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Dinner that evening was a festive affair. Father was alight with happiness at the return of his only son, both constantly in discussion with one another. Mother watched them fondly, her eyes dewing with pride at her eighteen-year-old’s transformation from boy to manhood.
I noticed it as well.
Andrew had aged more than I had realized before. He talked of politics instead of his adventures with his lads. He discussed philosophy instead of his charades with the local ladies. His dark brown eyes held secrets, as well as years of experience from school. The very air around him vibrated with unseen knowledge just waiting to be revealed. I was anxious for dinner to be over so I could sneak off to Andrew’s room and hear all his tales before bed. Arabella was as relaxed as ever, eating her fried asparagus like a good girl. I pushed it around my plate, anticipating the moment the clock would strike nine and the house would retire for the night.
But when that moment did arrive, it didn’t play out at all like I had planned. Father stood as the clock echoed from across the way. He was as tall as Andrew with the same ebony locks, though his was threaded with silvery hairs. His eyes were dark and his chin was shadowed from the neglect to shave before dinner. “Andrew, my boy, why don’t we head down to the lounge and share a cigar, eh?” Father announced, clapping Andrew on the back as if he was one of Father’s business associates. Mother nodded her approval while Arabella barely lifted her head, her eyelids drooping with fatigue.
I myself was jolted back by the request. Andrew, smoking? It seemed too surreal. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that he was a man now. My Andrew, my brother, was a man.
So, that night, instead of being entertained by Andrew’s harebrained tales, I was sent to bed with a cold cup of hot cocoa and the promise of a kiss from Mother. I was still being treated as a child, and this infuriated me. I was fourteen, now a lady of society. I would be having my coming-out on Saturday, and yet Andrew was the only one being treated differently.
But I wouldn’t dare show it. Drifting to bed like a proper daughter, I kissed Mother and drank my cocoa as though it was still hot. After Betsy had left, the fire crackling in the grate, I sat up fighting to see against the darkness that engulfed the room. Letting my legs fall over the edge of the mattress, I left my bed and sashayed across the room to my study. With a quick look behind me, I shut the door, leaving me in peace.
By light of a wilted candle, I read about Hamlet and Ophelia’s forbidden love and Hortario’s loyal deeds to Hamlet. With each turn of a page, my eyesight blurred as my lids closed repeatedly over my eyes until my head finally fell against the tabletop, my cheek resting against the glassy surface of the wood. The book slipped from my fingers and tumbled to the floor with a soft thump.
And that’s all I recall before sleep invaded my thoughts.
= = =
I was awoken to the soft harmony of the birds outside, singing to the rising sun. I peeked through the slits in my eyes and watched as the sun ascended into the rust-colored sky. Warm air leaked through the open window, and engulfed my face in a toasty hug. Breathing deeply, I inhaled the scents of mellifluous nectar from the flowers blooming below my windowpane, and the crisp, recently cut grass. My nightgown fitted to my spin like a second skin as the temperature rose with the sun. Moving my head away from the wooden desk, I stretched my arms above my head and yawned with pleasure.
I had surprisingly slept quite soundlessly, and my body felt revived, my muscles coiled ready for the day ahead. Looking to my left, I squeaked in fright at the figure leaning carelessly against the bookcase, reading one of the many novels lining the walls. “You’re awake, finally,” Andrew garbled, dog-earing the page and placing it back on the bookcase.
“Andrew, dear lord, you gave me fright!” I exclaimed, clutching at my chest as my heart slowly returned to its normal rhythm.
“I apologize, sister, but I thought it odd when I came to arouse you for breakfast that you couldn’t be found in your bed.” He cocked an eyebrow, a smile forming across his lips.
I glanced away, up to the ceiling. “Sleep eluded me the previous night so I sought the sanctuary of my books.”
“So I see.” He was grinning more wildly now. “From my last visit, I assumed mother had banned these sacred books from you.” He ran a finger insolently along the spines of the books.
“Mother isn’t known of everything,” I snapped, hurt by his accusations.
Andrew held up his hands in surrender. “Only voicing a simple statement, dear Christine. Now would you please dress and join me for breakfast.”
I nodded instantly, forgetting the hurt I had previously felt. “Of course.”
Down in the dinning area, Arabella was just finishing up her plate of deviled eggs and fresh grapefruit when I entered, Andrew at my side. “Ah, Christine, up at last,” Mother said with an inquisitive glance my way. Father barely noticed, smiling broadly at Andrew’s arrival. Andrew took a seat beside Father and I opposite him. The cook placed some eggs and fruit before me, and I could barely hide my intense hunger as I picked up my fork and knife.
The eggs were prepared just the way I liked them, finely showered in pepper. The grapefruit was sprinkled in sugar, and the milk was finely cultivated to our taste. Arabella finished up her milk just as Miss Yallimire entered, curtsying at the sight of my mother and father seated there. “Miss Arabella, time for your lessons.” My sister stood promptly, dabbed her cheeks with her napkin, and pecked both Father and Mother on the cheek. I watched her leave the room, suddenly having the strongest urge to return to her age where all I had to worry about was flute lessons and making sure I didn’t get my petticoat too dirty.
“Christine, darling, I have gotten the most wonderful news,” Mother exclaimed after a maid presented her with a letter. I acknowledged my mother only with a slight nod of my head as I continued to eat. I saw Father frown at my disrespect, but he didn’t reprimand me, as he should. He remained mute returning to his freshly brewed tea. Andrew couldn’t hide the smirk covering his lips as he coughed softly into his sleeve. I felt my stomach churn inside of me, knowing I had been offensive to only nod my head.
“Lady Miller has invited us to her gathering today for tea. How lovely is that, dear?”
“Just grand, Mother,” I enthused, for Father’s sake, who nodded with approval. Mother beamed.
“I’ll have Betsy pour out your bath water for you,” Mother stated as she stood. “I must ready myself.” She glided out of the room as if propelled by an invisible wind, and I wondered if I would ever possess as much grace and poise as my mother did.
“Andrew, since it seems all our ladies will be preoccupied today, what with tea parties and lessons, the gentlemen at the Men’s Club have talked of nothing else but your return back to society. It would be proper to go and greet them today,” Father remarked, poising his sentence as a question.
Andrew instantly perked up at this prospect. “That sounds quite delightful, Father.”
Father stood, Andrew with him. “Come then. Good day, Christine.” Father inclined his head to me, and departed. Andrew paused, winked at me with an affectionate smile, and then followed suit. I shook my head at his manner, and finished my meal in silence.
After breakfast, I slipped upstairs and into my bedroom. There, waiting dutifully, was Betsy. She was clothed in the average maid attire, white bonnet fixed around her head. She was a small girl, one with a petite frame and large brown eyes. Her nose was pointed, along with her chin. In the cruel society that I lived in, she would be deemed an unworthy prize for men.
“M’lady, I have your bath water prepared for you.” She curtsied and stepped back to let me through.
In the powder room, a basin filled with steaming water was placed in the center of the floor. I tested the water with my fingertips, and sighed at the warmth that enfolded them. “Thank you, Betsy,” I called over my shoulder, releasing her until I was finished. I heard the door shut in the neighboring room and only then did I remove my garments.
The water rose at my entry into the pool, and I eased by spine against the basin’s side, allowing my eyes to close. The steam swirled around in the room and filled it with its heady scent of honeysuckle and rose. They appealed to my senses, and I caught my mind wandering until it rested upon the tea gathering at the Miller residence.
No doubt Olivia would be there, Lady Miller’s sixteen-year-old daughter who I knew fancied Andrew. I shivered to think of her getting her dexterous hands on him. She was like her mother – shrewd and tremendously voracious. I was thankful that Andrew would be away at the Men’s Club and out of Oliva’s sight.
Betsy’s calm voice filtered through the crack in the door, and I sat up to better hear her. “M’lady, time to get dressed!”
Not wanting to leave the water just yet, I took my time scrubbing my body and hair before leaving for the humid outside air. Wrapping myself in a fleece towel, I exited the powder room. Betsy then handed me a bundle of undergarments to change into – a camisole attached at the knee, drawers, corset, bustle, and petticoat. Betsy helped me with the corset, a lower-cutting one with a tightness at the top that nearly flattened my ribs but made my bust extend farther out than I wished. “Ah, Betsy, could you bare me a breath and loosen the strings?” I panted, clutching at her wrists.
“Don’t you want to be fashionable, m’lady?”
“Yes, but not so that I can’t take a breath or bend over,” I practically growled. Betsy withdrew from me, and I smiled in apology. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little overwhelmed with Saturday and all.”
“Oh, I can understand that, m’lady. But you mustn’t worry. Lady Rickmond has it all taken care of.”
“So I hear,” I sighed as Betsy, with one final tug, tied me into the corset. Throwing over my head a gown of sapphire-blue, she did my hair in a loose bun at the nape of my neck, curling tendrils framing my face. I curled one of the tendrils around my finger, looking critically at myself in the mirror.
My hair, a dark ruby in color, highlighted my cream-colored complexion and olive eyes. The dress complimented my tall stature, and made my hair shimmer in the lame light.
However, soon, my eyes started to see the flaws until I no longer noticed the good. My hips, as Madame Louche remarked before, were nearly indistinguishable, and I appeared almost boyish if it wasn’t for my tight corset, which forced my body into a submissive state to create nonexistent curves. My eyes were dull, nothing like the lively blue-green that my sister possessed. My hair was an ugly red, not the beautiful blonde my sister had or the ebony curls my brother carried.
Not able to look anymore, I spun and forced a smile when Betsy glanced at me. “Ready, m’lady?”
“Yes, Betsy, we shall depart now.”
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