As her eyes bore into me, all I can think is that I must look pretty. All I can think to talk about is family trifles and then I stupidly bring up marriage. Thankfully Marian joins us; she is oblivious to our stolen kisses and my thoughts that race and race and make me sound stupid. At least I manage to remain looking pretty.

Father told me to be pretty. That was all he ever said. He never said I was pretty – just that I should look it. That way, he said, I would be chosen. The pretty girls are chosen. I wasn’t entirely sure what I would be chosen for, or if I ever would be, but the way he said it made it sound important. My maids said it too – this will make you look pretty, they’d say, as they tore through my hair with a comb. This will make you look pretty, they’d say, as they tightened my corsets. This will make you look pretty, my mother would say, as she had me fitted for a new dress.

I was never sure if looking pretty was worth it.

Miss Lister

Miss Walker is naturally very pretty and makes me feel less so in her presence. Look pretty my dear, Mother would bark at me and at poor unpretty Marian. As if saying it would make us so. Luckily, she gave up on that quickly. Then it was, do not be too intelligent or people will not like you. Why does a girl need to study, Jeremy, why do we need to send our daughter to school? She quickly changed her mind when Father said I would be out of sight, out of mind. He winked at me as he said it. The annoying old fool was right though: being out of the sight and mind of my mother was the best thing that could have happened to me.

I knew from a young age that I was more intelligent than her and I believe she knew it too. I kept her at arm’s length, answered dutifully and ‘looked pretty’ as best I could. Arguing only ever resulted in being sent to my room, so I just stayed there. Marian was no help. She was Mamma’s little girl. She at least tried to look pretty, though she was far from it. She made an effort to be graceful, to play the piano and sew. I did these too but always with an air of resentment as I would have rather been outside with Father or out riding with Samuel when he was home, or alone reading a book. Anything but making small talk and being told to push my shoulders back, or what colours would suit me best.