Dolly Mixtures Musebox

Evie doesn't think anything of it when she first sees the letter - Jacob is intrigued by the Frye crest on the envelope and begs her to open it, but she just assumes it's some family announcement, a wedding invitation or some such from an over-zealous aunt who's tracked down their somewhat estranged branch of the family tree out of a need for completeness. Jacob and Evie are aware they have relations beyond their father and uncle, but they're so rarely in touch with them they may as well not exist.

The letter is from an over-zealous aunt, her mother's sister, and it does concern a wedding, but it definitely wasn't what she expected. It addresses her as Evelyn, for a start, and nobody's called her that since... well, since the last time she was in aforementioned aunt's presence, and it draws her attention to certain arrangements made by her parents in her youth, a contract that she was being called upon to fulfill.

Jacob had mockingly hummed the wedding march for a week after it arrived, until they finally realised there wasn't any way of slipping out of this arrangement, that had sobered them both considerably. Before she had really registered what was happening, her aunt had arrived to tut over her entire wardrobe, whisk her away to the country house and start making preparations for her dress.

It was huge, and white, and the very latest style (which meant near-impossible to move in, corseted so tight she could barely breathe, and with a train that trailed pointlessly behind her tripping everybody up) and every single female relative, maid and friend of the family gasped and oohed and aahed over it until Evie was ready to scream. They all talked about how lucky she was, how handsome Mr Kent was, what a beautiful wife she'd make.
Evie had never wanted to stab a civilian harder in her life, but of course she couldn't, because Jacob had very wisely divested her of all her weapons - promising to take the very best care of them and return them to her as soon as the wedding was over, of course.

The ceremony was beautiful and overbearing, and while Evie was capable of agreeing that Mr Kent cut quite a dashing figure, it didn't in the slightest excuse him from being just another player in this whole charade and it certainly didn't prevent him from earning her ire, given that he was the embodiment of everything that was about to ruin all her carefully constructed plans for her life.
She plotted becoming a widow, and wondered if that would be frowned upon by the brotherhood.

Eventually all the frippery was done with, the toasts had been made, the meal served, the music played, the drink consumed (a lot), and the whirlwind of activity had passed, and now she was standing in an unfamiliar bedroom in an uncomfortable dress with a man she'd exchanged no words with that weren't vows.

And she had no idea what to do.