Flowers for Sarah, Fruit for
Kathleen
“Where do you
want me to put these?” Sarah took the bunch of roses the butler
had brought in and held them so that the petals brushed her cheek
and the scent filled her lungs.
Kathleen
looked up from her stitchery, apparently annoyed at the
interruption.
“Another
bunch?” She asked listlessly and rose with the languid grace of a
lady well courted and loved by too many beaus. Kathleen took the
card, but didn’t bother to reach for the roses. With a sigh she
tossed the pretty sentiments in some luckless gentleman’s
handwriting to the grate, feeding the fire that warmed the room.
It wasn’t
clear whose gifts would please her for Kathleen was restless and
seemed to be looking for something, someone else’s tribute to her
beauty. Sarah felt no lasting envy of her sister’s good fortune,
only a faint wish that someday the flowers would be for her.
Kathleen had achieved every conquest of interesting men, but Sarah
couldn’t fault her when her own shyness held her back.
The London
season had been busy. Their parents had presented them at court
and then whisked their twin girls on a marathon of dances, balls,
concerts and luncheons until Sarah felt sure that the celebrations
would be the end of her. She and Kathleen were both blond, both
blue eyed and almost identical in beauty but Sarah had to admit
her sister had that certain something that drew the men to her
side. There was a confidence and sparkle that guaranteed her
dance card would be filled even at Almack’s.
Sarah set the
flowers on the side table and went back to her poetry. She could
find joy in words that all the parties didn’t bring. She felt
that she spoke well enough and had several gentlemen count her as
friend, yet they inevitably flocked to her sister. Why would
anyone sit by a flickering candle when they could gaze into a
wondrous fire?
“I shall wear
white tonight,” Kathleen announced. She was in her own way making
sure that Sarah would dress to be her foil. Sarah knew that her
sister would expect her to don the darker colors. As twins they
tried not to dress alike, but by wearing the darker colors it
would make Sarah appear on the shelf instead of in the midst of
her first season. She was somewhat sad that she wouldn’t get to
wear her new pink gown for she knew it became her well. Perhaps,
she thought, but resolutely dismissed, her sister knew this too.
“I shall wear
blue,” Sarah said finally in acquiescence. It was more important
to get her sister matched to some eligible gentleman than worry
about her turn. It was Sarah’s way.
The ball was
just starting as they arrived. Sarah and Kathleen joined their
parents parading along the wall, everyone waiting for the more
fashionable to arrive. It was amusing to circle the room while
others, pretending not to look, did the same in the opposite
direction.
Sarah
couldn’t keep it up. She detached herself from her family as soon
as she was able, tired of fishing, tired of trying to catch a
man. She wrinkled her nose at the crowd and let out an unladylike
but quite satisfying snort.
“It
does seem ridiculous, doesn’t it?” The voice at her shoulder made
her jump.
She
turned to look at the tall gentleman. Lord Wetherly, a guest that
she had met earlier, greeted her. Sarah had been impressed by his
manners and impeccable dress though she now noticed his strong
features. He had brown hair, but it was his green eyes held her
attention. They had the tiniest laugh lines crinkling at their
corners while his full mouth appeared somber and serious.
Sarah debated about whether she should deny his statement or
pretend not to understand, but those eyes were looking straight
into hers and she could only agree. She hoped that no one else
could read her thoughts as well as he had.
“Why
do we do this?” She asked with a laugh.
He
regarded her curiously, as if surprised that she dared be candid.
She knew he wouldn’t stay long after he caught sight of her fiery
sister. This made it so much easier to talk without worrying
about what impression she left on him. He would not look again at
her once under Kathleen’s spell.
“Why
do we do this?” He repeated and considered for a moment. “I
think we haven’t figured out anything better,” he replied, walking
beside her so she couldn’t escape. “We are merely part of the
performance.” He held out his hand and she took it as they
crossed to the dance area. He even danced well and he smiled
reassuringly when she missed a step as the set started.
“At
least we get to dance,” she told him, minding her steps more
closely as she saw her parents frowning at her. Sarah enjoyed
herself, hardly realizing that her open smile and cheerful
humility was in marked contrast to the other girls. Lord Wetherly
had talked to her and made her feel special for a few wonderful,
exuberant moments of her life.
“I
don’t think a dance has ever given me more pleasure,” he said as
the dance ended. His compliment sounded sincere even if the words
were too fulsome. He couldn’t possibly have enjoyed the dance as
much as she, could he?
Sarah giggled, unwilling to take his words seriously. “You
haven’t danced with my sister yet,”
“What an odd creature you are,” he said, tucking her arm into
his. “I was paying you a compliment.”
“I
don’t need them,” she replied lightly, forgetting to be tactful.
“I would rather hear the truth than listen to polite words.” She
made the mistake of treating him like a friend before they even
knew each other.
His
eyes held a distinctly angry sparkle and caused her to swallow
nervously. “Did you think I was lying to you?” He asked with a
low voice. It seemed he might have a temper too.
Sarah lost her smile and remembered that she was supposed to act
like a lady, never contradicting a gentleman, never speaking her
mind. “I apologize, my Lord. Of course not, my Lord.”
He
stopped and faced her. His expression was reserved and he seemed
struck by her sudden withdrawal into silence. It was his turn to
apologize. “I am sorry. No need for you to apologize. I did not
mean to cause you discomfort. How could you know how to take my
words when you do not know me? Allow me the honor of escorting
you back to your parents to further our acquaintance,” he said in
a normal tone.
She
accepted his graceful explanation halfheartedly. Of course as a
true gentleman he would take the blame for her impulsive
outburst. Inside she hid a sigh and a shrug, knowing that even
these few words and moments spent together would give her many
hours of daydreams and regrets. She would come up with so many
other better things to say-- witty, brilliant things that he would
never hear but that she could pretend he took delight in—if only
in her dreams..
“Mr.
and Mrs. Darlington, may I compliment you on your daughter?”
Sarah couldn’t help being a little pleased with the surprised, but
happy faces of her parents. Her mother waved her fan as she
simpered and her father bowed lower than was necessary. She
wondered if this bored Lord Wetherly for he certainly didn’t look
impressed by their condescension.
“Dearest sister, you have stolen a march on me.” Kathleen joined
them and gave her curtsy to the gentleman.
Sarah winced at her twin’s use of slang. First she had insulted
him, her parents’ had acted like toadeaters and repulsed him and
now Kathleen openly flirted with him.
He
instead looked amused. “Do you enjoy these balls?”
Sarah’s sister answered much as a hopeful lady wishing to attract
a gentleman should. “Why would anyone not like them?” She
answered in mock horror. “Of course I do,“ she told him
emphatically.
Lord
Wetherly smiled and nodded. He met Sarah’s eyes and raised an
eyebrow and Sarah couldn’t help liking him even more then. They
actually seemed to share the same sense of humor. She couldn’t
believe her luck when he stayed to talk, even if it was likely
that he did so because he was entranced by her twin.
Kathleen was suddenly diverted by the arrival of a rival for her
attention. Gilly Farnsworth, a young man with a known
predilection for blondes, stood by her side with a sadly wilted
bunch of flowers. Either he had picked them too early in the day
or hadn’t given them any water as he searched for his quarry. The
crush of people and the lack of fresh air in the room had caused
the room to be too warm for fresh flowers anyway.
“These are for you,” Gilly announced solemnly, elbowing his way
past the bemused Lord Wetherly. Both of the Darlington parents
exclaimed appropriately yet Kathleen had lost her usual tact.
Sarah instantly recognized that her sister’s preoccupation with
Lord Wetherly had caused this breach in etiquette.
“Oh
Gilly,” Kathleen trilled. “You really shouldn’t have. “
Her expression of disdain was as revealing as Sarah’s had been
earlier. Sarah tried to hide a brief flash of dismay and jealousy
for her sister’s never ending good fortune. She quickly averted
her head when she saw that Lord Wetherly had been watching her
instead of her sibling.
Gilly flushed bright red and then glared at Lord Wetherly
belligerently. He turned back to Kathleen. “I thought you could
carry my flowers tonight. If you want to,” he stuttered.
Sarah tried to help placate her sister’s beau and remind Kathleen
of her manners since their parents had left them with the two
gentlemen in an embarrassingly obvious matchmaking ploy.
“Flowers are very thoughtful,” she said. Gillly spared her a
glance though he didn’t appear to appreciate her kindness or
sympathy.
Lord
Wetherly, still standing with them for reasons only known to
himself, responded. “You like flowers?” He asked Sarah wryly,
even if he had already seen the answer.
Kathleen answered instead. “Flowers are nice,” she said,
acknowledging Gilly with a glance. “But I like other
things too. Poetry, fruit, confections, something unique that is
just for me.” Her blue eyes blinked, flirting with the tall
gentleman while hinting at her preference.
Gilly bowed as if she had been speaking to him. “Your wish shall
be fulfilled,” he promised, leaving the girls as abruptly as he
had come.
The
remaining gentleman bowed before the girls. “I must take my leave
as well. It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“May
we hope to see you again?” Kathleen asked.
His
teeth flashed as he grinned widely at them both. “You may count
on it,” he told the bolder twin.
It
seemed he was intent on honoring that promise. The very next
morning a large bunch of wildflowers was delivered to the house.
Kathleen had been inundated all day with sonnets, pastries and
baskets of fruit as word spread among her swains about the
beauty’s newest desire for gifts.
The
butler brought the flowers in and she brightened as he announced
that they had been delivered by Lord Wetherly himself.
Sarah watched sadly as her sister hugged the flowers to her chest
and laughed in exhilaration. The card floated forgotten to the
ground as Kathleen danced about the room. She had another new
conquest and could not be happier.
The
butler left as another knock came to their front door.
“Congratulations,” Sarah offered to her twin, bending to pick up
the card for her.
Even
as she reached to hand the card to Kathleen, her hand stopped and
drew it back from her expectant sister’s extended palm.
“It’s addressed to me,” Sarah said with awe.
Kathleen grabbed the card, her face instantly transformed into
confusion and rage. After a long moment of staring at the
unmistakable words, she thrust both the flowers and card back at
her sibling. She pouted until the butler returned with a basket
of fruit in hand.
Sarah could see the hope rise in her twin for Lord Wetherly had
heard her declaration of wishing for anything but flowers. Sarah
clutched her flowers carefully to her and waited to see what the
card for her sister said.
She
saw Kathleen eagerly read the other card, but she decided she
didn’t care if Lord Wetherly had been so nice to remember them
both. She thought these flowers smelled better than any roses.
Sarah finally had her flowers and was grateful for their beauty.
She felt her heart soar and fought a sudden impulse to cry.
Suddenly Kathleen flung the card aside and stormed out of the
room, leaving Sarah to read the note and uncover the basket.
Gilly Farnsworth had given her sister exactly what she wanted,
Sarah thought as she looked into the basket. Though from her
sister’s expression as she left, Sarah knew she had already tasted
the green grapes inside.
