Charlotte's Choice

My skirts swished around my feet as I walked, my hair pinned atop my head as heavy as my thoughts. The small orchestra played diligently, and I was sure my betrothed would wait only a dance or two before taking me to the floor, as propriety demanded. This was a celebration, our celebration, after all. He was a good and kind man. He would be a good husband, to someone.

"Charlotte, there you are. May I have this dance, and hopefully every other one this evening?" A deep, mirthful voice asked from behind me. I turned, plastering a smile on my face, even while my stomach turned upside-down. Thomas, my betrothed, smiled down at me, his dark green eyes dancing like the chandeliers swinging above us. I glanced to my father, who gave a stern nod, looking only at Thomas as he did. I placed a gloved hand into Thomas' larger one, and followed him towards the dance floor. The sooner I got it out, the better, I tried to convince myself. It wasn't that I did not care for him, or even think I could lead a happy life with him. He would be the easiest person in the world to love, I was sure. The problem was with me. I did not want to be in love, or spend my time running a household or mothering children. I wanted to make myself into something great, like all these men in this room. I was just as capable of it as them, I felt it deep within me.

" You look excite tonight, lilac certainly suits you," Thomas murmured as he led me into the elegant Polonaise dance.

"Thank you," I replied, the canapé I had devoured upon arriving now going sour in my stomach.

"What, no quips or jests at my appreciation of your appearance?" Thomas mused, swinging me gently around him. I kept my eyes focused on a painting on the wall, it seemed to be one of passion. My chest heaved and I fought to get the words out.

"Thomas I- well I do not quite know how to say it-"

"Something is the matter, isn't it?" His warm breath tickled the back of my neck, gently rustling the few blonde curls that fell there.

"My heart, tell me what is wrong," He pushed when I did not immediately answer.

"I cannot marry you," I said in a rush. Thomas continued to turn me through the dance for a few beats, saying nothing. Just when I had began to think he had not understood me, dreading having to repeat the cursed words, he whispered, "Why?" I looked for the explanation I had so carefully crafted all day, but before I could tell him he went on.

"Is it my position? Do I not have enough money for you? Or is it your father? I can-"

"Thomas, nothing is wrong with you. Quite the opposite, really." The song ended, and a new one began. Thomas spun me to face him, pulling me close as the waltz began. Looking into his face, his eyes, made it so much more difficult. I wanted to take it back. I wanted to throw up. Maybe I could still take it back, make some excuse for this insanity.

"What is the issue then? Char, please give me a solution. I thought we would have a love like my parents," He whispered the last part, and I felt my heart shatter. I had to end this. He deserved that, a marriage full of love.

"Tommy, I cannot give you that love. I am so sorry. But you deserve it, more than anyone I know." Despite propriety, I reached a hand out to cup his cheek, feeling tears slide down my own cheeks.

"How could I be more for you? I will be," He tried, and I shook my head so hard I felt the style start to slip.

"No," I said, willing my tears to ebb, "I cannot marry you because I cannot marry anybody, Thomas. I have- I have too many thoughts. I want to make an impact on this world, be, write, something great. I would be a horrible wife, and a worse mother. You deserve better than that," I said, working to steady my breathing, to steady my heart.

"What will you do for money? Your life, the comforts you enjoy, you need money for that. How will you do that if you do not marry?" Thomas asked earnestly. Of course, even if I chose not to be with him, he still cared about my well-being. We were friends long before he ever proposed to me. Again, I was reminded that he was far too good for me.

"I hadn't yet decided now to go about that," I admitted, looking away.

"I'll speak to your father. If you truly have no wish to marry, perhaps he would use your dowry send you to University," Thomas pondered.

"You would do that for me? Even though I have ended our engagement?" I asked in awe, my stomach now turning with excitement. His eyes were soft as his feathery brown hair when he looked down at me again.

"I would do anything for you, and if letting you go will make you happy, I will do that with as much grace as I can muster." The song ended, and Thomas stepped away from me. He did not look back as he strode for my father, and the two exchanged some words before heading for the far corridor, likely to find a private room. I took a steadying breath, slowly walking toward the lemonade table., unable to bear looking at my mother just yet. I could not imagine what this would do to her nerves. She had been so pleased when Thomas proposed. I wish I could say the same fro myself. I had thought I would be. He was the only man in the Ton I could fathom spending my life with, but after he proposed a, a small seed of doubt grew into a forest of worries.

"Well, did you do it then?" A small voice startled me out of my thoughts, and I turned to find my closest friend staring at me with large round eyes. I took her arm to lead her in a turn about the room, quietly filling her in on my conversation with Thomas.

"Do you think your father would allow it?" She murmured thoughtfully, after some time.

"I could not say," I sighed. Then I saw Thomas emerge from the corridor. I rushed for him, leaving my friend, Jane, behind. Before I had a chance to open my mouth, Thomas said, "We will try to send you, he has agreed. There has never been a woman allowed to attend University at Oxford or Cambridge. However, we may be able to arrange private lessons. I must go, I will be in correspondence with regards to your education." He turned and swiftly left, too quickly for me to follow. It was then I realized he had not even looked at me after speaking to father. I looked toward the corridor, my father was standing there, eyes boring into me with the intensity of the sun, his hand firmly in his coat pockets. Somehow, despite the good news regarding my education, I felt there was more. I did not think I was getting out of this engagement so easily.