Chapter Text
Australia 1903
She sat quietly on the window seat, eyes lost to the Pacific.
The steady pelt of rain was relaxing enough, though the awkward angle kept her from drifting off. Sleep rarely came easy--most nights she tossed in bed, eager to dream, desperate for rest. When she was younger, thoughts of her parents, long dead, plagued her mind, but the cause of her insomnia as a grown woman was more difficult to define. Besides, she did not want to sleep.
Rey wanted nothing but the sea. Dark, churning, fathomless.
Don’t be a fool. Just go back to bed.
But she couldn’t.
Not when he was in it.
After having slept on her own for nearly twenty years, it seemed utterly ridiculous that a few words and a gold band meant she was now expected to share the most personal of spaces.
Of course that’s what it means, you idiot. What did you expect when you said yes in the first place? She glanced back at the figure in the bed. Her bed. Well the hotel’s bed, but still. He had come to her room even before the first of their guests had left, flinging his waistcoat, eyes heavy with drink.
The creak of bed springs as he climbed atop her.
The unfamiliar soreness between her legs.
Poe Dameron. Her husband.
Just get back in bed.
She wouldn’t. At least not yet. What if she woke him up and he wanted to...do that again? No, she would wait until morning.
The bed covers rustled as Poe shifted. She held her breath, half expecting him to call out for her, but he didn't.
Rey rested her head against the window with a sigh. She would cry, but not now.
Maybe one day when the shock of what she had consented to had worn off and the complete and utter mess she had made of her life was no longer so obvious.
Maybe.
But until then, it was her burden to carry and she would not show an ounce of regret.
Rey Andor, the only niece of Lord Benjamin Kenobi, Earl of Devaron, was to sail with her uncle from London to Sydney under the guise of business, but before she had even stepped foot on the ship, it became apparent to the nineteen year old that her uncle had an ulterior motive.
“Twelve gowns,” Rey peered into one of the six large French steam trunks Rose was helping her to pack. “Why on earth would I need twelve gowns ?” Her hand trailed the delicate green silk of an evening dress, one of her favorites.
“Don’t touch that,” Rose good-naturedly slapped Rey’s hand away. “Maybe your uncle wants you to...be prepared for every eventuality.”
“Every eventuality?” Rey scoffed, turning from the trunks to the worn leather satchel--her father's--that she was to use as a travel purse. “Like what, an audience with His Majesty? Besides,” she continued, shoving her hairpin case, brush, book and a few other personal items into the bag, “when Uncle asked me to accompany him, he told me we would be having a few luncheons with a business associate. I assumed my regular traveling clothes would suffice.” Rey advanced on her lady's companion, who--determinedly folding and refolding a pair of peach-colored knickers--refused to meet her eye. “Why do I need twelve formal gowns for passage when I'm to be fitted for a new wardrobe once we arrive?”
Rose latched up the trunk. “I think you should ask your uncle, my lady.”
“Rose,” Rey begged, “don’t you ‘my lady’ me. You know something I don't. I can tell. You've been avoiding me all week and you can’t even look at me right now. What is it, then?" Rey petted her lower lip in a gesture that was playfully pathetic.
It was the lip that did it, and Rose grabbed Rey’s hand, leading her to the curtained window and away from the bedroom door. “I'll tell you Rey," she whispered, "but I wasn't supposed to say a word. Will you promise not to be upset that I kept this from you?” Rey nodded conspiratorially. “Or tell your uncle you heard it from me?”
“Yes, yes, get on with it,” her smile victorious.
The words came out in a rush. "Last Sunday, I was taking tea in the sun room, you know that little table by the door, and I overheard Master Kenobi talking to his solicitor as they walked passed. Your uncle is going introduce you to some rich American suitor on your trip. I didn’t catch his name, but he's in his thirties, and is the nephew of the Solos. The ones with the sugarcane in Hawaii.”
Rey felt the muscles harden in her face as her smile bled into a tight lipped look of disbelief. "I'm sorry--what?"
"Your uncle is to inform you today of his marriage proposal. The contracts just need to be signed. I was going to run and tell you straight away but my spoon slipped and Master Kenobi realized I was listening and made me swear up and down not to tell you."
“Are you absolutely certain?”
Rose nodded solemnly, her hair framing her face. “He’s just arrived in town and has business in Sydney with your uncle.”
“I…” Rey trailed off, voice breaking, mouth dry. Her eyes, usually warm and mischievous, were narrowed in something akin to betrayal. “I'm going for a walk in the garden. Do not follow me.”
Toeing the damp grass at the edge of the pond, Rey racked her brain for all the details she could remember about her uncle's dearest friends.
Despite the intimacy of the connection, Rey had met with the Solos only a few times before, on their rare trips to London. Together they would attend the theater and dinners; while her uncle and Mr. Solo discussed business and past exploits, Rey spent most of the time making small talk with Mrs. Solo, deflecting questions about parties (not that she was allowed to attend) and gentlemen (not that she was allowed to entertain). Their last meeting had been nearly four years ago.
The Solos lived in Hawaii and were in the sugarcane business. Twice a year, on Christmas and on her birthday, Rey received an expensive gift and handwritten letter from the family, inquiring after her health and extending an invitation to visit--an invitation that was always deferred at the behest of her uncle. 'Next year, dearest,' he would tell her.
There was a son. She knew that at least, as the younger Solo was her uncle's namesake--though Rey could not remember if they had ever met. There were rumors that he was something of an invalid and had been sent away to some sort of institution as a child.
But that was the extent of Rey's association with the family. She had never accompanied her uncle on his annual trips to the Hawaiian islands, or anywhere else for that matter. Her seclusion on the estate was the very reason Rey was so excited to travel to the new Commonwealth of Australia. This would be her first real trip. Her uncle promised her time to sightsee with Rose and as much pocket money as she could carry.
She was never allowed anywhere on her own. Didn’t have any real friends, save for Rose (not that she would trade Rose for a million companions), and unlike the female relatives of other members of the peerage, Rey could neither host or attend formal events without her uncle at her side. She had even begged her uncle last year for the chance to attend university to no avail. If it was schooling she was after, he countered, a tutor would be sent for.
Now here he was, planning marriage without consulting her. She was to have a suitor in his thirties. Rey had seen a few acquaintances marry men who were significantly older (and richer), but she was only nineteen. What could she possibly have in common with such a man? What was her uncle thinking!
“I’m getting old Rey, nearly sixty.” Benjamin Kenobi held up a hand to preemptively silence the forthcoming argument from his niece. “Don’t give me that look. I was already of age when your mother was born to my father and step-mother. As fond as I was of my little sister before her death, you are as dear to me as any child of my own could hope to be.”
Kenobi plucked the spectacles from his face to better survey the pretty woman who kneeled at his chairside. “It has been an honor and a pleasure to watch you grow into the woman you are today, Rey. You clever, stubborn girl. I wouldn't trade you for anything.” He sighed. “But as I said, dearest, I am getting old now and it is my wish to see you settled and happy with a family of your own should anything happen to me.”
Rey considered her words a moment before replying. “Uncle, you are the only family I could ever want. And I would do anything for you. But, "she tightened the grip she had on his hand. "We’ve never discussed marriage. I'm not sure I have thought much about it.”
Kenobi chuckled. “That may be true, but all young girls want to marry, and marry well. Besides, have you thought perhaps I am eager for grandchildren running around my hearthstone? Hmmm? I need someone to scold Rey, and you are far too big now.” He opened his mouth as if to say more but used his free hand to stroke his beard instead.
She had met with him at their usual dinner time, cheeks flushed from both the excursion of her walk and anger at her guardian's deception.
They ate, her uncle discussing the importance of his holdings in Australia (which had only recently been granted independence), but after, the elderly man led her to the cushioned ottoman situated beside his chair and delivered the news.
“I would do anything to make you happy Uncle, you know that, but I’ve never met him. Perhaps if you had told me earlier--”
“So you could come up with some halfcocked excuse to decline? No, Rey, I approve of this match. I want you take it seriously. For me.”
“I'm only nineteen,” she plead, desperately.
“And your mother was only seventeen when I arranged her marriage to Andor. It was my responsibility after the death of my father.”
She shook her head slowly. This would not be an argument she won. Just like her mother before her, Rey would have no say in the rest of her life. Things were forever being chosen for and dictated to her.
“Rey, I won’t force you into anything.” Kenobi continued, “But...I do insist that you meet Mr. Dameron. Spend some time together with him on the ship. I’ve known his family my entire life. I trust them. I need you to trust me.” Rey turned her face to the fire, hoping the heat would dry her tears before they fell.
“Why now, Uncle? Why the rush, the secrecy?” her voice was little more than a whisper.
He ignored her query. “If it turns out you two do not get along, or there is some other unforeseen obstacle, I will drop the matter. But Rey, for my sake, consider it.”
“I trust your judgment completely, Uncle.” That was a bit of a lie, but what else could she say? While she loved her uncle and did trust that he kept her best interests in mind, she knew that he wasn't being completely honest with her. In fact, he almost never was.
After years of questioning his authority and decisions as an impulsive child, Rey had come to accept that it must be a part of his nature to never share his real motivations or intentions, and not wishing to displease him, kept her suspicions to herself.
But this. She hadn’t had a come out, she hadn’t met any other men. He wouldn’t...he couldn’t...and she began to tell him so, but before she could argue further, her uncle placed a soft, dry hand against her cheek.
"Do you know, Rey, that I named you? The first time I held you."
Rey looked up, startled. "I didn't."
"Yes, well, it suited you then, and it suits you still. Now," he clapped his hands together, "let’s pester cook about our dessert.” The discussion was over.
As she assisted her beloved uncle from his seat, a wave of determined affection overtook her, and Rey vowed, that no matter how insufferable this Mr. Dameron was, she would not disappoint Benjamin Kenobi. She wouldn’t argue with him. How could she? He had taken her in when she had nobody else.
Rey owed him this, at the very least.
She woke with a start, her husband’s firm grasp on her shoulder. The sun was heavy in the sky and Poe was already shaved and dressed. “Your breakfast is here. I’ll call Rose to help you dress.”
Still blinking the sleep from her eyes, Rey Dameron stretched before taking his proffered hand. Her body was sore from the position she fell asleep in and embarrassment coursed through her as she realized the neck of her unbuttoned gown had slipped down her shoulder, revealing the curve of her breast. She pulled away from Poe and hastily righted her clothing.
If Poe was annoyed he didn’t show it.
“Come down to the lounge when you’re finished. I’d like to discuss some things with you before you leave.”
“Certainly.” Certainly? God, Rey can you sound anymore ridiculous? He nodded at Rose, who clomped in, laden with articles of silk and cambric.
The door shut with a sound click of the latch, and before another moment passed, Rose had flung the expensive garments onto the bed and took a trembling Rey into her arms.
“Was it that bad? Was he rough? I've heard men can be rough when in the throes of passion.”
Only Rose. “No, it wasn’t that bad," she lied, grabbing the hem of her nightdress and pulling it over her head until she stood naked, and waited for Rose to hand her the day’s undergarments.
It was not uncommon for Rey to undress in front of Rose; but rather than politely disregard Rey's nudity as was proper, today her companion was staring intently. And rather rudely.
“What in the world are you looking at?” Rey demanded, fearful that she hadn’t completely cleaned the smear of blood that had stained her inner thighs the night before. The suite, if one could call it that, didn’t offer its own washroom and it was mortifying, after he had finished with her, to have to use the small sink, his eyes trained on her hand as she cleaned herself as best she could while trying to keep her nightgown over her knees.
If there was one thing she hadn’t expected on her wedding night, it was the mess her husband would leave behind.
“Well,” Rose knelt, holding open a pair of lacy bloomers for Rey to step into. “Paige said that after a man beds you, you’re ruined.” Rose looked the flushing girl up and down with interest. “You look the same to me.”
“Rose!” Rey pulled a soft camisole over her bare chest, as Rose brought round the corset. She ought to kick Rose out and finish dressing on her own. But she was curious. “What do you mean ruined?”
“Well, Paige told me that after a lady's first time with a man you're ruined and no other man will ever want you. I think,” Rose screwed up her nose while buttoning up the corset, “it has something to do with your bits. Maybe it ruins you...down there?” Rose offered helpfully, handing Rey a pair of grey silk stockings. “That way no one but your husband will want you.”
“My bits are--aren’t ruined!” Rey stuttered, horrified. She didn’t feel ruined (and whatever that entailed), but then again, what did she know? She'd gone to the marriage bed essentially blind. "Can we not right now, Rose?" Her lack of knowledge on the subject of sex had never been more evident.
Her uncle had never come close to broaching the subject, and the only female she felt comfortable enough with was, apparently, just as ignorant as she. There were novels and romances of course, and gossip from the servants, but nothing specific. Am I ruined? Not that she planned on being with anyone else for the rest of her life, she was raised better than that, but the thought of being physically damaged was disheartening. Besides, she thought, of course losing one's virginity didn't stop men from...she had heard stories of women who--but no. She was married and it didn't matter. There would never be anyone else.
" Maybe ruined isn't the right word. I just know that now you belong to your husband." Rose looked at her intently, taking a step back. "That's what you wanted, right? You said the last night on the ship you were ready for this. That you'd changed your mind and loved him. You did fall in love with him, didn't you?
Rey lied again, reaching for her petticoat. "Of course I did. I'm adjusting, is all."
Satisfied enough, Rose pointed to the almost forgotten breakfast. “Eat then. You have to be at the docks by noon, and Mr. Dameron wants you downstairs before you leave.”
“I can’t believe he’s staying here with Uncle to finalize business,” Rey complained, a mouth full of cold egg. “I mean,” she swallowed, “he expects me to just show up at his family home. 'Hey, it's Rey, where do I sleep?'”
Rose grunted noncommittally, brushing Rey’s hair.
“I don’t think I care one way or the other, but...I just cannot believe I won't be going back home.” Rey drank down the rest of her tea. “I guess, I am going home.”
Rose pinned the last tendril in place. “And I can't believe I have to stay here for another week. I want to see Hawaii so bad, Rey! I heard some of the sailors down at breakfast. Palm trees and warm water you can swim in! Even the women go swimming! The last time he went Lord Kenobi brought me back that beautiful shell, do you remember? He says you can walk up to the water and pluck them off the beach yourself!”
Rey walked to the door, smoothing the ruffled front of her dress. It would be strange traveling without her uncle or Rose, the former staying behind for business purposes with her new husband, the latter standing in for her uncle's valet who had come down with a case of the measles the day before the wedding. Rey had insisted Rose keep by her uncle's side in case he began to show signs of the illness, as Rose had already contracted the disease as a young girl. Few things terrified her more than the thought of losing the only parent she ever knew.
She was scared enough as it was; scared of voyaging alone for many months to a tropical island she had never before stepped foot on. Scared about leaving her uncle’s home for the home of a man she barely knew.
But she was especially scared to walk downstairs. Every single person would be aware of just what had occurred in her room on her wedding night. It was utterly humiliating.
But her earlier resolve to make the best of it seeped through her low spirits, and with head held high, she took to the stairs to meet her new husband and uncle in the lounge.