the suitor arrives, you are to keep your heads down, eyes on the floor. You do not, under any circumstances, look him in the eye. You must show that you know your place. You will do everything that he asks of you without hesitation.”

As the girls curtsied, Harry almost fell over trying to follow suit. She managed to stand up, her head bowed only slightly, and her eyes fixed on some point on the wall.

Warren, a man with a reputation for being difficult to please, walked into the hall, his eyes scanning the line of girls. He almost rolled his eyes at their perfect, submissive poses, until he saw Harry at the end of the row. Her dark, bold colours and messy plait caught his attention, and he felt a spark of interest.

“Do you not like them?” his mother asked, her voice laced with disdain.

“Mama, I said I didn’t have a type. I don’t want a woman just because she fits your standard of beauty.” Warren replied, his tone firm.

“If you won’t be picky, then I will. I don’t want just any ugly girl being the next Mrs. Denu. We have status. I will not let you ruin it by choosing some improper unattractive harlot!” his mother scolded.

Warren let out a sigh and walked up the line, skipping past the girls who looked too young. He stopped in front of Harry, his eyes locked on hers. “Harriet Burman,” his mother said, her voice dripping with disdain.

“I’m Harry,” she corrected, her eyes flashing with defiance. “Harriet’s a stuffy name for a stuck-up woman.”

Warren chuckled and reached out to pluck a twig from her braid. “I was wondering, Harry, where you got those scars. Proper ladies don’t have blemished skin, no less flaunt it.”

“I’m not proper nor a lady. I killed a bear and I wear my scars proudly,” Harry replied, her voice steady.

Warren released her chin and took a step back. “I chose you because you would be fine by yourself. I don’t want a wife, you don’t want a husband, so why not appease our families and pretend we care, then go home and just be roommates?”

Harry packed her clothes into a backpack, her mind racing with thoughts of escape. But when Warren appeared at her door, she felt a spark of interest. He didn’t want to marry her, and she didn’t want to marry him, but there was something about him that drew her in.

Warren stepped into the room, his eyes locked on hers. “Believe me, I don’t want to marry a stranger because of a stupid law invented centuries ago either. That’s why I chose you.”

Harry faltered, unsure of what to say. Why would Warren choose her, the one person who would hate to be his wife, if he didn’t want a bride in the first place?

“Why would you choose the one person who would hate to be your wife if you didn’t want a bride in the first place? Why not just stay single?” Harry asked, her voice steady.

“My mother wouldn’t be happy about that, and my father wants to see me marry before he dies. I chose you because you would be fine by yourself. I don’t want a wife, you don’t want a husband, so why not appease our families and pretend we care, then go home and just be roommates?”

Harry saw a flash of anger in Warren’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced with a neutral expression. “How do I know you aren’t lying, just manipulating me into marrying you so that you can have your way with me?”

“Do I look like I would lie to you, little girl?” Warren asked, his voice low and gruff.

“No sir,” Harry replied, the ‘sir’ slipping out of her mouth. She wanted to point out that she was by no means a little girl, but right now, compared to Warren, she felt small.

Warren stepped back, his expression softening. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

With that, he left the room and Harry was left to ponder his words. The logical side of her brain was telling her to stick to the plan, but the idiotic part of her brain was taking a stronger hold. She didn’t know what she was going to do until she reached Warren’s car and realised that the decision had been made.