After Lady Rothsfield’s death, any reins holding her father in check vanished and it seemed to Laura as if he overcame his grief by lavishing increasingly elaborate and expensive gifts on her, his only child. It was not enough though and soon Laura began to demand her inheritance, a sum of money left specifically by her mother for her only, to be granted once certain conditions were met.
“It will come to you if you marry before your twenty-first birthday,” Laura’s father said after a tediously long meeting with the family solicitor finally concluded with the pair of them remaining in the study and the solicitor hastily beating a retreat.
“I was in the meeting, father,” she replied, scowling at the back of the solicitor as the butler escorted him to the door. “I still don’t see why I can’t have my money now.”
“It doesn’t work like that darling girl. He did explain it to us.”
“But she was your wife. Doesn’t that make it your money? You could just give it to me.”
“I wish I could,” he said, his face pleading with her not to start screaming. “I truly do but unfortunately the will was explicit on that point.”
“But why does she want me married off?”
“I think your mother worried that…” he paused, as if trying to find the right words, “that you might not find a husband who appreciates your unique qualities.”
“You hate me don’t you?”
“No of course not. I love you Laura.”
“Then why are you doing this to me?”
“It is not I my sweet, it is the wish of your mother that you marry. I do not care if you remain a spinster all your life.”
“Of course you do not care.” Her voice rose and the foot stamping began. “I want my money!”
“You must marry first.”
“Never! I shall never marry.”
In the end her father was the one to marry, or to remarry in sin as Laura put it. It was the eve of Laura’s eighteenth birthday. A ball was held in the largest room of the house, the cream of local society in attendance. He brought over a woman to where Laura was sitting looking bored. “Darling,” he began. “I would like to meet Maria Sanderson.”
Laura shrugged. “I care not for your friends, father. I am more concerned with my distinct lack of dancing partners.”
“I have wonderful news,” her father continued. “We are going to be married.”
Laura’s face turned purple. “Mother not yet cold and you set up happy families with some trollop?” She got to her feet and stamped her foot. “I hate her and I hate you!” She ran from the room, not stopping until she reached her bedroom where she slammed herself into a chair. Looking into her dressing table mirror she added, “I hate them both!”
Despite her best efforts the wedding did take place. They did not seem to care for the whispers and gossip regarding remarriage. She felt the shame even if they did not. She refused to attend, remaining in her room and sobbing into her pillow, resolutely furious despite the new horse her father had just bought her in an effort to mend the divide between them. The day after the wedding she heard the two of them downstairs and decided it was time to move the attention from that slut back to herself where it belonged.
“Father, I need a new horse,” she said into the mirror several times, ensuring the right tone of voice.
Opening the bedroom door, she walked downstairs, hearing them laughing and joking as if they did not even care about her dead mother or about her. How dare they?
“Father, I need a new horse,” she said as she walked into the dining room.
Maria turned to her. “Laura, come in and sit down. We need to speak to you.”
She stuck her tongue out at the whore before turning back to her father. “I need a new horse. Will you get me one?”
“What’s wrong with Lancelot?” Lord Rothsfield replied. “Is he sick?”
“I saw her pat him. I don’t want him anymore.”
Maria stood up. “Laura, I would like you to sit down so we can talk to you for a minute.”
Laura turned to her and smiled. “I don’t take orders from sluts.”
“Laura!” her father spluttered. “Do not speak to my wife like that.”
“Your wife? Your wife? Your wife is dead in case you forgotten. That harpy has come here to bewitch your mind and steal my inheritance.”
She spun on her heels and stormed from the room, pausing just outside. This was always the time when her father would follow her, beg her indulgence, permit her any desire, anything to regain her affection. This time he did not.
Frowning, she turned back and overheard the two of them talking quietly.