And so it all came to happen much quicker than I had expected. I had only just told those closest to me of my betrothal to Mister Hayward when father announced to me the wedding would be sooner than the set date in spring. It would seem my Mister Hayward had been impatient. Ever so characteristic for him to skip formalities and proper tradition in favour of practically. I find it dully offensive, that I was not asked my opinion on the proceedings and lost precious time in which to regret my decision. Fortunately my misery has subsided to compromised acceptance.
I am now Mrs. Hayward and what a common name that is. My maiden name of Rosethorn will eternally be more dear to me. Will I ever become used to presenting myself as 'Wisterhya Hayward'? Goodness, I hope not.
Mister Hayward has thus far been civil with me, and I with him, but my dreams of everlasting blissful love has been stolen by pragmatism. I fear it is my own fault, stained by my pride to wait for a suitor of good means and my morals of not pretending to care. I cannot love those that swore to love me, and I wish Mister Galpsi and Mister Brownlock good fortunes and wives that truly can adore them like they adored me. Mister Hayward has not a droplet of love for me and so we are well and even.
I am a terrible person. As formerly written, my misery has subsided, but my disgust still resides deep within me and has lead me to horrible thoughts and things. I will gladly go childless in spite of Mister Hayward's ambitions of a male heir to his company. I will admit, only in confident secrecy, that I am regularly eating herbs to keep from conceiving. It is the last definite control I have of my situation. If not for the encouragement of those closest to me, I would not have dreamt of such an offense to my husband. I find myself justified in the sympathy of Thadirin and Arindiis, who are both puzzled by my decision to finally marry.
The thought of running away was indeed deeply rooted in my conscious for a long time, but in the end, I could not do so. I can not bring myself to never speak with my family again nor leave my birthplace of Breeland. The terrible things I told Thadirin that night: wishing to be a childless widow, by extension wishing death on my husband. To think I wished for that is beyond my comprehension. The Hayward estate is a good place. His housekeeper is skilled and his daughter works hard to serve us. It is a luxury, really, to be the head of the household. While I miss my maiden-room in the Rosethorn estate, I am settling in well here in Staddle.
