Another?" I ask.
"I'm afraid so, James. You never know, she could be the one." My father unhelpfully replies.
"She could be." I lie. She could never be.
I just wish they would stop, just for a day, and all the beautiful ladies, and the constant proposals, and the lies could just go away and let us be together. But I can never tell anyone. Ever. I can never be released. I have to keep up this stupid game of-
"James?"
"Wh- Yes, sorry, I... zoned out." I head downstairs to the west wing, where all the proposals take place. It's a lavish, velveted area with the latest in gas lamps lining the walls, that certainly gives a good impression of our wealth. I've taken to betting on what kind of person they will be. As I enter our lobby, I see a rich father waiting impatiently, so my mind jumps to strategic marrying. After some fake smiles and small talk on both sides, we head through to the ground floor lounge, and I see her shoot a pleading look at her stony faced guardian. Definitely not marrying from her heart. I'm getting far too good at this shitty charade.
My eyes lock onto Sam out the window working outside, and I regain some small hope for my future, some small hope that we could be together eventually, but for now, I turn to the poor girl in front of me, and listen with feigned care to her, and when I sense she has finished, I decline as politely as possible. The man I assume to be her father seems more annoyed than her, and in fact she seems relieved. I give my apologies, then leave as quickly as possible. My father ushers them both out the door, and I return to sitting, in my room, all alone.
But before I get back to that, I think an introduction is in order. My name is James Edevane, and I don't need to know yours. My life looks great from the outside. I'm rich, I live in a manor just outside Northampton, and I have all the facilities 1863 has to offer. Women are throwing themselves (or their fathers are throwing them) at my doorstep nonstop. Who wouldn't be loving every minute? But no one seems to realise that I don't want them. No woman in the world could match Sam. He's kind, thoughtful, handsome, hardworking... And the family's gardening boy. We're on completely different levels, different classes, I shouldn't even know he exists. Not to even mention the fact that, well, he's a boy. And so am I. Even if we could be together, I would be completely disowned, kicked out and cut off. He'd lose his job, and we could never show our faces in public again. So we wait. We talk when we can, which isn't often, and hope our lives improve.