Love like Unpolished Gold.
Obsessive Rich Industrialist Husband x Lady Reader
Warnings: (none for this chapter) dub/con, slight abuse (verbal, victim blaming etc), gaslighting, past abuse from parent.
Summary: For Arthur Evans Green, entry into English high society demanded a key—and you were it. You were supposed to be a tool but things were changing, feelings blooming.
Note: Although the character isn’t a psycho yandere, HE Will BE OBSESSED. I am gonna make this man a jealous, yearning, angsty fool for Y/N. So give him a chance, even if you tend to only read strong yandere.
I also wanted to write a story where the obsession doesn’t start at first glance, but instead builds over time. (reader isn't an extra ordinary beauty in this one)
ch 2>
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Context for readers: The merchant class (self-made men) were business owners, trades, etc., and the gentlemen class (lords) in England looked down upon the merchant class. The ton (social circle) was mostly lords, ladies, and their families, and VERY RICH merchants.Earl and count are the same title; the reader’s title is Lady, as her brother’s future wife would be the countess. End of March to late July was the social season when they left their estate in the countryside and went to London to mingle. When there are small time jumps or pov switches, I use the smaller divider.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Chapter 1: A Lady befitting the Manor
How had things ended up this way? Face flushed with heat, your aloof husband's mouth feasting on your neck, his strong form holding you against his desk, a knee pressing deliciously between your legs. Breathy gasps and sounds of his wet kisses, all the while, a few doors down, some hundred guests mingled in your ballroom. Wondering where their hosts had disappeared to.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Eight months ago…
The late Victorian era was a prosperous time for the new-money men of England, the ones who proudly called themselves self-made. Gone were the days of old money. The Lords and their lands did them little good in the ever-evolving century. Consequently, the born gentlemen had become desperate to protect their status and estates. So they often barred self-made men from entering elite circles of society. Circles that promised capital investment deals over expensive scotch.
Arthur Evans Green was one such self-made man. Who, despite his genius and already substantial riches, found that his talents for accumulating wealth were being limited. He was born a common man, son to a preacher of a small parish. Even as a boy, he knew idolization of a modest life was a lie the rich told the poor, to keep them docile. He could still see the massive cross hanging around his father’s neck, like a dog on a leash. The old man would often say, “Arthur, all a man needs is a roof over his head and food in his belly; to want for more is a sin, my child”. Arthur would only nod, feigning understanding, while he dreamt of silk suits and townhouses.
At thirty-two, he had attained what few of his station ever dared to dream of. He owned several raw material processing factories, which had deals all across England. Now, he was looking to grow his business, exporting railway materials abroad. But to be the railway tycoon in England, one had to meet the right people at the right place. Places where his lack of a title blocked him from going. But all things could be remedied; he just had to think.
·𖥸·
A week later, fresh gossip spread through the ton. Whispers of a ruined earl, a daughter with inadequate dowry, a son to inherit an empty coffer. Arthur knew that if the gossip were true, the earl would be desperate. He set out to confirm the rumors, but the truth was far worse. There was no dowry, and the estate was in ruins. The earl was a notorious gambler and had accumulated debt beyond measure. Arthur couldn’t help the sick satisfaction he felt at a lord’s ruination. The man had met his fair share of the smug ‘noble’ bastards, and none of them wasted an opportunity to put him down. Effortlessly, schemes unfolded in his head; this would be easier than he thought.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
All it took for your Father to sell you was a promise of his debts being cleared and ten thousand pounds. Money that would be gone in no less than a year, considering his habits. All you had ever known your father to be was a drunken gambler. Not once in all his years had he said sweet words of love to you, like a father ought to. As a little girl, you had tried to earn his adoration, but all you received were strikes and malicious words. Words that remained imprinted in your mind even at twenty-six. Earl Newberry held a sickening disdain for both his children; neither you nor your brother knew the cause. Was there a reason good enough to hate one's own spawn?
Your season in London was spent surrounded by gossip and inquisitive stares. Few men had danced with you at balls, and even fewer Lords. So when a man by the name of Arthur Evans Green had approached your Father to ask for your hand in marriage, you had tried to convince yourself it was for the best. It was highly unlikely that you could entice another proposal without a dowry. Perhaps if you had possessed otherworldly beauty, a duke might have romanced you away, but that was not the world’s design. ‘The proposal was indeed a good thing,’ you assured yourself. No matter, you had never met this Mr. Green, no matter that you had dreamt of love. None of that mattered now. You readied yourself, for the wedding was to happen in mid-August, only a month away.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The Green and Newberry wedding was to be a grand affair. Arthur had spent a fortune to make sure the ton knew of the rich tycoon marrying the Lady Newberry. When he had asked to manage and pay for the wedding processions, your papa was elated. Naturally, the invites were also taken care of. The very pinnacle of society occupied the oak pews at the church—men with grand titles and even grander wallets. The whole thing was an exposition of his wealth for the Crème de la crème of the Lords. The ones that had made the right deals before and were looking to make them again.
In the days leading up to the wedding, you had seen Arthur only in passing. When he would visit your brother or father to take care of the finances of their agreement. It was quite abnormal that an engaged couple had never spoken before their wedding day. But Arthur had never attempted to speak to you, and your father had threatened severe repercussions if there was an attempt on your part to see Mr Green. ‘You’ll scare him away with that dull face of yours, and I’ll lose it all,’ he had yelled one drunken night when you had raised the matter. His warnings were never to be taken lightly; if enraged enough, even your brother couldn’t step in to save you.
‘Poor John, he’ll be left alone to bear Papa’s rage,’ you sulked.
·𖥸·
Dressed in a white gown of the latest fashion, you stood waiting to walk down the aisle. Like everything else, this gown was your fiancées choice. The whole affair was his; you were no foolish girl. It was clear Arthur wasn’t your knight in shining armor; he was a businessman making a deal for prestige. And you were making a deal for dear John. ‘I’ll be one less mouth to feed when he takes over the estate. ’
As you walked the length of the aisle, arms linked with your brother, you kept your eyes low. Anxiety growing in your belly like nausea. Thoughts crowded your mind, things you had tried not to think about. ‘
What if he is cruel like Papa? Would he take mistresses in public? I wouldn’t mind if the affair was private.’ Your sickening ideas ended abruptly when John planted a light kiss on your cheek. He admired you with his beautiful eyes, wishing you love and luck.
You couldn’t help but tear up at having to say goodbye to the only family you had. Turning away, your sights finally set on your man to be. And he was breathtaking. You had never stopped to admire him before. But now, as he stood before you, with the morning light spilling through the stained glass, crowning him in a halo, he looked like a vision touched by heaven. His dirty blond hair gleamed like unpolished gold. The navy suit fit him like a glove; he looked befitting of a noble title. However, something in his gaze sent a cold rush through you. His eyes were dark and detached. Your gaze strayed again, and you didn’t lock eyes with him for the rest of the ceremony.
·𖥸·
In the carriage ride back, the silence was deafening. You admired the gorgeous interior of the carriage to suppress the awkwardness. Unexpectedly, his throat cleared. “ You look radiant, madam.”
You wondered, ‘Was that supposed to be a compliment?’ It was said more like a sentence being served to a criminal.
“Thank you…, The ceremony was beautiful.”
“Yes, it was.”
Silence reigned again. Was this to be your marriage? Hollow exchanges, insincere words?
He spoke again, “Last year, I bought an off-season estate in Bedford. It's only six hours away from London, which is ideal since I spend most of my time there for work…”
You said nothing, listening dutifully, “ We’ll reside there, that is, of course, until the season in April. Since the place is still new, I have set aside some funds for you to furnish it as you see fit.”
Surprised was an understatement. To have a home to call your own and decorate as you please! To have any funds at all at your disposal was a dream after the dreadful bondage under your papa.
“Madam?” He asked.
“Ah! Yes, it sounds wonderful, …t-thank you.”’ You whispered the last part.
·𖥸·
‘How odd, ’ mused Arthur.
The girl barely spoke, keeping to herself like a cat curled out of reach. He watched her profile. She was handsome enough, with a good figure; the only extraordinary thing about her was her hair. He had admired its shine in the sunlight during their ceremony. An odd need to stroke it had overcome him then, to tell her cowering form, “‘it’ll be alright, darling”. But he had restrained himself.
Most of all, though, she hadn’t demanded any say when it came to the wedding or her dress. What game was the snobby Lady playing at? A woman of her standing would soon show her true colors: demanding, spending, betraying. Regardless, he had taken what he needed from her; the rest was inconsequential.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
7 Months later…
March brought with it colorful blooms and green pastures. The first 7 months of your marriage to Arthur Green had passed quietly. He was a man of few words, you had come to realize. Rare were the occasions when you saw him at Estelle Manor. He would pass through like a misplaced winter draft. Even though, technically, you had been neglected by your husband, you were happier than ever. For you didn’t see these months as lonely, but instead as a solace of your own making. While the cold rains had thundered outside, your soul had renewed. Being away from your cruel father had done much good, and everyone around had noticed too.
The maids noticed the peep in your step when you browsed the manor library and the cheer in your tone as you spoke of new adornments. The cooks saw the way you took more interest in the menu when the rare guest visited, and the parish priest noticed your frequent visits to Sunday services. You were unaware of the physical embodiment of your joy.
More than anyone, though, Arthur had noticed the shift in the mood at his manor. The place was brighter, the food more palatable, and there was an air of guileless ease. He also observed his wife’s newfound light. Unknowingly, he had started searching for a glance of you during his short stays away from London, restless without you in his vision. His feet would intuitively lead him to where you would be, in the library, the lounge, the gardens. And when you would scurry away before he could gather the courage to say a word of pleasantry, an inconspicuous irritation would mar his mood for the rest of the day. He tried to pretend he was indifferent to your presence, only for warmth to bloom within him when you stumbled into him.
He would casually ask his butler about you. What you did all day, if you had displayed disappointment about the manor or its runnings. And each time Mr. Moore had only sung praises of your kindness and grace.
“Lady Green has been the most generous, Sir! She has completely transformed the place.” He had said.
Simultaneously, disdain grew in him. You were everything he had wanted to be, born with noble blood in your veins. He abhorred the fact that you had been better received by his staff than he. The way his staff attend their mistress enthusiastically, seemingly proud to serve her. The sight struck at his ego. ‘Naturally, they must have despised serving a nobody before I married the daughter of an Earl,’ he thought. ‘Curse her!’
Of course, his assessment was far from the truth; the staff were simply glad to have a mistress who took an interest in the running of the household. You had given them purpose and passion. A thing they had lacked the year before, when they only had a master.
·𖥸·
One March afternoon, your husband joined you for tea in the gardens. His sudden attention was unnerving, and you found yourself a fluttering fool.
You attempted to speak of the weather, the manor, even the parish, but his replies had been short and snippy. He seemed irritated, so you decided it was best to let the time pass in silence.
He, however, started speaking just as you had resolved to keep silent.
“The season will start soon, and we’ll leave for my townhouse in a fortnight. It’s our first season as newlyweds, so I expect you to act the part of a doting wife when in public.”
‘His townhouse,’ you couldn’t help but note the implications of his words.
“Most of all, I plan on throwing several gatherings, a few Galas, and many more intimate dinners for the more influential folk. Accordingly, you’ll have to entertain their wives and daughters. I will need you to be a great hostess, meet the ladies for tea, and most importantly, be agreeable at all times.”
You tried to agree, but he continued, his tone harsher.
“Y/n, you are now married to.. what I believe your circle refers to as a trade man,” you knew it to be an insult. “As a result, money doesn’t just flow into my pockets; I have to work for it, charm for it, and I need you to play your role. I won’t ask more of you in this marriage.”
You were stunned, automatically you spoke, “I understand, husband.”
His heart skipped when you referred to him as a wife should. “Forgive me, but I must go now.”
He walked away after his declaration, the tea you had poured him left untouched.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
This story is about to have the craziest angst. *cackles villainously *, About to make this bitch boy yearn so bad.
It’s taking me a while to get a hang of the Victorian speaking style. Proper and all, but I’ll improve as we go.
Also, cotton candy fields will be updated next cause I keep seeing notifications of ppl binge-reading the chapters, and I feel bad when I realize they are left waiting T–T,
I have been there before, gang, hate the wait. But life is fucking me in the ass rn and it is taking a while.
Master Naughtylist: @hopingtocleaemedschool, @aenishas (girl I forgot to tag you last night, I got you tho) 💕
Let me know if you want to be on the master taglist or the series taglist.
