CHAPTER 1 PART 1
A secret touch of pink on my cheeks, a rosy hue my father adored, was the only inheritance i valued.
The wind was a conspirator carrying mother's soft voices and teasing her red dress completely unaware of the dandelions father hid for her hair. From afar I admired my mother, a vision of ethereal beauty beyond words.
I quietly followed behind my father clutching my own hidden roses. He knelt just close enough for her to feel his presence (a silent invitation )as she turned. As she sighted the flowers, her laughter spread along the field like a gentle much needed breeze .
Then, as she accepted my modest bouquet, she confidently claimed she loved my flowers better as she made a playful declaration to my Father of a major rival.
My face beamed with pride certain I had won my mother's heart and secured her presence at the impending dance. My Father pretending to be heartbroken swept my mother into his arms, her dress a swirl of fabric, as he spun her around. When I tried to escape the playful moment, father held me and spun me too.
I laughed so hard genuine deep I could feel myself silently wishing to marry a man with my father's grace and affection .
My own prince charming.
Someone who would perceive my beauty not just overtly but in the most intricate detail, just the way father observed the tiniest freckles on mother's skin, naming every single one of them, telling me how freckles were the very spots the stars left their celestial kisses.
YEARS LATER
Oh my goodness, isn't she gorgeous! What's her name ?
"It's him, milady, and he is Whiskey."
Whiskey Anne chuckled
"Whiskey, like the drink?" she made a hand gesture, with her thumb and her remaining 4 fingers balled in a fist as she extended to her lips, to mimic drinking.
The attendant explained the origin of the name: "Milady, he was caught by his Previous owner laying beside hay soaked whiskey. No one knows how it got there, only that whiskey was beside it .He was disoriented, excessively sleepy ,hypersalivation and other symptoms of alcohol poisoning.
The owner thought it was a fitting name. Plus, he is also a spirited one, which is a bonus, and we can agree the name is quite catchy."
Placing a dramatic hand on her chest, she sighed, "well isn't that charming? She continued, "I definitely need to have him now; it seems I have fallen in love with him. I most definitely need to ask as to the price at which they would be willing to part with him".
The attendant an elderly woman with kind eyes like melting butter, smiled warmly at Anne's declaration.
The attendant led me to a quiet corner, pulling out a clipboard with various papers. "Well there is a standard adoption fee, of course, which covers his initial vaccination fees, initial farrier care.We also need to make sure you are a good fit for him, which just involves a quick application.
Anne was delighted, her eyes sparkled with determination. "A quick application?" I inquired.
"That sounds absolutely delightful! Where do I sign?" I asked as I already stretched my hand over the counter, reaching for the clipboard. "I want to get started right away". "I am quite in a hurry to plan my first date with whiskey", I said, smiling brightly.
The attendant chuckled softly, handing her a pen. "Just a few questions about your experiences with horses, dear".
Anne started filling the forms out with a speed that suggested her mind was darn set on having Whiskey.
Anne completed the application with a final, elegant stroke of her pen then passed it to the attendant.
Okay, darling, "she beamed. "The manager is scheduled to review this around next week, so expect a reply by the end of next week at the very latest."
"Gracias", Anne replied, the sole Spanish word that ever seemed to stay in her memory.
"Oh shit", I said silently, as the sudden thought made me adjust my hat as i remembered my mother's words firmly instructing me to call Lillian and request a fitting for the upcoming thé dansat, a traditional British tea party.
"Your father would be expecting your presence, young lady; so get that smug thought away from your mind, "her mother had instructed while adjusting the fit of her bodice.
I had always loved to dress, especially loved the elaborate hats especially since I mostly beautify them with flowers, feathers , ribbon, artificial fruits and even small decorative reptiles.
I had once boldly declared that my manner of dress was not merely fashion, but a lifestyle.
Deep down, I understood my father's true motive he wanted me to meet a suitable, young, handsome man that could provide for my wants and needs. she silently mimicked her father's words as their last fight replayed in her head.
The true yearning was for a connection forged not in the glided halls of a ballroom, nor the ephemeral beauty of the "thé dansat".
A gentleman whose affection was measured not by land, deeds or noble title, but by the depth of his character and kindness of his heart.
The aim was to find a man content with but one queen, certainly not one who bores resemblance to Henry VIII, who famously had six wives in his endless pursuit of power and progeny. A man undesirably and toxicinly exonerating I sought.
The ultimate desire was a love that was undeniably potent, a connection so profound it was nigh overwhelming _ a beautifully flawed, exonerating bond that justified all the waiting.
Weeks later the final fitting was underway the air hung thick with the sharp scent of starched lining and the soft fragrance of dried lavender, a comforting mix settled over Lillian's small shop.
"Oh my, Anne don't you just look magnificent? like a wild rose in full bloom", Mrs. Lillian gushed, her eyes sparkled with approval.
You've always been a beauty, but now... I am truly out of words.
You ought to marry one of my sons"!
"Oh, Mrs. Lillian, " I stammered, a light blush spreading across my cheeks as I laughed softly."B-but you have no sons".
"Oh, silly me, Mrs. Lillian smirked, expertly snipping a loose thread from the hem. Two young girls, Lillian's daughters, watched wide -eyed from a corner, captivated by the transformation.
Lilia, the eldest, looked up at anne in awe "You certainly are beautiful, miss Anne."
" I certainly would love to draw you", added Lulu, the second daughter,clutching a piece of stick.
Mrs Lillian shooed her children away with a laugh. "Get off, you two ! will you help your father out in the field?"
Anne, who had been shy and worried about the upcoming ball because of how simple she chose her dress to be, was instantly filled with warmth by the children's sincere statements. she couldn't resist but ask, "Do you really think I look beautiful, Mrs. Lily?"
Lillian gasped dramatically. "Oh my goodness, Anne, Your dressing is magnificent! A cascade of silk as black as the captivating beauty of darkness itself. But it takes one thing to wear a beautiful dress, and quite another to be beautiful and confident enough to truly own it.
Don't just wear the dress and walk like it was designed just for you- because it was.
The air hung heavy with the sense of gardenias and champagne, as a distance, creative tension turned into full, vibrant waltz.
The carriage pulled to a halt. she stepped out with all eyes on her.
People whispered some good and bad. Oh, her dress sparkled just like the stars, a child said.
"Shhhh, she'll hear you."
"Anne had a sly smile on her lips."
She had chosen a deep, elegant black gown transitioning to a pale white, adorned with intricate lacing and sparkling stones. with an open back which a gold chain dangled gracefully and a high slit designed to reveal her milky long legs that played with the dirty imagination of men. she relaxed herself as she allowed herself to completely immense herself in the melodies of the violins.
As the music swelled, the violins weaving a spell that anne found herself completely immersed in.
As the tempo quickened, pulling her gaze towards a cluster of noblewomen whose laughter, a bright and unapologetic, cut through the formal air approached her. They were a vibrant, lively bunch, their dresses whispering tales of elegance.
One woman, a vision of warmth and a beautiful smile extended her hands. "Come, the night is long let's dance!" She invited, hey eyes sparkled with mischief.
Anne didn't hesitate and gladly joined the circle of ladies, and together they moved to the pulsating rhythm of the dance. They moved not with reserved grace, They laughed and shouted"huzzah!" in joyous abandon, their voice blending with the frantic violins. There were whispers and judgmental glances everywhere, judging the noble ladies for their unladylike character.
They didn't seem to care, their laughter was so infectious that they all fell to the ground in a fit of hysterics. The night was no longer just an event. It was theirs filled with symphony of laughter, music , and the simple joy of dancing and being alive.
A chilling awareness fell upon Anne, a prickling sensation. Just a few feet away, an unseen gaze bore into her, burning with an intensity that felt almost physical.
Anne could feel his stare, she has subtly searched everywhere to avoid anyone noticing she was looking for someone.
I could sense someone was looking at me. for a fleeting second,a thought surfaced: was it mother, perhaps, laughing at my hideous dance steps?, or father, once again showcasing me to his friends like a trophy worn against a thousand men. Or was it Sean, the gentleman who had made his intentions known for the next dance?.
But no. Mother was drinking her tea with a slice of cake with father in a heated conversation as they held hands under the table.
Aren't they getting too old for public display of affection I had said with face filled with disgust.
The gaze persisted, a heavy weight that felt like it was burning her skin. whoever it was, they knew I was aware of them, and that knowledge sent shivers down my spine.
Anne was abruptly pulled back to the reality of the tea party by a voice as smooth as aged wine, "How do you do,dear? I'm Lady Clara".
Anne made a graceful courtesy, "I'm Lady Anne. You dance beautifully, and you are truly stunning".
Lady Clara was truly a beauty, her eyes a startling bright brown, eyes- the colour of Cadbury chocolate that Anne knew she would never forget. She moved with an innate grace that would have made her a celebrity in any era.
Anne had silently contemplated the power that radiated from this woman of colour, a power so strong it commanded the respect and fear of the white men in the room.
It was clear Lady Clara possessed a charm men only dreamt of, but it was evident she had come in today to enjoy her tea party and nothing else. Her attire was a striking orange dress adorned with white petal floral designs. Her curly hair swept in a clean updo, with a few playful strands escaping ,adorned orange flowers in it, which was unlike nothing the ladies were wearing.
Lady Clara was different; she looked as tho she was from the future. Only a silver necklace the only thing that seemed to match era.
She carried the most dazzling bags and wore silver shoes that sparkled, her beauty just like tales of mythical sea beings the blackbeard pirates used to whisper about in the early 1700s
Heavens, my dear, your grace on the floor is utterly captivating! It's quite impossible to tell if you've had formal training or if your simply a natural.
Anne chuckled, "oh I assure you, lessons sometimes are a necessity! My dancing can be positively frightening otherwise."
Clara burst into a fleet of giggles, drawing some glances down her way. "Frightful, you say? I once gave my poor mother a minor heart attack when I attempted to surprise her with a mini dance show.
A moment of shared amusement passed, "so, " Clara continued, her tone shifting to one of mild curiosity, I haven't seen you before, have I ?.
"Oh, i do attend parties, "Anne replied, "but this is my only second thé dansat. The gowns are simply divine, are they not? Though, I may confess, these corsets are the very instrument of torture. And the notion that they are fashioned from whalebone... She shuddered in disgust.
Clara's eyes widened."you've got to be kidding me! I too have heard those dreadful whispers, which is precisely why i intended to abandon the wretched thing entirely. No" leaning in Anne confirmed, No,no, it is no mere rumor. My dress maker, Lillian, verified it. Though, she did clarify they are not actually bones from a whale. I believe she mentioned the baleen whale; the material comes from their mouths. Her husband, bless him, said it's the very same material as our very own nails and hair".
Just then the waiter, silent as a ghost, carrying a tray of two heavy glasses of dark, liquid: Madeira & port. Anne's throat was already dry from all the laughing and talking. she took a hesitant sip, the syrupy sweetness coating her tongue, A marsala would have even been better, she thought, suppressing a frown. Definitely not a fan of this.
Clara noticed the subtle frown on Anne's face. A low chuckle escaped her lips.
"It's too manly," she whispered, and they shared a knowing laugh, the tension breaking.
"We have so much in common, Anne".
The two women finished their drinks, the conversation flowing easily from whalebone to fashion to marriage prospects and cracked some jokes. As dusk settled, Anne bid Clara farewell, both of them promising future letters and visits. The carriage ride home was a blur of exhaustion and unease. I couldn't help but allow my thoughts to drift to me and Clara discussion, the corset of much debate in her social circle. Upon arriving at my house i quickly got off the carriage, I retired immediately to my chambers. The maids helped me out of my day dress into a simple cotton night dress. Finally, i slid beneath the cool, crisps, sheets. The silence of my room was a stark contrast to the lively chatter of the afternoon. Staring up at the canopy, I couldn't shake the image of a baleen whale from my mind. The thought of fashion being so intertwined with nature was so fascinating.
A slight shiver ran through my spine, definitely the cold winter warning me to raise the heavy quilt higher, I had to force myself not to think about those pairs of eyes as I drifted too gently to sleep.