A Torturous Marriage

Copyright ©2023 Camille Oster All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the work of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Camille Oster – Author Instagram: camilleoster_author Facebook: Email: [email protected] Contents 1. Chapter 1 2. Chapter 2 3. Chapter 3 4. Chapter 4 5. Chapter 5 6. Chapter 6 7. Chapter 7 8. Chapter 8 9. Chapter 9 10. Chapter 10 11. Chapter 11 12. Chapter 12 13. Chapter 13 14. Chapter 14 15. Chapter 15 16. Chapter 16 17. Chapter 17 18. Chapter 18 19. Chapter 19 20. Chapter 20 21. Chapter 21 22. Chapter 22 23. Chapter 23 24. Chapter 24 25. Chapter 25 26. Chapter 26 27. Chapter 27 28. Chapter 28 29. Chapter 29 30. Chapter 30 31. Chapter 31 32. Chapter 32 33. Chapter 33 34. Chapter 34 35. Chapter 35 36. Chapter 36 37. Chapter 37 38. Chapter 38 39. Chapter 39 40. Chapter 40 41. Chapter 41 42. Chapter 42 43. Chapter 43 44. Chapter 44 45. Chapter 45 46. Chapter 46 Other Books by Camille Oster Chapter one London, 1835The grinding lock of the debtor’s prison was one of the worst noises Imogen knew, but she smiled at the guard. They had the power to make life difficult for her father, so it was important to keep them on side. “Father,” Imogen said as she walked into his cell. In all, it was comfortable, if cold. Her father rose from his chair. She hated seeing him in here, like this, in such reduced circumstances. Their fall had come so suddenly. Investments that had gone bad, and had taken the family wealth with it. It had been a shock that she was still reeling from, but the worst had happened to her father, who’d been taken to this prison until the debts were paid. How to pay those debts was something she couldn’t get a grip on. “Don’t look so worried, love,” he said as he came over to peruse the basket she’d brought. “It’s all in hand, you’ll see.”A wan smile graced her lips. She’d stopped believing her father’s assurances, suspecting he’d been hiding how bad their position had become for quite a while. It was getting more difficult to believe that this was a temporary setback. The house they’d had to move out of wasn’t coming back to them, and they were likely going to stay in the rented room in what could only be described as being in ‘an unfortunate part of town.’ If she’d known this had been coming, she would have made different choices—bought less gowns, for one—but she’d had no idea. She couldn’t even ask her father how long he’d been hiding their deteriorating position. He steadfastly refused to discuss things, and she was starting to worry that he couldn’t be depended on to stem the damage that was being inflicted on them due to these bad investments. There was no improvement in sight, and she had now come to expect that things only got worse. “I brought a meat pie,” she said with a smile. “Mrs. Winters baked it especially for you.”Although they’d had to let go of the staff one by one, a neighbor, Mrs. Winters, had taken pity on them and helped guide them with things, like taking the laundry out to the washerwomen, and sweeping the floor, which they could manage, but cooking was a mystery to both her and her mother. Her sister, Adele, out of all of them, seemed most naturally inclined to it, but had little interest. Mrs. Winters helped them significantly in that regard. She was the kindest woman. Perhaps it was a good skill for Imogen to learn, as their marriage prospects had more or less collapsed. A great deal of Imogen’s time was now spent thinking about how they could reduce the damage for Adele. If only they could appeal to some distant relation to take her in and keep the scandal of the family’s misfortune from her. As for herself, she was too well known to even consider disassociating herself. She’d become a tale of woe—her absence whispered about in the corners of ballrooms. No invitations came now. She had no role in society. And she had no idea how to even make a role for herself outside of society—a world she didn’t know how to navigate. Maybe once Adele was settled, Imogen could take a position as a governess somewhere. Maybe in the distant wilds of the country—where no one had heard the name Imogen Warkworth, who had once been seen as a beauty of the season. “Ah, the mail has arrived,” her father said and walked to the bars, where the guard held a bundle of letters. “I’m hoping to receive some good news from my cousin,” he said.“In what regards?”“Never you mind, my dear,” he said reassuringly, but Imogen was not reassured. People had been kind, their family had been kind, but their needs exceeded the charity they could give. Most likely they had exhausted the charity of their kin by now. “I’m still hoping one of the investments will come through. Forestry in Canada.”Even Imogen knew that forestry investment took years to mature, because trees took years to mature. “I’m sure it will.”Her father sat down in his chair by the meagre fire and read his correspondence, and Imogen tidied the cell. It caused her mother too much distress to come here. It was a rare occasion she left her room as it was. “Oh my,” her father said. “What is it?” Imogen said, feeling the tension in her shoulders clench with the surprised tone of his voice.“A proposal. A marriage proposal. For you.”“Me?” Imogen said with surprise. Who would propose to her? No one had actually liked her enough to take on the mess that her family was. Her suitors had been lovely, but they had