Mrs cara do you think father is well?" I asked, as I ran my hand over a bolt of shimmering silk. "He seemed so.... insistent about the hat."
The older woman paused, her expression guarded.
"Your father, miss Anne, simply wishes for his daughter to shine. Nothing more."
I turned from the shimmering silk, a delicate frown creasing my brow. "Shine, Mrs cara? It seems more a matter of being displayed, like a prize mare at the county fair. First the hat, next no doubt the announcement of my wedding."
Mrs. cara soothed her apron, her gaze softening slightly. "There'd be an upcoming ball soon. Lord Harrington would be expected to attend, is he not? A fine match, your father believes."
Anne sighed, the silk forgotten. Lord Harrington is a bore, Mrs. cara and twice my age. His conversations revolves solely around his hunting dogs and the price of grain. Is that the 'shine' father envisions for me? A life of obligations and forced smiles.
"A life of security and standing" Mrs. Cara countered gently "Not all matches are forged from the fires of passion,miss. some are built on respect and shared purpose. Your father only wishes for your future to be secure especially giving the..... Recent troubles".
Anne's eyes widened slightly. "The troubles? You mean the Buisness setbacks? Father insists all is well.
"He insists you shine," Mrs. Cara repeated, a note of finality in her voice. "Perhaps the hat is simply a good change, surely Anne you need a new style". Your father just happened to see that.
...
This fabric is absolutely stunning, but I want it to be in the color red, Mrs. Cara said, gazing hopefully.
Lady Anne, "A red gown would be stunning but perhaps too bright, especially for your complexion. It would be advisable to procure something of a darker color, then we could style your hair with some volume, perhaps a maryln Monroe inspiration or a simple ponytail, and offer either bold lips, striking eyes, or a simple natural makeup look, I could.."
"There would be no such need, my preferences are quite simple. Since I shall not be wearing a hat, a black veil, perhaps? I wish my hair to be simply dressed, nothing more, nothing less, perhaps a touch of red on the lips and a black dress with a sheer black scarf".
Lady Anne your father would definitely not be pleased to see you tonight with a black dress, Mrs. Cara said.
"Well, he would not know, would he? Besides, he will be pleased to see me without a hat." I replied
"You are still covering your hair", the old woman, Mrs. Cara observed.
"But one can see my hair, can they not? Anne interjected smoothly..
....
The gown was magnificent, far exceeding its description. As the lace veil touched my skin. Her thoughts drifted to lady clara, she was supposed to write to her, cherishing their shared moments. Lady Clara would have praised her in this dress, and that thought made me feel a pang of sweet longing for their shared moments.
The persistent feeling of being watched had stopped days before prior; it seems like whatever that was grew tired of her real soon.
My father had mentioned specific instructions, he said there would be a man I was not to talk to, and to make sure that he didn't speak to her, other than that, the evening would be an evening filled with chess and liquor.
He had told me how he had fore warned the gentleman of his female's companion's attendance; they had promised to be on their best behaviors and to bring wines. I had also asked about the smoking; he laughed and said that he couldn't do anything about it .
Upon the carriage's arrival, her father ensured that it was beautifully decorated, designed for the very goddess chloris(flora). A memory from childhood memories.
Father and daughter linked arms, their chatter filling the journey to the boardroom hall. The building was grand and beautiful, with laughter already echoing through the gates and music, a feeling of yearning for past joys that made my heart ache with a gentle sweetness.
"Father, does one truly call this a boardroom? Tis merely a club. I had anticipated chairs, tables, documents scattered with purpose, and perhaps even a machine dispensing dreadful coffee.The staircase, so elegant and book coded in its appearance, quite deceived me.
My father chuckled, a rich sound. "Anne, we use the term 'boardroom' for the business we conduct upstairs. The downstairs you see is reserved for amusement. I confess, I did not expect such a lively assembly tonight."
My irritation flared; Father if this is what your men call 'behaving themselves', then the very dogs in the yards are introverts. This is, Frankly, disturbing.
"Anne, you are quite too polished dear", he remarked with a smile.
"Well," replied, " my father is Duke; take that away, and he remains a man who single-handedly forged his companies from sheer will".
"And also raised the finest daughter ever," he added, locking his hands with mine.
"As much as I am flattered by your facts, I would appreciate a place to simply sit," I sighed. This gown was quite expensive.
"If this is the expected attire for such events, next time I shall arrive with trousers, a hat, and perhaps a nose veil for good measure."
"Very well, my dear. I wish to enjoy a smoke with my companions. I shall be over there if you require me. He said handing me his jacket for safety measures. Mingle, my dearest, but do avoid that certain man.
....
As I sat, a killing headache was noticed, which was the specific reason for wanting to stay home. The chairs were as filthy as the floors. Father, bless his heart, did mention a boardroom upstairs; it should be cleaner and more peaceful than here. It would be an ideal place to finish the novel pride and prejudice, a book not read in a long time.
...
Upon arriving at the boardroom, good heavens, the boardroom was quite beautiful and enchanting.
A quiet contrast to downstairs.
The peace was nice, until I found out my dress reeked of cigarettes. This veil needed to go; a hat was preferred as it was quite convenient.
As I walked around the boardroom, I could not help but look at the stairs leading upstairs, I honestly thought there was only one stairs upstairs, or is this a secret stairs? A little peak wouldn't possibly harm a soul. "I'll definitely need to take off the heels; they would give away my presence". Anne thought to herself as she kept her heels aside.
As she walked gently upstairs with her tiptoes, it was dark, but a little candlelight led the way. This house, it seems,.was plucked straight from the pages of a gothic novel, so utterly enchanting and mysterious it is!
...
Upstairs there were three doors, yet one, not for its beauty, but it's oddness, demanded attention. Which was precisely what made it distinctive.
I reached for the door and opened it stepping into the dark abyss. It was overwhelmingly dark, my eyes struggling to adjust.
Then I heard it - a voice, deep and smooth: "Damien you are quite early, you could have informed me of your arrival". I saw a man, a silhouette, but his presence filled the room. He was in a simple towel, the rest of him bare, and the sights sent jolts of electricity running through me.
"Oh, I'm sincerely sorry," I said, a flustered warmth rising to my cheeks as I abruptly turned away. I blew out the candle I carried, plunging us into the intimate darkness. "I am sincerely sorry, I am Lady Anne, daughter of the Duke of Thornton." I wasn't aware this room was occupied, forgive my clumsiness, but it's quite dark. I would love to stay awhile until I can get a candle to return back to the party downstairs.
Silence met my plea, a heavy, charged silence. Then after a long moment, a candle was lit. I turned back. The light illuminated him, leaning against the open window, he was framed by the moonlight. He dragged on a cigarette, watching the smoke dance into the moonlight. He was still shirtless, but this time he turned his head towards me a slow, deliberate movement...
I could feel my legs slowly starting to give out, I felt a fierce, sudden heat, I could feel myself getting aroused, my body a traitor to my composure as I took in every magnificent detail of his structure.
He was magnificent, I -I can't find the right words to describe him, I was warned by my body to run, to flee from this undeniable irresistible pull, but I was rooted to the spot. My eyes trailed, mapping the planes of his chest, the curve of his muscles, a silent plea forming on my lips. I wanted him, my entire being ached with a raw, desperate yearning.A man carved by Athena herself he was a man carved from the lust and temptations of many, a weapon designed to lead us to hell-to lead me to hell, a man the gods envied.
He stared hard at me his eyes cold and hard, his eyes an intensive, captivating gaze. Those beautiful eyes, I've seen them somewhere, just then I could feel that familiar stare, this time he was right in front of me no longer a figment of my imagination.
Those eyes I could never forget, nor the feeling of his hands as they cupped my face, nor the texture of his hair as I ran my fingers through it, the possessive mark on his lips on mine.
I watched, spellbound, as he eased closer, I wanted him to come close I needed to be sure I wasn't crazy, I needed to confirm the reality of this moment. He stood face to face with me, I looked at those eyes the ones I dreamt about, those eyes gazing at me like I was a glass to be handled with great care, the eyes that held a spark of humor when he had tasted my lips.
He stared right at me desperately trying to imprint me in his memory, he reached out to touch me but as his fingers braced my cheeks, he pulled back momentarily like the flame of hell just burnt him, a flicker of raw intensity in his expressions. Then he reached again, stopping just short, his hands raised mid air.
He leaned in, I tried backing away but he was faster, his hands on the door, my bare feet cold from removing my heels but my body ignited with burning, electric desire.He leaned in close, as he closed his eyes and traced his nose along my neck, he inhaled my scents, right then I closed my eyes. All of a sudden I heard a whisper of my name from his lips, I was so deep in my world or was it the pleasure exploding in my head. He pulled back and walked back to the window, as he pulled a jacket off the rack.
The candle flickered, casting long, dancing shadows upon the walls. "There's a candle now, you'll want to start heading to the party. Your father is searching for you," The gentleman said, his tone, a blend of instructions and warning, that sent shivers down my spine.
Umm .. I stammered, dipping into a respectable courtesy, my heart a frantic bird in my chest. I walked to the table, took the candle, and excused myself, my thoughts like an angry sea; Definitely, this has to be the man father told me to avoid like a plague. The very thought sent a cool dread pooling in my stomach.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, where I was certain I left my shoes. I found them gone. Vanished. There was no way: someone must have stolen them, for I have been the only one here. Absolutely sure I had left them here. Absolutely sure. Just then, I heard my father call my name from downstairs. Surely, he was starting to look for me.
For a moment, I forgot my predicament and stopped, my gaze captured a beautiful vase-or should I say, artifact? It was undoubtedly African, surely Nigerian, from the igbo tribe. All this I knew through the intricate scribbles around the vase. It had surely been brought here by some of my people from a time where the slave trade was still as effective, but not as effective as 1901.
They were still cruel to people of colour, which made me wonder why Lady Clara was so respectable. A wave of disappointment welled over me , a silent treatment to the injustices of the world.
A sharp, impatient call of my name pierced my thoughts once more, I hurried towards the sounds, forgetting about my shoe emergency, the candle's light bobling with my every step.
....
"Father," I said, a touch of exaspiration in my voice as I finally reached him. "The way you are screaming my name would make people assume i have gone missing! You told me to mingle, and that was definitely what I was trying to do." His expression softened slightly, at my arrival, though the worry lingered in his eyes.
You took your time," he said, his voice lowering from the previous shout. "I was starting to think you'd wandered off somewhere you shouldn't." He paused, then his eyes narrowed slightly. "You didn't go upstairs, did you? The host is very particular about his guests remaining on the main floor."
A wave of guilt washed over me as I remembered the artifact and my shoe emergency. "No, Father," I said, trying to sound casual, "just mingling, as you suggested. It's quite a large house, easy to get a little turned around." I quickly adjusted my posture, hoping he wouldn't notice the missing shoe or the candle's flicker. I just hoped no one else found the beautiful, surely Nigerian, artifact I had left behind.