Borne in Blood by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

attention from you. They have lost much. You know what it’s like, becoming an orphan suddenly.” He smacked his lips as he poured out soup for himself. “I depend upon you. Yes, I depend upon you, to shepherd them through their first months here. Let them benefit from your experience, if you will.”
    “I suppose I can,” she said, imagining her uncle in the girls’ beds already.
    “Calm their little fears, keep them from … from making fools of themselves. They may be disconcerted for a time, and you may spare them difficulties.” He took the largest slice of bread and slathered it well. “You know how it is.”
    “Yes,” she said tonelessly; when she had told the minister’s wife what her uncle did to her at night, when she was nine, the minister had beaten her for lying and ingratitude. Perhaps she could spare the girls that humiliation. Much as she did not want them here, she did not want them exposed to such degradation even more.
    “Good; good.” He consumed a good portion of soup, finally saying, “This journey to Amsterdam—you will need a few new gowns for it. I will arrange for you to visit Frau Amergau for a fitting some day next week, so she will have them ready in time for your travels. You’ll want a walking-dress, a morning-dress, a calling-dress, and something for fancy occasions. I can’t have my ward presenting a shabby appearance, not if I intend to marry her well. I might even provide for a dancing-master, so you may participate in the balls in Trier and Amsterdam.”
    “Thank you, Uncle,” she said, despising herself for feeling grateful to him.
    “Accept Constanz Medoc and I will consider it money well-spent.” He drank more wine, apparently unaware of her widen eyes.
    “Constanz Medoc?” she burst out, her eyes filling with tears. “The one who came here two years ago?” She didn’t add the old man, for he was more than forty.
    “Yes; yes.” Von Ravensberg nodded. “A very good man, my girl.”
    “But he’s bald! ” Hyacinthie sobbed, trying to express her repugnance without exposing herself to her uncle’s disdain. “And he smells of snuff.”
    “He’s bald because he thinks so much. He is a most upstanding man, with an excellent reputation, one he has worked hard to establish and maintain. He is a very well-respected scholar, one whose work is known throughout Europe. He has been searching for a wife, a woman to ornament his life and tend to his pleasure. He is of an age when he wants children to carry on his name. His expectations are reasonable; the wildness of his youth is gone.” He stopped, staring at her. “But you seem distressed.”
    “Because I am! ’ She pushed back from the table and lurched to her feet. “I don’t like him, Uncle Wallache.”
    “You don’t know him, my child. No doubt you have dreamed of a handsome young man who will carry you away to the city. Cities are dangerous places, and handsome young men have poor judgment in such matters. You are trying to suit your dreams to your life, and that is most unwise.” He patted the table next to her place. “Sit down; sit down. You’re overwrought. I oughtn’t to have told you all this so suddenly.” He waited while she complied. “You won’t have to marry him if you truly dislike him. But you will have to marry someone, and you may decide, after you have a look at the world, that there are many worse men than Herr Medoc, for all his father was a Frenchman. I am in no position to keep you around here forever, and I will not have my niece working as a governess or a tutor. You know how that would reflect upon me, to have you earn your living. That would abash the family. So. A year from now at most, if you have not made another choice, I will accept Herr Medoc’s very gracious offer for your hand.”
    “But how can I find anyone else?” she wailed. “Ravensberg is leagues away from anything !”
    “Perhaps in Amsterdam, or in one of the cities during our travels, you will find a