Mr Darlington Ex Wife

Amara's Pov

On Friday night, I stood inside my bedroom preparing to sleep when I heard a loud knock on the door. I walked up to the door and pulled it open. Agnes, my mother's maid, smiled at me.

Agnes wore a long blue gown. She was a light-skinned young woman about my size. I am also twenty-four. I wore a long blue nightgown because it was already nighttime, around eleven o’clock on the thirty-first of December.

I had pulled my hair into a bun after drying it from my bath. “What do you want, Agnes?” I asked, meeting her eyes as she smiled back at me.

“Amara. I'm sorry to bother you, but your father sent for you,” Agnes said. I sighed. “But we just finished dinner. What does he want now? I’m not interested in the New Year celebration.”

Agnes smiled faintly. “I don’t know, but he’s downstairs with your mother, and the guests have all gone outside to prepare the fireworks.”

“All right. Tell my father I’ll be down soon. I need to use the restroom first,” I said. Agnes smiled and left.

I sighed, returned to my room, and headed to the restroom. Afterward, I walked downstairs through my father’s enormous mansion. We live on the outskirts of the city, in the countryside. Some would call it a village or a densely populated area, since my father serves as chief and oversees agricultural produce.

At home I am treated like a princess. My people admire and love me because my mother taught me to be kind and helpful. We were preparing to cross into a new year, and I felt uncertain about it.

I am my parents’ only child. I remain unmarried, and they are not pressing me to wed. My father is understanding, though many men have sought my hand, including my crush, Charles Wilfred. My father refused them all.

I do not know his reason, but my mother assured me he wants the best for me and would not give me to just any suitor who might treat me poorly. I understood and continued downstairs to the living room.

We live in a standard duplex surrounded by a large garden. My father’s mansion is fenced, yet with the celebration still underway, many visitors filled the house and the guest rooms overflowed with cousins and aunts.

I entered the living room. Agnes stepped forward again. “Your father wants you to meet him in his office.”

“All right,” I said, and walked to his home office. I suspected the matter was private so none of our relatives would overhear.

I reached the office door, knocked gently, and heard my father answer calmly, “Come in.”

I pushed the door open and entered the spacious room, which held two guest chairs and a set of four blue couches. My parents sat on one of the couches. My father smiled. “Come, Amara. Have a seat before the fireworks begin. Your mother and I have something important to tell you.”

“Okay, Dad.” I sat on the couch across from them. My mother wore a red nightdress; my father wore a white garment and black trousers, visible because he sat beside her.

My father smiled again. “Amara, the time has come for your mother and me to share an arrangement we have kept from you. I am sure you know my friend Mr. Joshua Briggs?”

“Yes, Dad. I know Mr. Briggs—the man who lives in the city and visits sometimes.”

“Good. You are married to his only son, Darlington Briggs, and you will leave for the city tomorrow to live with him.”

I gasped. “What? Dad, I don’t understand. How can I be married to your friend’s son? I don’t remember any wedding. Did I lose my memory?”

I stared at my parents in shock. How could I be married without knowing it or even wanting to settle down? My father sighed; my mother gave me a gentle look.

“It was an arrangement I made with Mr. Joshua Briggs long ago. You are not yet married to Darlington officially, but you will go to the city to live with him and see whether the two of you can build a life together.”

“Dad, I still don’t understand. Do you mean I am simply visiting, or am I already considered his wife?”

“Amara, as I said, you are now married to Darlington Briggs. Behave properly when you arrive. Darlington’s father has paid all the necessary bride-price, so you are his wife. The only difference is that he did not come here to claim you, and you did not walk down the aisle in a wedding dress. By our custom, you are officially Mrs. Amara Briggs, and Darlington is your husband.”

“What? Dad, I cannot marry a man I do not know. I will not move to the city. Mom?” I turned to my mother, hoping she would object.

She sighed. “Calm down, Amara. This is for your good.”

“How? I hate the noise and rush of city life. I want to stay here, where it is quiet.”

“I understand your concern, Amara, but I trust Mr. Joshua’s son to take care of you. You leave tomorrow,” my father said.