Spring IX

. Ӝ .

I squinted against the bright light. All the curtains had been drawn back, allowing the sunlight to swallow the entirety of the library. The weather seemed to be improving, and the weekend was looking like it would be warm and clear.
         Élisabeth sat beside me, writing the last letter of the alphabet for her final thirty times. Her handwriting had developed its own uniqueness. The strokes were smooth and thin, unlike my blotchy scribble. I watched her finish and place her pen down.
         “Is there another?” she asked, looking up at me. When our eyes met, I could see the smallness of her pupils, which were being overcome by the vibrant color surrounding them. She blinked, once, then twice. With each sweep of her lashes, I could see more than I could before. There were a few pale green and gray specks swimming in the blue. Small, but there, glittering when she titled her head to the right and the light caught them. I thought of Rupert’s pursuance, and squeezed my hands into tight fists on the desk. I had misinterpreted his intentions in the beginning for something less serious. Then I remembered her response to his diligence and how uninterested she seemed when he leaned closer to her. I remembered the smile she gave me once I entered the room, the way her rose petal lips instantly responded to my presence. I was almost sure she had no romantic feelings towards him. Almost. 
         She blinked again and this time looked away.
         I quickly remembered that she had asked me a question that I had never answered. “Another?”
         She avoided my eyes all together now. “Er- yes. Another letter.” A red blush came to her cheeks. 
         “No,” I replied quickly. “No. You’ve finished.”
         “Will we be forming words now?”
         “We could start with learning how to write your name,” I said, running my hand over my face. "If you want."
         “How about a break instead?”
         I jumped to my feet, my chair screeching against the wooden floor. “Father?”
         My father stood in the doorway in an unbuttoned navy jacket and tan slacks. His hands were behind his back, and the action caused his white undershirt to show. “How is the lesson coming?” he asked, his expression softening when it rested on Élisabeth.
         “Oh, very well, Monsieur,” she answered. “I’ve just finished the alphabet.”
         His eyes flashed to me, and I straightened instinctively. “Already?” he said. “And, Mademoiselle, as I’ve told you before, call me Elroy.”
         She gave him a meek smile. “I’m sorry, Monsieur. I suppose you could call it a habit.”
         “And what a good habit to have,” he said, glancing at me. “Manners never harmed anyone.”
         “Andre.” My father’s voice suddenly sounded louder and seemed to shake my eardrums. Had I rolled my eyes? “How do you think Élisabeth is doing?”
         I glanced down at the paper she had been working on and all her perfect scripted letters. “Very well,” I said, remembering the words she said her father had once used. “She is a fast learner.”
         Her smile widened.
         My father appeared pleased with my response as well. He took a few steps further into the room, revealing Mardi who I hadn’t noticed to be standing hidden behind him. She was carrying a tray with a porcelain teapot, two bowls, and several small vanilla cookies.
         “I think you deserve a break then,” he said, and gestured for Mardi to bring the tray to the small round table where Rupert and I had played chess not too long ago.
         She did and silently poured two cups for us. The steam rose from the china, swirling in the vacant space above it. I could almost feel its heat from my place behind the desk. It had been so long since I had consumed something other than numbing brandy or wine, and I realized I was craving a different kind of warmth. 
         Élisabeth stood and went to sit in one of the chairs. Mardi hovered close to her side, and they exchanged small smiles.
         “Three sugars, right Mademoiselle?” asked Mardi.
         “Why, yes,” Élisabeth replied. “I’m impressed you remembered such a small detail about me.”
         I slowly walked over to join them.
         “Of course.” She twirled the string of her apron around her plump little finger and unwound it again. “It’s easy to remember when you’re as sweet as the sugar in your tea.”
         Élisabeth took Mardi’s hand in both of hers. “Why don’t you join us?”
         Mardi’s green eyes found me instantly as I took my seat across from Élisabeth. Her bottom lips quivered slightly as she looked back at their joined hands and frowned. “I have chores,” she said softly and slipped her hand out of the hold. She glanced at me again, picked up the other cup of tea, and held it out for me to take. “And no sugar for you, Monsieur. Just like you prefer it.”
         I hesitated slightly before taking the cup. When, I looked down at the dark brown liquid, I raised a brow. Even though the coloring was unpleasant, my reflection still looked back at me as clear as water. A loose strand of blond hair hung in front of my straight, downturned nose.
         I wondered what it would taste like if I added a little sugar to my tea. Surely it would be different, but would the sweetness really improve anything? 
         I tucked the strand behind my ear and put down the cup. I took my spoon, scooped out two sugar cubes from the side bowl, and dropped them into my tea. I mixed the liquid around, watching the white, dusty cubes shrink in size until they were no more.
         When I brought the china to my lips, I could almost smell the difference, as if sweetness had a smell. Or maybe it was a feeling. I smiled and sipped the warm tea. The taste was pleasant, almost welcoming. Due to the sugar, it wasn’t as strong as I recalled it to be, but I was enjoying the lightness of it.
         “There are cookies also,” said Mardi. When I looked up, I saw that she and Élisabeth were watching me.
         I put down the cup. “Er- yes. Thank you.” I picked one of the small oval cookies up, but having no intention of actually eating it, held it only.          
         The raspy sound of my father clearing his throat drew all attention back to him. Once Mardi turned, I placed the cookie back on the tray.
         “Monsieur,” Élisabeth began, turning to him, “would you like to join us?”
         I noticed that he had retreated a few steps toward the door. He was looking to his right, perhaps at the writing desk, and his gaze lingered there for a moment before he turned to us. Immediately, I saw the redness in his eyes.
          “No,” he said slowly. “No. I should—” He tried to clear his throat again, but choked a little. His lips sagged at the corners, and his lids dropped somewhat.
         “Monsieur?” Élisabeth stood suddenly. “Monsieur, are you alright?”
         My father waved his hand for her to sit back down. “All is well,” he said, his voice cracking between words. He took out his handkerchief and pressed it against his mouth.
         I picked up my cup again, laid my other arm on the rest, and took another short sip.
         My father let out a fierce cough, his body jolting forward from the force of it. Élisabeth took a step toward him, but he continued to wave her away as he had his fit. He clutched the handkerchief as if it was his life, even when the coughing died away.
         “Are you sure you’re alright, Monsieur?” Élisabeth asked again. “I could call for Angeline…”
         His veined hand trembled as he took the cloth away from his mouth and folded it. His pale lips still curled into a smile. “Just a small cough,” he said still a little hoarse. He swallowed.
         “You may be ill,” said Élisabeth. She looked over him from head to toe and grimaced. “Do you feel feverish?”
         I sipped the tea once again and noticed that it had gained a chill. Disappointed, I put it down again and pushed it to the center of the table.
         “My dear, no need to worry yourself.” He placed his hands and the soiled handkerchief behind is back. “It’s this ever-changing weather. This time of year always brings with it a few coughs and sniffles. Please, sit. Enjoy your tea while it’s still warm.”
         Too late, I thought bitterly.
         “Mardi, let’s leave these two to their lesson.”
         Mardi went to my father’s side. He lightly touched her back to lead her out of the library.
         Still standing, Élisabeth watched them leave.
         I glanced at the tray before me, not sure where to go from here. “Shall I pour you another cup, then?” I asked. “Yours must be too cold to drink by now.”
         She looked over her shoulder at me, her brows still furrowed with worry. “I think your father may be getting ill,” she said, ignoring me. “Should we call for a doctor?”
         I picked up the teapot and poured more hot tea into her cup. I then placed three cubes into the brew and stirred it. I poured myself another as well and stirred in some sugar. Finally, I shook my head. “It’s just the season. Like he said.”
         “I find that very hard to believe.”
         “He also told you not to worry.”
         “I’m surprised you aren’t as concerned as I am.”
         I crossed one leg over the other, leaned back in my chair, and sipped the hot liquid. “He is a grown man.”
         “But still your father.”
         I grunted. “Are you going to enjoy this break, or is all this going to go to waste?”
         With that, she sat back in the chair and picked up her tea. I drank some more of mine, watching her over the top of my cup. She just stared into hers, swirling the spoon around and around.
         “Come on now,” I said, fighting with the uncomfortable silence that was forming between us. “The tea isn’t that bad, is it?”
         The corner of her lips lifted as she looked up at me. “No,” she replied. “It’s isn’t bad at all.” She took a sip as if to prove it to me.
          “I think we should take advantage of this break we have been given. My father has always been very strict about schooling, so I am surprised he has offered it to us at all.”
         “I suppose you’re right,” said Élisabeth softly. “Mardi did make a lovely spread for us.”
         I nodded and took the vanilla cookie I had put down before.
         “Poor girl,” she mumbled and looked back down into her cup that she was now holding with both hands.
         I took a bite. There was a hint of lemon within the vanilla crust. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
         “Oh,” she began, “yes, but mostly to myself.” Élisabeth took another sip. “I feel for Mardi. She’s trying so hard to hold on to her childhood, but her mind is growing faster than a normal child her age.”
         I sighed. “Mardi doesn’t know much more than what is inside these walls.”
         “Well, yes, but it is aging her. To not be able to run and play for a child is torture enough, but then to force chores upon her—”
         “I force nothing upon her,” I snapped, sitting up.
         “Forgive me. I didn’t mean it that way,” she muttered. “It’s just, watching her play with something as simple as dolls and then serve us tea is like watching two different people. One is nine, while the other is going on twenty-five.”
         “I suppose Mardi never told you of how she came to be here? How she came into this situation?” When Élisabeth shook her head, I grinned. “A friend as close as you, she hasn’t told?”
         She frowned. “I guess not.”
         “Well, maybe it is something you should ask her about one day.”
         A minute of silence passed between us. I finished my tea and placed it back on the tray.
         “She looks up to you, you know,” Élisabeth said suddenly.
         I hesitated. “She does?”
         “Very much. She fears disappointing you more than anything.”
         I glanced at the cookie tray, noticing then that the cookies were put in a flower-like arrangement, each one stacked neatly on top of the other. A lot of work must have gone into something so simple. Had Mardi done this to impress me?
         “How do you know this?” I asked.
         “I have spoken to her,” she replied. “But even if I hadn’t, I could see it.”
         I felt guilt again, thick and heavy, weighing me down in the chair. Why had I been so cruel to her that night? I couldn’t remember my intentions anymore. It all seemed so pointless to me now. I had been wrong. So, so wrong. The only thing I could do now was hope time could heal the wound I had created.
         “I tried to apologize.”
         Élisabeth glanced at me. “Apologize?”
         I sighed. “I tried to apologize to Mardi for my harsh words the night of the opera, but not much has changed.” The tips of my fingers traced invisible circle patterns on the armrest. The material became a lighter shade of blue wherever I touched.
         “I know you did,” she said softly and took a small sip of her tea.
         My eyes snapped to her, and my fingers froze. “You do?”
         She nodded. “Like you said before, Mardi considers me a friend. She told me you attempted to apologize.”
         “Did she happen to tell you why she hasn’t forgiven me?”
         “She has, but you see, she is confused,” said Élisabeth. “There was still truth to your words. Mardi is determined to not disappoint you again, and to do so, she must do what you commanded. She must do her chores, and only her chores. There is no room for play.”
         I rested the back of my head on the chair and closed my eyes. Even behind the comfort of my eyelids, the sunlight still penetrated but shown in reds and oranges. When I opened them again, small specks of blue and green danced across the library and Élisabeth’s face.
         “What do I do then?” I asked as the colors returned to normal, but my temples began to thump. “Will she be cold towards me forever?”
         She shook her head and said simply, “Give her time.”
         I massaged my forehead in hopes to stop the headache that was starting. “That’s all?”
         “That’s all,” Élisabeth replied. “Unfortunately that’s the one part of Mardi that hasn’t aged.”
         “Unfortunately.” I gave a short laugh. “Though she be but little, she is fierce.”
         She put down her half full cup of tea and tilted her head to the side. “Another bit of Shakespeare?” she questioned.
         I nodded.
         “It fits her well.” She smiled, and I soon followed. My mother had been the first to use it to describe her.
         After a moment, Élisabeth rose to her feet. “We should probably get back to the lesson,” she said.
          I looked at the vacant desk and then back at her. “Why don’t we stop for today?” I suggested and stood as well.
         “Are you sure?”          
         I went to the window and looked out onto the grounds. To the right was the garden, which, with the assortment of colors, drew one’s eye right to it. The hedges surrounding the stone courtyard had recently been  trimmed, but were still lush and healthy. Every tree was full and green, swaying gently back and forth with the light breeze. I could feel the heat of the sun on my face, even when I turned away from the window. “We have been blessed with good weather and should take advantage of it,” I said.
         “I agree,” she said with a grin. “Will you be joining me?”
         I hesitated and then glanced over my shoulder. If I didn’t join her outside, I was sure Rupert would quickly take that place. I couldn’t allow him to have another chance at Élisabeth. It was a shame that I could no longer trust my friend.
         “I believe,” I began, clearing my throat, “I will be.”
         Stiffly, I walked beside her out of the library and down the hall. When we were near the foyer, I could hear the creak of old wood and shoes on stairs. As soon as we entered, I caught a glimpse of Rupert’s dark curls.
         “Andre!” he called, pausing on the middle stair. His attention swept to Élisabeth and then back at me. He was wearing a rust colored jacket with dark pants, a copper vest, and matching tie. He held his black top hat between his long, pale fingers. “And Élisabeth! Have your lessons finished for the day?”
         “We were just about to go outside and enjoy the warm weather,” she replied.
         “Were you now?” His big, white teeth flashed at me as he took two more steps down.
         My eyes narrowed. I knew where he was taking this. He was waiting for an invitation to join us.
         When I noticed Élisabeth’s mouth opening to be polite and offer him to share in our walk, I took a step closer to her. “Yes,” I said. “And we should get to it now, shouldn’t we?” I quickly took her hand and placed it in the crook of my elbow. “Élisabeth, shall we?” I walked her around the staircase and down another slender hallway, my feet shuffling on the thick red carpet. 
         When I looked back into the foyer, I saw Rupert leaning over the banister and waving his hat as if he were waving a ship off to sea. “Au revoir!” he said, laughing. “Enjoy the weather!”
         I opened the back door that led to the courtyard and Élisabeth and I took a step back as the white light struck us. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. When they finally adjusted, I led her into the courtyard.
         The spring heat left warm kisses on my cheeks. Enjoying the feel of it, I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. I could feel the chill even as it traveled down my throat and filled my lungs. I opened my eyes again and took in the beauty of my property. The circle fountain in the center of the courtyard had been turned on, flowing sparkling blue water from the spout and into the small pool underneath it. Small red chest sparrows hopped along the edge. Every so often one would dive into the water and then back out to shake off its feathers.
         Our arms still linked, we drifted to the fountain and walked around it. I watched as Élisabeth reached out her hand and touched the trickling water. The little birds waddled away from her hand, and when she retracted it, they came closer to us again. She smiled.
         “It’s such a beautiful day,” she said softly.
         The sound of her voice and the high chirping of the sparrows reminded me that I was alone with Élisabeth and that she was holding the inside of my elbow in a feather-like grip. I swallowed, trying to suppress the jittering in my stomach.
         “It is,” I said. Trying not to meet her eye for too long, I looked at the garden to my right. I could see the heart of it from where I stood, and noticed that the vine-covered iron arch was beginning to bloom small yellow honeysuckle flowers. All around the bench below it, bushes of white roses were thriving. I thought of the vase of roses and honeysuckles in the center of the dining room table.
         “Are you excited for the horserace tomorrow?” Élisabeth asked.
         When I looked back at her, she was staring up at me. In her eyes, I could see the reflection of the swaying treetops and passing clouds. “I wouldn’t say I was excited.” I could suddenly feel the heat of the air even more than before. Above my brow, perspiration coated and dripped down the curve of my nose. I took out my handkerchief from my breast pocket, dabbed at the moisture, and stuffed it back in place.
         “Oh, and why not?”
         I felt her hold on my arm tighten a little, and I hesitated. “Er- I have never been interested in the sport honestly,” I said.
         She shook her head. “I don’t know much about it. I do enjoy horses though.”
         “You do?”
         “Why yes. They are magnificent animals. My family owned an old mare to help with the farm. My sister and I were quite fond of her. Brigitte actually named her…” She rolled her eyes to the sky as if she had known what they were reflecting. “Milly was her name. Old Milly.”
         Even though I predicted what her answer would be, I decided to ask anyway. “What happed to Old Milly?”
         She sighed, still searching the sky. “We sold her one winter when money was difficult,” she said plainly. “We did what we had to.” Her gaze fell back to me. “Now I only wish I had had a chance to ride her before we sold her.”
          “We have a few horses in the stable.” The words tumbled from my mouth before I could stop them.
         She gasped.  “Do you really?”
         My mouth was dry and chalky. I tried to swallow but there was still no liquid on my tongue. “They are meant to pull the carriages though,” I said. “I have never ridden one.”
         “May I see them?”
         “Er—” I ran a finger between my high collar and skin, feeling the dampness there. My arm felt weighty and the place where her hand laid prickled with heat. “Maybe another time…”
         She studied me, her eyes jumping from my lips to my own eyes.
         “It is a bit humid out, isn’t it?” Élisabeth said as she shielded her eyes with a gloved hand. When I did not respond, she looked away. More color appeared on her cheeks, and I noticed a few freckles there as well, hidden behind the blush. After a moment, she said softly, “Maybe we should go back inside.”
         “Inside? Yes, inside.” My arms dropped to my sides. As soon as the connection was gone, the heat was lost as well. I suddenly felt cold and hollow. I cursed myself silently, regretting the choice. I held my clenched fists behind my back. “Perhaps that would be best.”
         She cupped her hands together and bit her bottom lip.
         Why had I caused such discomfort between us? I inhaled deeply through my nose and let it escape through my slightly parted lips. “Soon,” I mumbled.
         “Excuse me?”
         “I will show you the stables someday…soon,” I said. I heard the promise behind my words and wondered if it was the best thing to have done.
         She grinned.
         “How about an iced drink?” I added, looking over my shoulder at the house. “Would you care for one?”
         “I would love one,” she said. A breeze brushed passed us, teasing the dark locks around her face. She then held out her hand toward me, palm facing up.
         I stared at the beaded silk for a moment, unmoving. My gaze traveled from her slender fingers to her still bright, smiling face. Rupert wouldn’t be hesitating if he was standing here alone with Élisabeth. He would be acting or saying something witty. Why was it easier for him than it was for me?
         I drew in a deep, trembling breath, stepped toward her, and offered my arm once again. She looked at me and her face warmed. Together, we strolled back to the house.