Constance — Hive

"Dressmaker please leave me, I will call her when I'm ready, it's not necessary for you to stay," I said to Peg, my personal servant who always accompanied me wherever I went.

"But my Lord, please let me stay, I cannot let you be alone."

"Why is it, Peg?"

"You just need to rest and recharge a little, then we will proceed," she replied.

"There's no need you to stay, I can do this, go ahead and see to other things, I'll call you, but not now," I said, raising my voice.

She almost broke a sweat as worry dominated her face. She was a good and loyal servant and always noticed when I was agitated even when I didn't show it.

"If you're sure, my Lady?"

"Yes, go," I said as I waved my hand.

As she turned around, I looked at myself in the mirror. I was dressed in my finest suit, waiting in a large, double-door, wooden bookcase that was the closest thing I ever had to a dressing table. I sat on the dressmaker's chair and examined myself once again.

"Constance, what can I say, I am a handsome man, beautiful and rich. Why wouldn't a woman want to marry me?" I mused aloud.

Now that I had my personal servant gone, I was free to speak and be myself without her sneering since she was of noble blood and I was the son of a prosperous merchant. I had to act laid back because that's how they expected me to be, smooth and sophisticated, but I was never raised to be like that and the closest to the right way I could ever portray was laid back and casual, which is all I really was, a laid back gentleman. The day I agreed to marry someone was a day my life had changed. I was a reluctant and proud bachelor that was unwilling to settle down. I was also exhausted every time I was around a woman because they all just wanted attention and it always came back to money. I was, however, fully convinced that I wouldn't change to be like them, always looking down on people, only because they weren't as well off as me.

"If you're sure of your choice then it's time to proceed," Frank finally said as he stood behind me.

I nodded, stood up and placed my hat on my head. I then walked out of the bedroom and met Frank who led me out of the house and down the stairs, then out of the large estate into the awaiting carriage.

We were off to the church, where my fiancée and her father were waiting. I was on my way to marry Constance and I couldn't help but sigh. I really didn't want to do this. I loved my bachelorhood and I didn't want it to end. I enjoyed the company of the people I knew, staying late into the night or sometimes coming in from a wild night just to rise the next day and do it all over again.

I didn't enjoy the idea of having to function like everyone else and go through the motions. I enjoyed my life, the freedom and pleasures that it granted me. I didn't want to be tied down and processed like I was an apple, stuffed and intended for consumption. I was resisting the shackles and holding on to the idea that I could settle down where ever and however I pleased.

"Would you like to ride in the coach or would you prefer to take the horse drawn carriage?" Frank asked.

I sighed and sat on the leather seat. I sometimes found myself completely stuck in this world, especially when it came to relationships.

It was the perfect chance to escape, but why would I want to escape. Why would I want a woman to be tied down, to be the one that would always wonder what would happen to her, if I left her or the world would take me away, not only in a metaphorical sense… but in a literal one?

For all important moments in your life, I find it necessary to lie and tell you that there is no chance of being tied down. That is not true, I suppose it's because it's more comfortable for men to be tied down and free to love whereas women represent to them, a pain, a nuisance, a problem and more often than not, a distraction. Whatever the case, I am knowledgeable on the power women hold over us gentlemen. I think it's stupid when a woman wants to be married because she might want to raise a family, she would want to start a home and she would want to create memories and memories are hard to come by and when you are face to face with society's view of a fair, good and proper wife and mother, all that you will ever be able to do is go through the motions. I have no doubt that it would have the opposite effect on her, creating more stress than it would help her and continue to trap her in.

"I'd like to ride," I answered, meeting Frank's gaze with my own. "Are you ready?"

"At your service," he replied, brushing his hat with his hand.

He shut the carriage door and walked back to the horses before lifting a ladder to adjust it.

I was listening to the horses' calm and steady breathing as they moved through the streets of a busy city. Frank opened the carriage door which caused me to take a sharp breathe since I was right next to it and I had to step out of the way to avoid getting hit by Frank. We were two blocks away from the church when Frank finally responded to my absentminded gaze.

"Watch where you're stepping, Sir. Allow me to help you. I can see as far back as the city's roof. My apologies."

I smiled to him before stepping back in and we began our journey to the church. We were getting closer, when I saw her, my betrothed.

She stared at me, quickly and with such effort it was obvious, her eyes were tearing up and were rimmed in bright red.

I took a sharp breath and the carriage jerked, causing me to stumble.

Her eyes then dropped and I saw her hands squeezed each other, her knuckles knitted. She was so nervous, her thick, dark eyebrows had furrowed as she stared down at the ground. She looked upset. I couldn't believe it.

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