Post by narumei on Mar 12, 2008 3:40:55 GMT -5
“Call it what you like,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not true.” She smiled at him but said no more. Abigail had said little recently. Speaking only when spoken to or when necessary, she had aroused the suspicion and concern of the other girls and teachers. Especially from Grace. “What subjects are you studying?” he asked her.
“I’m studying French, literature, mathematics, science, geography and horse-riding.” she said. Her brother prompted her further.
“And are they satisfactory?” he asked, willing her to talk more. Anything to distract him from the guilt he still felt.
“Yes. Quite,” she said. Nathaniel threw up his hands in exasperation and leant back on the lounge. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared again at the portrait of the brightly coloured lorikeet on the wall.
There was an awkward silence that lasted almost five minutes. Nathaniel felt that it was hopeless to try to talk to her and her father didn’t know what to say. Abigail simply felt that there was no reason to talk unless necessary. The silence continued. The door to the hall suddenly opened and Cynth walked through, carrying a tray with three tea-cups, a teapot and an assortment of biscuits. She placed them on the small table in between Abigail and her relatives, smiling brightly, as always. She glanced at both Abigail and Nathaniel and seemed to notice the tense atmosphere surrounding them. She opened her mouth to say something, obviously thought better of it, and walked out the room again, shutting the door firmly behind her. Abigail listened to her footsteps slowly fading, before looking back to the men opposite her. Nathaniel was staring after Cynth, while Lord Bryan was fidgeting and looking in lots of different places. She looked down at the tray in front of her. The teapot was sitting lonely, steam steadily wisping through the spout. The teacups next to it faced away from it, empty and clean. Abigail stood up and walked to the table, leaning over it slowly. She took the sugar and placed two lumps each in two of the teacups and one in the other. Grasping the blue-white handle of the teapot, she poured the steaming drink into the cups, evenly filling each one. She stirred each and handed the one with two sugars to Nathaniel and the one with one sugar to her father. They nodded their thanks and took the cups. She took hers back to her chair along with a short-bread biscuit. The teapot stood on the table, still steaming, alone and used. They drank their tea in silence, the biscuits on the table slowly decreasing in population. Nathaniel had turned back to the painting on the wall.
“Tell me, Nathaniel,” Abigail broke the silence bravely, “what is your fascination with lorikeets?” he turned to stare at her,
“Nothing in particular. I just admire the painting. It is quite incredible actually.” He said
“But you weren’t admiring it, were you. You based your opinion on it just then,” Abigail said. Nathaniel grimaced. Of course she was spot on. Abigail was not stupid, he had always admitted that she was probably smarter than he. Now that he looked, he saw that the painting actually was quite lovely.
“Father, what do you think?” Abigail asked. Lord Bryan was so startled that Abigail spoke to him that he accidentally dribbled some tea down his chin. He cleared it up quickly with his handkerchief and looked at the painting. He frowned, the valleys in his forehead sinking with age.
“I think the style is plain, too common. The bird must have been copied from a picture for I have never seen a lorikeet of that breed in England. I don’t like it,” he finished, turning away from the painting.
“Indeed it was from a picture but I don’t think it’s all that bad for a first try.” Abigail said, quietly.
“First time, you say?” Bryan Senior asked, and looked again at the painting with renewed interest. “I find it hard to believe that skill like that came from a first try. How do you know it was a first try? Do you know the artist?”
“I am the artist.” Abigail said, before taking a long sip from her tea, now decidedly cold. Nathaniel looked at her questioningly.
“You don’t paint.’ He told her. Abigail raised her eyebrows questioningly.
“Apparently she does.” Her father said dryly, his eyes fixed to the painting. They said no more about it. The atmosphere remained tense, everybody looking in different directions. Abigail sensed that the painting had annoyed both her father and her brother, but she didn’t know why.
“Well, it must be time for us to go,” her father said suddenly, standing up. Nathaniel looked up in surprise,
“We’re leaving already?” he asked, “but we’ve only been here for about twenty minutes.”
“Yes, well, I have work to do at home. I can’t just sit around all day like some people.” Nathaniel stood up slowly. Looking over at Abigail, he realised that she was just as confused as he was about their father’s behaviour. She stood up and extended her hands towards her father.
“It was lovely to see you father. It was good of you to come.” He took her hand and shook it roughly, shaking Abigail’s small frame along with it. She snatched her hand back as politely as she could manage with-out offending her father. Instead of making the same mistake twice, she simply curtsied to her brother.
“Do come see me soon, Nathaniel,” she said, more out of courtesy than an actual wish to see him again. He nodded his assent and retrieved his and his father’s coat from the hangers beside the door. “Say hello to mother for me,” she continued, knowing well that they would do no such thing. Her father walked out the door first, and she heard him walking away. When Nathaniel reached the door, he turned back to Abigail. The look he sent her was so intense, she had to look away. Misinterpreting her reaction, Nathaniel sighed and walked out, closing the door to Abigail hard behind him. Abigail fell onto the couch, her head buried in her arms. Nathaniel look had not left her mind, the coldness of his gaze etched into her memory. He looked sad, confused, angry and pitying all at the same time. And something else she noticed about him. His eyes had turned almost completely brown.
“Honestly Abigail, it couldn’t have been that bad.”
“Grace,” Abigail said with a laugh, “do you think ill of no-body? It was awful. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say the whole time.” Abigail was stretched out across her bed, a teacup steaming in her hand.
“Well, maybe it is just that things have become awkward. After all you haven’t seen them for almost four months.” Grace said, from her perch at the end of the bed.
“But would that not mean that we have much more to talk about?” Abigail sighed.
“Well, if you don’t mind me saying, you did not part well.” Grace said cautiously, unable to guess Abigail’s mood.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I suppose you are right.” Grace’s gaze turned downcast. She didn’t know what to do with Abigail anymore. She acted happier, more polite and she had not acted up in class since the first literature lesson. Yet, her eyes had sunken and greyed. Grace could see that Abigail no longer had the ability or energy to hide her sadness, and though she denied it, even to herself, her despair was slowly consuming her. Desperate to change the subject, Grace spoke suddenly,
“Do you know yet if you are going to go to the Matthews’ Ball?” she said, eagerness lighting her face. Abigail looked up, confused. “Oh, please tell me you know what I’m talking about. Everyone had been talking about it for weeks! The Matthews’ are holding a ball at their house in London. Ma has picked twenty of us to go, and you are invited. She spoke to you about this the other week. Don’t you remember at all?” She did not, of course, but she didn’t tell Grace that.
“Oh, yes. Sorry, I was distracted. I’m not sure if I should go.” Abigail said.
“Oh but Abigail, you must. If you don’t then I cannot.”
“Why ever not? You don’t need me there, do you?” Abigail asked, in surprise.
“Of course I do Abigail. I shall know no one but the other girls, and you know that they do not like me much,” she said quickly. “Besides, it’ll do you good. You haven’t spoken to anyone but me and the teachers in such a long time. You don’t even ride anymore.” She said, trying to guess Abigail’s response.
“Ok, I will go.” Abigail said. She didn’t realise that she had been so careless in hiding her attitude. “But promise me that you will stay with me and not wonder off with other people. I know even less people than you.” Grace stared at her wide-eyed. Abigail was not a shy person, nor was she insecure, especially about meeting new people. She had always approached maids and guests with enthusiasm as though they were old friends. Grace was worried about Abigail but she tried to hide it.
“Of course, and I will get ready here, in your room with Cynth and you.” Abigail laughed. Grace had made herself at home in Abigail’s room, visiting at least once a day. She and Cynth had become fast friends, finding much in common with each other. Grace and Abigail continued to wear each other’s dresses, but even though Abigail had tried on all of Grace’s dresses, Grace had not even tried half of Abigails.
As the day of the ball drew nearer, the girls that had been chosen to go became excitable and unable to concentrate on their studies. They became so disruptive, in fact, that Lady Maxine had to take them out of their classes a week before the ball. Grace could hardly contain her excitement, speaking only of the ball at every opportunity. Abigail had of course been to balls and parties before, but never without her family and seeing the other girls so excited admittedly made her excited too.
“I think I should wear the pink dress,” Grace was saying, on one of her many planners for the ball, “but, the white one you own looks quite good as well. But is white too formal for a ball? And what about gloves, do you think they would suit the blue dress? If I wear the blue one, I should wear my hair up. Don’t you think? And what slippers shall I wear? Oh it is a good thing we’re the same size!” Abigail rolled her eyes.
“Why are you asking me, Grace? You know perfectly well that I don’t know all this. Why don’t you ask Katherine?” Katherine, at hearing her name, spun her head around, green eyes sparkling.
“What was that?” she asked, smiling widely.
“Katherine, would you please help Grace decide what to wear to the ball. I can’t help her.” Abigail said. Katherine’s smile faded a little and she looked at Abigail.
“How many times do I have to ask you to call me Katie? Or Kate even. Katherine is too old for me.” Grace groaned, knowing what was coming next.
“Katherine is the name you were given at your birth. It is the name your parents gave you. It is the name I will call you. As always.” Abigail finished quietly, her words barely audible. She stood up and walked out of the girls’ common room.
“Why is she like that to me? Does she not like me?” Katie asked Grace when Abigail had gone from earshot.
“No, it is not that at all,” Grace reassured her. “Abigail has trouble with names. Did you know that she used to hate the name Abigail? She would only answer to Abby when she was younger.” Katie’s eyes widened in shock, and Grace smiled at her sadly. “I don’t know the whole story but her family have sort of abandoned her. She used to be very difficult, you see, and they made her come here, to see if it would straighten her out, I suppose. From then on, she couldn’t stand nick-names, especially the ones her family called her. You know, she makes her own brother address he as miss?” Grace looked up at Katie and saw tears filling her eyes. “Oh, Katie. No, don’t cry. It’s ok. She’s fine as she is. I’m sorry. Please stop crying ok?” By now Katie was letting out small gasps, unable to contain her sadness. Grace knew she should have expected it, Katie was always very excitable. She cried at the drop of a hat but the smallest thing seemed to make her smile for hours. Katherine had started at school only a month after Abigail did. She was also from a very rich family but they had lived in Barbados until recently, for her father was a military officer stationed there. She had made friends easily with Grace and Abigail, who had immediately accepted her as she was. By now, she was openly sobbing and attracting the curious glances of other girls in the class. “No, please stop. It’s ok. She’s happy now, she always acts like that these days, so don’t worry about it ok?” At a loss, Grace threw her arms around Katie, trying to comfort her.
“Hey now, what’s this? Pretty girls shouldn’t have reason to cry like this,” said a powerful voice just above them. They both looked up and recoiled in shock. “Ha-ha, am I that scary?” Lucas asked, with a smile.
“No, sorry Mr Jacobs, you just startled us. What are you doing in here? This is for women.” Grace said back. Grace had never really liked Mr Jacobs. From the moment Abigail introduced her to him on their first horse-riding lesson, Grace thought there was something odd about him, never really accepting him as a friend and ignoring him when possible.
“I have to fix the door in the next room, I was just taking it apart when I heard crying,” he said evenly. “So I came to check it out.” Some of other girls in the room were giggling behind their hands, whispering to each other, and others were staring, pretty blushes slowly spreading across their cheeks. Well, Grace thought, He is handsome.
“Well, we’re fine. She was just upset by Abigail. But everything is ok now.” Grace said, not bothering to hide her annoyance at his presence. Suddenly, Lucas’ gaze dropped, and he looked awkward.
“That reminds me, Grace, would I be able to have a word with you? Outside perhaps?” this caused a lot more giggling from the other girls. Grace snapped her head to look at him angrily.
“What is it?”
“That’s just rude! I could ask you in front of all these girls, but I really don’t think you want me to do that. So will you please step outside for just a moment?” he pleaded. Grace looked at him curiously, then stood up. She stalked out of the room and slammed it behind her, without leaving it open for him. He sighed and looked back at the pretty crying girl in front of him. “You’re Katie, right?” he asked. She looked up, sniffling quietly.
“Yes. Katherine, but you can call me Kate, or Katie. I don’t mind,” she flashed him a sparkling grin, showing two neat rows of white teeth.
“Kate, you shouldn’t cry. Things aren’t always as they seem.” He reached his hand over her shoulder towards the table behind her. She cringed at their proximity, and tried to pull back. He stood up straight again, quicker than she had expected. He was holding a white rose; the petals of which hadn’t even opened yet. He passed it to her, along with a clean white handkerchief. Leaning down to her ear he whispered “as this rose opens and blooms, so will you grow and become beautiful.” He stood up smiling; enjoying the reaction his performance had started. He left Katie in the chair and headed to the door that Grace had just walked through, without turning back. Katie sat in the same position, stunned, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Just before the door shut itself, Katie saw the shocked expression on Grace’s face. She wished that she had heard what it was that Lucas said to Grace.
“Katie! Oh Katie, I found you. Good-Lord I was searching everywhere,” said the ever shrill voice of Lady Maxine. Katie jumped to her feet and curtsied politely.
“What can I do for you, Ma?”
“Oh, Jane, from class 34, has come down with a terrible cold.” She said calmly, sitting down opposite Katie. “The doctor said that she needs to stay in bed for at least two weeks. Maybe longer.” Katie was confused. She knew Jane, but hadn’t really talked to her.
“Do you need me to bring her something?” she asked.
“No, no, of course not. She was one of the girls going to the ball. And as you are new here, you are her replacement. Do you accept?” she asked, with little interest.
“Of course!! This is so exciting!!”
thats all for now, be back with m ore later