A lesson in household management and future planning

Mr. Rogerson rolled out of bed, stood, and stretched. He turned to face Stephie, still lying back on the bed, nestled in the sheets.

“You’ve had a taste of the kind of instruction you’ll be getting over the next year.” Stephie shivered at that, a full year of this? “The other things you’ll be learning are largely in the arena of household management. You’ll need to be a good wife in every aspect.”

Stephie paused at this. A good wife? She hadn’t excelled in school per se, but her grades were fine. She had expected to go to college, enter the workforce. She realized Mr. Rogerson was still talking as she contemplated her fate.

“... have you got all that?”

“All.. all of what?” she asked softly. She knew that this kind of question would invite another punishment, but doing it (whatever it was) wrong was sure to be worse.

Mr. Rogerson frowned. “My instructions, Stephie. Were you not listening?”

“I… I was, but…”

“But what?”

“But what do you mean good wife? I assumed I was deferring college but–”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he looked pityingly at her, “college? Your parents already arranged for you to retract that acceptance. You have better, more appropriate things in your future.”

“But… but I liked studying.” Stephie was at a loss and the words just sort of tumbled out, “and how am I supposed to meet a husband if I don’t go to college?”

“Well,” Mr. Rogerson sat on the edge of the bed, “it’s good that you enjoyed your studies. You’ll be able to teach your children all the better for it. And as part of my work as your mentor I’ll be arranging your marriage by the end of the year. But I have to ensure–”

“Sorry, arranging??” Stephie interrupted in shock. The idea that she’d be homeschooling children, plural, slipped right past her.

“Don’t interrupt me, Stephie.” That coldness was back in his tone, “but yes. I will be arranging your marriage. Parents are too sentimental about their children, too rosy in their outlook. An outside perspective is better, clearer. I’ll be assessing your performance at home to match you appropriately.”

Stephie’s head was spinning. An arranged marriage… children… assessing her performance… She looked up, eyes wide at Mr. Rogerson. “Please I… I don’t understand.”

“That’s fine. You will in time. It’s just important that you obey. I have your best interests at heart. Now…”

Stephie concentrated this time, but her thoughts still spun. Mr. Rogerson outlined her household responsibilities: cleaning, cooking, and generally keeping up her appearance. He had a small home gym that she was expected to use daily to stay in shape while she took care of the household responsibilities. He left it to her to determine the priorities of her cleaning, a test she was sure, and he explained what kind of thing she could expect to find in the kitchen so she could plan his meals. She would eventually start organizing a grocery list, but he’d done the shopping for the next couple of days so she didn’t have to think too hard about it while she was getting settled. Clothing was a privilege she had yet to earn, it was explained, so she was to stay in the home and the curtains were to remain drawn. He would spend the day in his office and would ring for her if she was needed for anything. If she had free time, she was welcome to read, but her phone had been confiscated and she’d have no other access to electronics. She was totally isolated, but, as Mr. Rogerson helpfully pointed out, she would remain busy.

He dressed and made his way downstairs, leaving his ward alone in his bedroom. Stephie looked around at the messy room, feeling her solitude sink in. She flopped back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. What was she to do?