This is a period piece set in the early 1900's. There isn't a great deal of sex in it, but it does explore more deeply the thoughts and feelings of the characters. I hope you enjoy it.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are 18 years or older when in sexual situations.
Chapter One
New York City -- 1910's
The Gift
A fair haired ingénue was looking out the living room picture window, watching as a horse drawn wagon plodded along in front of her family's Upper East Side brownstone under a hot mid-day sun. An open air car passed the wagon, driven by a chauffeur with a stylishly dressed woman with long flaming red tresses trailing behind her in the breeze. Elizabeth was reading "The Emerald City of Oz," a gift from her Aunt Catherine, which was now sitting on her lap. Elizabeth was daydreaming, picturing herself as Glinda, the good witch, dressed in a fancy, sparkly ball gown, and being whisked in a limousine to a fantastical party. Her reverie was broken by the entrance of her nanny.
"Come girls. Your aunt will be here shortly." Mavis spoke in the stern voice she used when she brooked no protest. Elizabeth knew it and put down her book, smoothing the bottom of her dress as she got out of the ornate Louis XIV armchair. Her younger sister, Penelope, had the obstinacy of an eight year old and naturally was not as cooperative. She was playing with her dolls on the floor and pretended that she didn't hear the clear instructions of her nanny.
Mavis put her hands on her hips and affixed a glare on her face that said she meant business. The fifty something woman had been in the employ of the Tripplehorn family for thirty years, taking over from her mother Edith, who had been the family's nanny and housekeeper for as long as anyone could remember. Penelope, affectionately known by her family as Penny, looked up and saw the glare and knew it wasn't the time to push her luck. She reluctantly put down her doll and followed her "Nanna" and her older sister into the white marble foyer and up the broad, curved staircase to the second floor.
The girls knew it was bath time, and within the hour their Aunt Catherine would be visiting to celebrate Elizabeth's 15
th
birthday. Catherine was Elizabeth's favorite aunt. She was the youngest of three sisters, Elizabeth's mother Blanche being the oldest. Blanche always had a soft spot in her heart for Catherine. Catherine was always the flame that burned the brightest. She was the prettiest, the smartest, most glamorous (and outspoken) of the three sisters, often running interference with their late father, an overbearing man who thought that women belonged at home, and not in the workplace. Blanche was making the final preparations for the small birthday celebration. Usually all three sisters would celebrate the birthdays of their nieces and nephews, but Marianne, the middle sister, was travelling to California with her husband and their three children.
Mavis had already prepared the food for the luncheon that featured watercress sandwiches, sliced ham, and fresh mixed berries. The immaculately prepared food was already on the dining room table, along with the family's best china, silver and crystal. Mavis had also baked a birthday cake, which was sitting on the well-worn marble countertop in the kitchen. It was Elizabeth's favorite, a devil's food cake with a white butter cream frosting.
Catherine arrived early, as she often did for family social events. She knew that the girls would be getting ready, and her early arrival would allow her a few minutes of time alone with Blanche. She felt remiss in not visiting more often as she and her husband Kenneth lived almost directly across from Blanche on the Upper West Side. Karl, the butler, answered the door and escorted Catherine to the drawing room that adjoined the foyer (the living room being on the opposite side of the foyer). Being a fashion maven, Catherine was always dressed in the last styles from Paris, this time wearing a broad brimmed hat with a large feather, a low cut floor length blue velour dress that was filled out with her ample bosom, and black leather lace-up boots that form fitted her calves and feet. Karl returned with a glass of champagne and upon leaving the drawing room pulled the heavy wood paneled doors shut.
Catherine always liked this room. It was small and intimate, with exquisitely carved wainscoting and a perfectly framed view of the small rose garden in front of the house. When she was a teenager, she recalled the stolen kiss in this moonlit room that would have scandalized the family.
As Catherine was sipping the last of her champagne Blanche slid the doors open carrying a flute and an open bottle. She placed the flute and bottle on a side table and shut the doors. Catherine stood up and the two sisters embraced -- the warm and heartfelt embrace of siblings who were always close.
"Cat, it's been too long," Blanche said as she held her younger sister at arm's length. She used a term of endearment that few others used, her sister now opting for the more formal form of her name than the shortened version used during her youth. Blanche admired her sister's elegance and grace, having watched her youthful good looks transition into the beautiful, mature woman.
Catherine nodded. "We live just on the other side of Manhattan, yet we only seem to manage visits months apart. I know that with you bringing up two young girls and me with the work for the wildlife conservation society it leaves little time for the two of us to get together," she openly lamented. "I can't wait to see Elizabeth and Penelope. Elizabeth so looks like you."
Blanche topped off her older sister's glass and filled her flute. "I'm glad you're here," she said. "But I notice that Kenneth isn't with you." Kenneth was Catherine's husband of five years. Kenneth was the youngest son of the Blackburn family, a family whose patriarch was the head of a prominent bank. The Blackburn and Tripplehorn families had always been close, and the union between Kenneth and Catherine seemed pre-ordained.
"Kenneth is talking about enlisting in the British Army," she said with despair. "Kenneth has dual citizenship with the U.S. and Great Britain. He's meeting with people he knows in the British consulate to see if he can join." Catherine's face was one of great concern, but inside she had mixed feelings. She was fond of Kenneth, but their relationship had never blossomed into true love. Kenneth had become even more distant in their marriage and Catherine suspected for some time that he was having an affair with his personal secretary. She was debating whether she wanted to share this information with her older sister. They had always been close, and secrets like this one would have been freely shared. However, they were taught in proper society, that such matters were to be addressed between spouses and not shared outside the bedroom. She decided not to burden her older sister with her worries.
"It's such a mess over there. The reports here aren't good. It looks like America is going to be drawn into this war whether we like it or not," Blanche observed with good reason. "I understand that there were tens of thousands of casualties in an area called Flanders. Did you hear about that?"
Catherine had heard about it. Everyone had. It was a wholesale slaughter of German, Belgium, French and British troops. It horrified her, and made her think of Kenneth's folly in attempting to enlist in the British Army just so he could be on the front lines of mass murder. This was truly a Great War, and she wanted no part of it. "I've read about it and I'm appalled."
Blanche nodded. "So what do you think about Kenneth enlisting? I'm sure you're not happy about it."
"Of course I'm not," her sister replied. "I've begged him not to. I wish this whole nonsense about internal squabbles between the countries in Europe didn't devolve into worldwide carnage."
