A young man sat at a piano overlooking the grim village of which he didn’t care to know the name. He began to play a melancholy tune that fit the setting of the village, but also the way he felt. A small butterfly was trapped beneath a glass cover, the poor thing looking for a plan of escape. He observed the butterfly for a few seconds as it slammed itself against the glass. Who knew how long it had been in there? He young man opened a window and released the butterfly from its glass prison.

 “Blaine Anderson, I can hear you mucking about with that godforsaken piano. We have to go, son. We can’t keep the Berry’s waiting.” His mother yelled from the floor below him.

Blaine sighed; he closed the lid over the keys of the piano and turned to the mirror next to the door. He observed his hair, plastered to his head, as it usually was when he had to attend a family function. His bowtie was askew and black. The rest of his suit was a similar shade of black with grey accents. The outfit seemed to be a physical representation of the mood he was in. Blaine looked around the room once more and left, closing the door behind him.

 “Ah there you are son, come along, we have to get to the Berry’s for the wedding rehearsal. Wouldn’t want to be late, eh m’boy?” his father clapped him on the shoulder. Blaine got into the carriage just as they were to leave.

 “Looks like you’ve certainly hooked a winner this time Blaine.” His dad beamed at him from across the carriage.

  “Now all you’ve got to do is reel her in.” His mother added harshly.

“Mother, Father, shouldn’t Miss Berry be marrying a l-lord or something?” Blaine stuttered nervously.

 “Nonsense!  We’re every bit as good as the Berry’s.”

“But, she’s my closest friend mother. We’ve written each other every week since we were children.” Blaine reminded her. His mother acted as if Blaine hadn’t spoken.

 “All we must do is ensure that everything goes perfectly, and according to plan, Blaine.” Said his father.

A slim, impeccably poised woman and her short, round husband descended the stairs at their butlers dusted every inch of the house, neither of them looking joyous in the least.

"It’s a terrible day; it’s a terrible day for a wedding rehearsal.” The woman lamented.

“Don’t be that way.” The man huffed from beside her.

“I am having second thoughts about marrying our daughter to a common family of fish mangers, it couldn’t be worse to be brutally honest.” The woman snarled. “It couldn’t be worse.”

“I’m afraid I disagree. They could be land rich, but bankrupt without a penny to their name like you and me. Our daughter will wed according to plan, and with that marriage our family, we, will be led from the depths of poverty.” The man reminded her.

Upstairs, a young girl sat at her vanity while her maid tightened her corset. He appeared to be quite distressed over the prospect of marrying her closest friend.

“What if Blaine and I aren’t right for each other.” She lamented, she of course knew of Blaine’s secret. She knew why he didn’t want to be married. And she was the only person who knew, the only person that could understand Blaine’s pain.

“As if that has anything to do with marriage.” Her mother scoffed as she entered the room. “Do you think your father and I like each other?”

“Surely you must, at least a little bit, mother.” The girl prompted.

The man and woman looked at each other skeptically, they laughed awkwardly.  “No. Definitely not.”

The man and woman left the room as the girl, with her maid’s help, put her dress on with a deep sigh, wondering why things had to be the way they were.

 “Blaine, stand up straight! Fix your bowtie! You hair isn’t gelled down properly!” his mother fussed as they stood at the door awaiting the Berrys to answer.

The heavy door was then opened by a butler, and they were escorted into the house. Blaine’s mother began to compliment the house and its size.

“It’s not quite as big as ours, a bit shabby too.” Blaine’s father drawled. His wife smacked him on the back of the head “Shut up” she warned.

“Lord and Lady Berry, Mister and Miss Anderson.” The butler announced as the Berrys joined them in the entrance.

“Why, you must be Miss Rachel! I must say you don’t look a day over twenty.” Mr. Anderson addressed Lady Berry.

“Welcome, to our home” Lord Berry forced out a grim smile.

“We’ll be having tea in our dining area, it’s straight through here, do follow us please.”  Lady Berry grimaced. The five of them headed towards the next room. Blaine hung back from the crowd, and was torn away at the sight of a grand piano sitting there, just waiting to be played. He backed away from the group slowly to stand before it. He nervously extended a hand and played a chord, looking around to see if anyone had heard. After a few seconds in which nothing happened, he sat down at the piano and began to play the same melancholy piece that he played earlier that morning. This time letting the melodies grow into a hopeful sounding climax. But upon that, he noticed a figure standing beside him and slammed his hand to the keys creating an unpleasant dissonant sound.

“You play beautifully Blaine.” Rachel smiled. Blaine stood up and gave her a long hug, the good thing about not being chaperoned was the fact that he could do this without scrutiny. Even if it was on a purely platonic level, there would always be another person judging, because that was someone one just never did with a woman they weren’t married to.

“It’s great to see you again Rachel.” Blaine smiled.

“My mother won’t let me near the piano; she says it isn’t proper for a young lady. Too passionate.” She lamented. There had been many times as children when Rachel would sneak over to Blaine’s house and he would teach her piano. She longed for those days back.

“Tomorrow, we’re to, we’re to be, m-m-“

“Married.” Rachel finished for him.

“Y-yes, married.” Blaine stuttered.

“Since I was a child, I always dreamed of my wedding day. I always hoped to find someone whom I was deeply in love with. Someone to spend the rest of my life with. Silly isn’t it?” She asked softly. “Blaine I’m so sorry that it can’t be that way for you. I wish we had been born in another place where we could love whomever we chose.”

“It’s alright Rachel. I’m happy that if I have to marry someone that it’ll be you.” Blaine forced a small smile. Blaine backed up slightly, and nearly knocked over a vase containing two roses, one red and one yellow. “Oh Rachel, I’m terribly sorry.”

Rachel took the roses and smelled them briefly, then put them in Blaine’s pocket.

“What impropriety is this?! You shouldn’t be alone together. Here it is, one minute before and you’re not at the rehearsal. Pastor Figgins is waiting.”