“And he has worn out three,” said Romilly, desperately, “And goes again to many another girl of fifteen….”
“One reason he asked me for you,” her father said, “was that his other wives have been weaklings and too near akin to him; he wanted new blood for the house. If you bear him a healthy son, you will have great honor, and everything you could possibly wish for.”
“And if I do not I will be dead and no one will have to care whether I am happy or not,” she cried, her tears starting forth again. “Father, I cannot, I will not marry that-that loathsome man! Oh, Father, I am not trying to defy you, I would willingly marry almost anyone else-Cinhil, or-or Dom Alderic-”
“Alderic, hey?” Her father took her chin in his big hand and tipped up her face to look at it. ‘Tell me the truth, now, child. Have you been playing about in a way you should not? Dom Garris will expect to find you chaste; will he be disappointed? Has that arrogant young Castamir sprig been trifling with your feelings, girl? A guest under this roof-”
“Dom Alderic has never spoken a word to me, or done anything, which he could not have done in full view of you and Mother,” she flared indignantly, “I named him only because I would not find him loathsome, nor Cinhil, nor any healthy kind young man somewhere near my own age! But that-that slimy-” words failed her, and she bit her lip hard so she would not cry.
“Romilly,” said her father gently, still holding her face between his hands, “Dom Garris is not so old as that: it is not, after all, as if I had tried to give you to Lord Gareth, or to any man I knew to be evil-tempered, or a drunkard, or a gambler, or one who was a wastrel of substance. I have known Garris all his life; he is a good, honorable and wellborn young man, and you should not hold his face against him, since he did not make it. A handsome face will soon be worn away, but honor and good birth and a kindly temper are the things I want for my daughter’s husband. You are only a silly young girl, and you can see no further than a man’s handsome face and grace at dancing; which is why fathers and mothers make marriages for young girls, so that they can see a man’s true worth.”
She swallowed, and felt shame overcoming her, to speak of this to her father, but the alternative was worse. She said, “He-he looks at me in such a way – as if I were naked – and when we were dancing, he put his hands on me-”
Her father frowned and looked aside and she knew he was embarrassed too. At last he sighed and said, “The man is wanting a wife, that is all; when he is wedded he will not need to do so. And at least you know that he is not a-” he coughed nervously, “he is not a lover of men, and will not desert you to hold hands with one of his paxmen or a pretty young page-boy or Guardsman. I think he will make you a good husband, Romy. He may be awkward and not know how to make himself known to you, but I think he means you well and you will be happy together.”
Romilly felt the tears breaking and spilling. She said, feeling her voice break hi sobs, “Father-oh, Father, please. . . anyone, anyone else, I swear I will obey you without question, but not-not Dom Garris-”
The MacAran scowled, biting his lip. He said, “Romilly, this matter has gone so far I cannot honorably draw back. The folk of Scathfell are neighbors, and I am dependent on their good will; to break my word at this point, would be an affront to their honor which I could not recover in a lifetime. If I had had any idea you felt like this, I would never have given my word; but done is done, and I have pledged it in honor. There’s no more to be said, child. You are young; you will soon grow used to him, and it will be well, I promise you. Now cheer up, don’t cry; I promised you a pair of fine blacks, broken with my own hand, for a wedding-present, and I am going to make over the small farm at Greyrock to you, so you will always have something, a place of your own. And I have told Luciella to send to the markets in Caer Donn for fine stuff for a wedding-dress, so you need not be married in homespun. So cheer up, dry your eyes, and decide for yourself which of the blacks you want for a wedding-present, and you may ask Luciella to have new dresses made for you, three-no, four new outfits and everything to go with them, all kinds of petticoats and feathers and bonnets and gewgaws such as girls like, no girl in the hills will be better outfitted for her wedding.”