Samh
9.04.1342 22:00
The apartments exclusively devoted to the daughter
and niece of Lieutenant Gillfillian were peculiar in their construction and
arrangement. It was the result of genuine taste and unsparing wealth. In the
center was a parlor common to both. It was small but elegant and convenient. The
far wall of the parlor consisted of glass triangles with a rectangular glass
door in the center that led to an upper balcony where they could look down on
the street below.
A plush gray rug rivaling the thickest velvet in
beauty and softness was in the center of the dark gray rubber tile floor. Neon
tube lights ran between some tiles and matched similar light designs on the
walls and between some of the triangular window frames. Two white, low, plush sofas
and four ottomans invited all entering to indolent and luxurious repose.
Next to the entry door opposite the windowed wall was
an ornamented gray fireplace with tiny lights in blue and pink accenting it. A towering
mirror outlined in the neon lights was on each side of the beautifully carved
electric fireplace. Over it was a viewscreen.
The remaining two walls that connected the fireplace
wall to the windowed wall looked identical. On each light gray wall were three
black sliding panels. One panel led to a small private den, Abaledina’s on one
side and Jeanilotta’s on the other, with a miniature library, collections of
curiosities, beautiful and rare pictures, a writing table, and an easy chair
unique to each girl’s style and preferences. The window in this room was made from
two triangular panes that shared a side. Under that was a window box filled
with fragrant and treasured exotic plants, giving the dens tranquility and
mental enjoyment.
The center sliding panel contained each girl’s bright,
white bathroom with a vanity beneath a mirrored wall and a large closet. On the
other side of the bathroom door, the last sliding panel concealed a sleeping
room with a luxuriant queen-sized bed covered with a down-filled silk comforter.
Jeanilotta’s room was decorated in yellow hues and Abaledina’s in violet. A
sliding door on one wall of the bedroom allowed the girls direct access to
their bathrooms.
Abaledina retreated to her bedroom after bringing
Jeanilotta the requested seltzer and medicine. She told her maid to retire, and
afterward, she prepared for bed, spending an hour in calm reflection seated at
the bathroom vanity, typing her day’s thoughts in a journal on her com-tab. Her
figure was slight. Her face was rounded and conveyed a combination of innocent frankness,
strong intellectual power, moral greatness, and childlike simplicity. Her sapphire
eyes held a calm, confiding look, which would be tough to betray. Her hair was a
rich, silky chestnut and hung over her fair neck in naturally wavy ringlets of
childhood. Physically, her cherubic face was young-looking for the twenty
summers she had seen. Mentally, the circumstances she had already lived through
gave her a maturity of thought and feeling that usually belonged to those who
were older.
As Abaledina entered her bedroom, she touched the button
that closed the panel to the shared parlor, and it quickly concealed her from all
intrusion. Then, climbing into her bed, she gazed for a long time at the yet
unopened message from Eriath, as if by staring at it without opening it, she
could discern its contents. At last, she clicked on it.
Now and then tears flowed over each pale cheek,
and occasionally, she would pause to wipe them as she read:
Do you remember, my dear, the day we were betrothed—when
you, a little angel of twelve years, knelt with me beside my parents and your
only surviving one? I remember how your father prayed for our happiness when we
fulfilled his last dying wish. Through our long separation, I have been true to
our pledge. I haven’t given a thought, a wish, nor a dream to any other. I joyfully
anticipate the hour of our marriage. That event will place the happiness of my
whole future into your keeping.
I’ve finished my course of study. I’m now prepared to begin
working. Permit my hand and heart to be my first offering to you—the shrine I
have so long worshipped. I’m confident you would never destroy my
long-cherished hopes just as I’ve been faithful to you. Tomorrow, I will be
home. I look forward to setting date to marry as soon as possible so all my dreams
for the future will be fulfilled.
—Love, Eriath
“Tomorrow,” she repeated sadly. “So soon? Eriath,
you don’t know what you ask.” With that, she pressed her thumb and forefinger
to her eyes as if to shut out the future.
At this moment, the panel to her room slid open,
and she jumped at the unexpected intrusion. Her aunt stood before her. Pointing
to her com-tab and smiling in a way that those less familiar with her would
presume was sweet and artless, she said, “I apologize for disturbing you so
late. I just viewed my messages, and I see by your face that you must have also
finished the one my son sent you.”
Surprised and perplexed at how her aunt had perceived
what she had finished reading less than a minute ago, Abaledina replied, “Then
you have received notice of—of his intention to return?”
“And of his desire for the immediate consummation
of your father’s last command,” continued her aunt.
“My father did not command me,” Abaledina countered
gently but proudly.
“Pardon, my dear,” her aunt said condescendingly.
“I refer to your dying father’s last wish—your marriage to my son. I’m sure
it’s timidity that prevents you from speaking with me freely, but I am sure you
will remain faithful to your pledge and will appoint an early day for its
fulfillment. My son expresses himself warmly.”
During this speech, Abaledina resumed her usual
serenity.
“Eriath is far too noble, too generous, and too confiding
to be willfully deceived by me,” she said. “I respect and admire him, but I don’t
love him. Without that, my hand would be a worthless bauble.”
“But your pledge to your father as he was
breathing his last—you surely will honor that?” her aunt asked, feigning shock.
“As a child,” the noble girl continued fearlessly,
“I loved my cousin more than anything else, but it was with a sister’s pure love.
Time and a deeper knowledge of my own nature have revealed this to me. I know
there is a slumbering fountain of love within me, something Eriath has never awoken.
I must remain free of marriage until I find the man who can rouse this true
love in me.”
A frown gradually grew across her aunt’s brow, and
she rubbed her fingers roughly over it as it steeled. As soon as Abaledina
finished, her aunt shook her head and forced another strained smile.
“You must be concealing something from me,” she
began sweetly. “Are you attached to someone else? Don’t fear. You can trust me
with your secret, my dear. You know I would be the last person to urge you to fulfill
this promise, sacred though it be, if that’s the case. I would support you even
though Eriath’s future happiness and his very life, depend upon you fulfilling your
promise to marry him. Trust your secret with me.”
“I’ve already explained my feelings to you,” Abaledina
said, not thrown off her guard for an instant by this insinuating speech. “You
well know that I have no other lover. Nothing prevents me from accepting Eriath’s
offer except my exalted idea of true love. It’s time I retire, and I no longer
wish to discuss this with you. I plan to be frank about my feelings with Eriath
tomorrow. I have confidence in him and his honor that he will voluntarily surrender
my hand because my hand doesn’t come with my heart.”
“And what if he is not disinterested as you seem
to assume,” pressed the proud woman with narrowed eyes. “What if he refuses to
release you from your promise?”
Abaledina started. She had not conceived a possibility
of this. “Then I’ll gladly and without guilt rid myself of a man, who is neither
noble nor great and who has no love in his heart nor understands its value. But
I know him better than you. He will, at my request, delay it a year or two, and
in the meantime—”
“Yes! In the meantime, what will happen?” angrily
demanded her aunt, unable to hold her friendly demeanor any longer.
“There can be but two results. I’ll begin loving
him and decide to be his bride. Or, I’ll accept that I’ll never love him and attain
the age when my person and property will be independent of my uncle’s control,”
Abaledina replied, uncowed by her aunt’s aggressive display.
Mrs. Gillfillian could not hide her flustered surprise.
Abaledina could easily understand her aunt’s shock. For the past eight years
during her residence with them, she had been nothing but submission and
obedience. This was the first time she tested her strength and firmness against
her guardians.
A dark shadow of evil flitted across her aunt’s
face so quickly that Abaledina thought perhaps it was the dim light playing
tricks on her eyes. That seemingly sweet and artless smile that her aunt had
used at the beginning of their conversation almost instantly replaced it. She
gracefully walked over to Abaledina, pushed aside the curls from her forehead, and
kissed it.
“Don’t worry,” she said almost lovingly, “everything
shall work out for the best. I could not find it in my heart to deny you
anything. I know that Eriath loves you so tenderly that you wouldn’t—you couldn’t
resist the pleasure of returning it. Retire now, my dear, and let him find
fresh roses upon your cheeks tomorrow.”
After the panel slid shut and she was again left
in solitude, the young girl reflected on the conversation. She could love—she
was conscious of it—yet she knew she never had loved. As much as she was
infatuated with Viscount Elwynalam, she knew it took more than a chance meeting
for love to develop. Further, she was certain that Eriath wouldn’t be the man
who revealed to her that one great emotion. The only thing that distressed her
about the decision was having to break his noble heart since he apparently
believed himself to be in love with her.
No comments:
Post a Comment