Emma rests her head on her arm and watches the clouds drift by. Many days have passed at the estate since her father brought her here, to spend some time with her cousin Audrey. They had played together when they were very young amidst the poplars and the weeping willows. Life was far more exciting in those earlier days. Now each day passes languidly into the next.
Father brings suitors from time to time, men of high standing and most often soldiers with impeccable credentials. Somehow none impress in the way a girl of romantic disposition believes they should. They are charming and cultured but at the same time, bold and lacking in tenderness. It is feared among her elders that Emma will grow old and alone, a spinster. At twenty years of age she is already considered by many to be on the shelf.
No-one could possibly know the depths of Emma’s passion, her love of life and her desire to find the missing piece of the puzzle that is her life. Long evenings spent in contemplation of Browning, Shelley and Rosetti cause only a deeper quandary. Why is it that none of her suitors please her? Why is it that she prefers the company of friends at the theatre or those oh so many cotillions? Perhaps familiarity is the easy answer.
The hour grows late and the evening meal will already be in preparation. Such is the way at the estate that one must be properly attired for meals, always served by a myriad of domestics in the cavernous dining hall of Gravestone Manor. Oh for a life more simple and carefree.
* * *
Her whale bone corset tightly laced and the reams of satin, beneath which reside seemingly endless layers of flannel and crinoline ending in a gaudy flounce. Topping it all a bustle as large and ungainly as a melon. Quite the ordeal. At last she is ready to present herself at the dining table.
And now having navigated the winding staircase without entangling herself in yards of cloth, the long process of introductions for tonight begins. Father has seen fit to bring along a somewhat elderly man attired in the uniform of a general or some such high rank. He is gallant yet patronizing as is so common in those of his station.
A long line of people follow, the most outstanding of which is a young woman, Charlotte Kingsbury of Suffolk. They exchange pleasantries and are ushered to their seats, as it happens at opposite sides of the grand table. It transpires that Charlotte has been living in the company of a well-connected family in London for the past year and they have high hopes for her imminent betrothal to their son Anthony.
Gazing at Emma coquettishly, Charlotte whispers that Anthony is hardly aware of that which best pleases a young woman.
Emma is taken aback. What a curious thing to say. There is a frisson between them quite distinct, yet subtle and wanton all at once. Of course she has read of such liaisons between women in books of verse but surely such activities only occur between the pages, never the sheets.
She discounts it as a flight of fancy while at once feeling a stirring, a twinge if you will of something a trifle more lascivious. Shaking her head and turning to her fellow diners she stifles the flush now rising in her face. Sir Rodney regales all with a witty tale of his adventures on the continent and one particularly scandalous event concerning a waiter and a rather glamorous young woman from Rome. Emma’s momentary flirtation, if such a term could be used, all but forgotten in a flurry of applause and toasting to the virtuosity of their host’s wit and vigor.
As one course follows another and the men retire to the drawing room for brandy and cigars, the women drift into the parlour for an after dinner aperitif and pleasant chit-chat. Emma, feeling a little light-headed from the dinner wine strolls out onto the balcony to lean on the railing and feel the refreshing air of a light breeze on her face. Summers here are most agreeable.
Aware of the presence of another Emma turns. It is Charlotte, holding two glasses and smiling.
“It seemed the meal would never end…Sherry?”, she says.
“Thank you Charlotte but I fear another drink may prove my undoing.”, Emma replies.
