Joey Anne Pangilinan
LACC Fall 2009
English 101
False Pretenses: A Narrative of Deceit for Personal Gain
Mama has always said that she has been tremendously blessed with the
beauty that mirrors the Gods. With silky blond hair, curvaceous lips,
eyes like the color of the ocean, and a well-endowed bosom, Bridget
Norrington is used to being flattered. Flattery is most common amongst
her family of three beautiful women, and they have been trained from
birth to beguile and flirt and please, with only one all but handsome
brother. Her mother’s sister, Margaret, was an Honourable, lucky
enough to have married an earl. They’ve taken pride in their relation
to her, but the time is ripe for her sisters and her to be courted by
the best of the best of bachelors to finally make a name for their
family so that they may finally take, what they thought was, their
rightful place in 1920’s England.
“The Gods have not forgotten us,” Mama has always said. “We will be
amongst the wealthy and dine in luxury when just one of my daughters
catches the right eye and seals the bond in holy matrimony.”
So here she was now, in Vienna watching the most boring of all operas
her mother forced her into watching, convinced Bridget’s slashed
sapphire velvet sleeves will catch the eye of a suitable bachelor. And
sure enough, just outside of her family box was a stag dressed
impressively in his finest, waiting for her to draw the curtains.
“Enchanted,” he said bowing down. She took the time to study him, and
from the rich way his golden blond hair slicked back and his matching
moustache curled at its’ end, she knew this was the one. Not bad
looking either, she thought.
“The pleasure is mine,” she said offering her hand.
He smiled as he took it. “I should like to know your name.”
“Bridget Norrington, kind sir. And your name, may I inquire?”
He smiled smugly. “Lord. That would be Lord Gregory Tremayne.”
Oh a Lord! Mama would be so proud, Bridget thought.
“And may I interest you to dine with me this evening, my dear?” he
said. She smiled in answer and took hold of the crook of his arm.
On the drive to the restaurant, Lord Gregory Tremayne, she would
never be able to get used to saying his name, kept vague to enlighten
her of his lineage. She must love me for me and not of my title,
Gregory thought. Little did he know, Bridget Norrington was raised
selfish to believe there was no such thing as love for one another,
but love for luxury and wealth. Of course it wouldn’t matter to Mama
if he were tolerable or not, but rather the title and money bound to
his name. She thought to herself she would first see to it if this man
were tolerable enough, despite my mother’s wishes, if she were to
convince him to marry her. After all, it is one’s duty to feed our
souls with our natural passions, for the aim in life is self-
development, she thought.
The dinner was fairly tolerable; he spoke mostly of his likes and
dislikes, and occasionally asked her of her own likes and dislikes.
She smiled at him flirtatiously, and laughed at his dim-witted jokes,
and was sure to keep him interested until the end of the night when he
directed his driver to take her to her family’s vacationing home in
Vienna. Departing with a single kiss on the cheek, she left him at the
front door. She will be the death of me, thought Gregory, as he walked
back to his waiting car. Once inside, Bridget shared all the events of
her day with her mother. They squealed with joy and laughter, and
ordered Adam, her repulsive older brother, to look into the name of
the man she dined with that evening. The next morning, as efficient as
he is, Adam came wide eyed with The Heyfold Herald in one hand to
report that Lord Gregory Tremayne, an only child, is the heir to his
recently deceased father’s, Duke of Heyfold, many estates. Lord
Gregory Tremayne was promised £300 million if he married within the
year.
For the next month, she has been secretly impatient waiting for a
marriage proposal while Lord Gregory Tremayne sought first to court
her into taking a liking to him, when she surely was already in love,
or rather with his money and her future title. I believe it in the way
that she says my name, the way her eyes glitter, that she loves me,
Gregory thought. And on the second week of the second month of their
courting, the Norrington’s prayers were answered when Gregory slipped
an engagement ring the size of her fist on her slim finger and
promised her a life even Aunt Margaret an Honourable would appear
diminutive. She accepted gracefully, quick to prepare for her wedding,
to take place within the week, to her future title.
On the day of their marriage, she played the role of an immaculate
bride and devoted wife until their bond was sealed with a gentle, yet
promising, kiss, which pronounced her Duchess. And on the night of the
wedding, where she promised to honor her vows and promised her body,
they made love. Throughout the night, and when they made love, Gregory
thought to tell her of his father’s many debts and that would
inevitably fall them into bankruptcy, but he so steadily believed in
the love in her eyes that she will stand by him even at their darkest
of hours. He felt it unnecessary to mention the massive overdue debts
and payments his father has left unfinished, borrowing from other
noblemen to keep from being ruined.
It was only the next morning, where she decided to take her place in
a first-class train cart trip to Paris, France to splurge on a
shopping spree. Pinpointing her new husband in his study piled under
stacks of official papers, that she request him to open accounts at
the finest of stores. Though he smiled, she knew he was troubled, and
as his smile failed to reach his eyes, there was nothing she cared
more about than to face luxury head on in Paris, France. While she was
already imagining the first-class trip and the joy of purchasing
without a care of costs, that he told her. She slumped into the
closest chair, feeling cheated and betrayed by her so-called beloved.
Duke Gregory Tremayne, who swore his love for her, felt it unnecessary
to mention his father’s debts because they were his responsibility and
not his wife’s. Bridget then learned that the promised £300 million at
the first signature of marriage was largely decreased to a mere £37
thousand. Hardly enough to secure a promising future, she thought.
Now six months into the marriage now, and she has not faced the
luxury of wealth, but the diminishing of it. Though her shared title
with her deceiving husband, to anyone’s ear, is still quite
impressive, their bank accounts were not. She has yet to tell her
mother that there is no money, and there will be no grand balls, or
dining with noblemen. She felt she has been tricked into a marriage
only to come out with nothing to show for it. A waste of my beauty my
mother would think, she thought.
“But it is our initial love for each other that will prevail above all
things for what we created together,” Gregory would repeat with
earnest eyes as his hand reached out to her swelling belly. But I do
not love you, she would counter in her thoughts, I never did, there is
no such thing as love.
It didn’t take long before The Heyfold Herald was hinting headlining
titles such as “Is Duke of Heyfold Nearly Ruined?” or “Duchess Finds
Herself Bearing and Bankrupt” that she began feeling sorry for herself
and her declining reputation, that she sought comfort elsewhere. And
after the birth of their twin son and daughter, that Duke Gregory
Tremayne had learned of her many affairs with the men of the staff
household that he finally realized she did not love him but for the
money and reputation of him that she learned from the Heyfold Herald
the night he sought to court her that she expected—nay, knew the
wealth would be shared with her. And in turn, Duke Gregory Tremayne,
like his selfishly cynic wife, felt cheated into a marriage on false
pretenses. He cursed himself into believing there was such thing as
love with a beautiful woman, like Bridget Norrington, and swore to
raise his son and daughter without the influence of greed and
selfishness, and without a care for the reputation produced by the
media, that so clearly was embedded into their young mother.
In the final years of their life and marriage, he was able to make
profit off of some of his father’s estates and gain back his wealth
through careful decisions. And when his selfish wife came crawling
back to him, promising devotion and love, he allowed her the shopping
spree she so desperately wanted and fed her all the money she could
have ever wanted so long as she play no part in raising their
children. Objecting at first as she is their mother, Bridget gave in
at the first offer of a bottomless account under her own name. Since
then Duke Gregory Tremayne and his wife, Bridget Norrington, slept in
separate quarters.