Free The Marriage Machine by Patricia Simpson Page A

concentrate on her toilette. Hiding her nakedness as best she could, Elspeth bathed portions of herself at a time. She wished she had been given a razor to shave her legs and underarms. She didn’t know much about what went on after a marriage ceremony, but she had heard that most women shaved their entire bodies in preparation for the wedding night. Her spouse would be forced to deal with her natural body. Too bad for him.
    The thought that the man might have to suffer a little in return cheered her a bit. But she still felt the looming guillotine blade poised above her maidenhood. She knew most women would laugh at her for feeling such desperation, especially since she was to be married on the holiday and to a man that was probably in a lofty position. Who knows, she could even be marrying Mark Ramsay’s brother, Thomas. But that thought plunged her even deeper into despair. How would she ever endure a life married to one brother while she longed for the company of the other? Perhaps the Marriage Machine would wipe her memory clean of her feelings for Mark. She could only hope it would.
    The future is for times ahead, not for the present hours’ dread.
    Elspeth smiled grimly as she splashed cold water over her face.
    Finally, a shred of dogma that proved useful. Or maybe it was the harbinger of her downward spiral. Dogma was starting to make sense.
    After she finished washing herself, she dragged on her underclothes and dropped her only good dress over her shoulders. She felt her spirits sink as the black silk settled around her ankles. It was really going to happen. She was going to step inside the Marriage Machine. She was going to become some man’s wife.
     
    At three, the guards came for her. They took her elbows and guided her down the dark corridor to the wagon just outside the back door of the detention center. She tried to get a glimpse of the outdoors, but they forced her head down and shackled her in the windowless cab in back. One of the guards sat across from her, tapping his enforcement stick on his knees and glaring at her, as if he expected her to lunge forward and attack him. He didn’t say a single word to her on the ride to Boswellian Bower.
    Because she was a criminal, she was ushered into a side door of the building and dragged through the dark to the left wing of the stage. When her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she discovered that she stood with four other young ladies, all dressed in long gowns. One had gloves on. One had pulled her hair back with simple combs. Another wore a small gold bracelet around her wrist. One had even stained her lips and cheeks with cosmetics. Such luxuries were allowed once in a lifetime. Only Elspeth stood unadorned, with her ash-colored hair hanging to her waist.
    “Happy C-Day,” the gloved young woman whispered to her.
    “And to you,” Elspeth replied. “What is going on?”
    “The last group just finished. We’re next.”
    “Is there any kind of order?”
    “There was a number on your card. Didn’t you notice?”
    Elspeth had only looked at the address and time of day. “I confess I didn’t.”
    “Well, I’m number twenty,” the girl said, peering past the curtain into the crowd. “And I’m on pins and needles. Someone said the Ramsay family is here.”
    “I believe they are.” Elspeth strained to look over the other woman’s shoulder. The auditorium was dark. All she could see was a room full of white faces in a sea of black staring up at the stage. “I’ve heard Thomas Ramsay is to be married today.”
    “One of us may be marrying a Ramsay?” whispered the young lady with the combs. She crowded in to look. Even in the dim light, Elspeth could see her eyes sparkling with eagerness. “Where are they? I’ve never seen any of the Ramsays.”
    Elspeth scanned the crowd, and caught sight of a wheelchair rolled against the left wall of the auditorium. Surely the Ramsay family would have the best seats. She surveyed the front row until she spotted