"For what is wedlock forced but a hell?"
February 19th
As the sun set on her eldest's birthday, Goneril had retreated into her study. Children's birthdays were even worse than her own for reminding her of her age. Miranda was twenty-two, which meant Goneril was forty-four. She would be married twenty-five years come May. Twenty-five years was more than half of her life; in turn, that meant she had spent more of her life married to Albany than not. For all of that, she hadn't even the consolation of a married heiress; Miranda was as stubborn and childish at twenty-two as she had been at sixteen.
That, unlike age, was something Goneril could change.
