Read Online She Walks in Beauty by Siri Mitchell - Free Book Online
Authors: Siri Mitchell
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table.
“Now!”
I did as she ordered, fearing still that at any moment I might be scolded. But I was not. She simply began to turn one of the gloves in upon itself until the openings to the fingers were displayed. Then she fit the glove over each of my fingers in turn. She jammed my elbow into the table with the effort it required to pull the glove on over them. But she was not done yet. She had not fit my thumb into it. “Brace yourself.”
“Pardon me?”
“Brace yourself! With a hand to the knee.”
With those words the struggle began. Eventually, after some moments of tugging and wrenching, the feat was accomplished. Aunt waved the maid toward me so that the gloves could be buttoned. Then she stood back, panting, hand at her chest. “It will go easier the next time.”
I hoped so. I’d lost all feeling in my thumb. “I can hardly move my fingers.”
“I know it. But see how nicely your hand is cupped? Doesn’t it look much smaller?”
It was. It did. But was it worth such discomfort?
I descended the stairs behind Aunt at a sedate pace.
Upon reaching the first floor, Father thrust a bouquet of white roses into my hands. “For the fairest of them all.”
I blushed at his compliment.
“Remember, my dear, that you’re a Carter and deserving of the very best of them.”
Aunt crooked her arm through my own. “And that would be the De Vries heir.”
At the new hallstand’s mirror, Aunt paused to make an adjustment to her hair. Her mauve cuffs looked unfamiliar against the black of her gown. But for now jet earrings still dangled from her ears and her hair was still covered with its lacey widow’s cap.
After she was done prodding and poking, we walked into the parlor together.
Pillows in profusion dotted the furniture. Lamps, not content with their own lampshades, had been draped with lace and trailing fringe. A collection of family miniatures and fans decorated the shelves. Rugs upon rugs covered the floor. Mirrors reflected back myriad statues and figurines. And bows adorned the chairs. All but one.
All but our revolutionary relic.
That chair sat amongst the others, devoid of any ornamentation. Proud in its rude form, it proclaimed to any who saw it that the Carter family had some connection to our nation’s valiant past.
Elsewhere, vases frothed feathers. The desk was embellished with a scarf, as were the piano and the curio cabinet. Mama’s collection of bells had been polished and now gleamed bright as stars. The brocade curtains had been drawn back to expose the sheer lace curtains behind them. As light filtered through their web, it translated the pattern into a series of bars upon the floor.
In the dining room, the table had been laid in lace and the tea set placed in the middle. In addition to a cup for cream and a bowl for sugar, there were all kinds of cold meats, a tiered silver server filled with tea cakes and another filled with muffins. A pyramid of hothouse strawberries. Sparkling crystal pots filled with jellies and tiny china cups of custards. And among all the implements and dishes had been placed nosegays of cut flowers of the most spectacular varieties.
At four o’clock, the first guest arrived. And after that first one, they came in droves. Lizzie and her mother among them. Aunt sneered when she saw Lizzie and her mother. “No doubt trolling for information for Lizzie’s tea.”
“Lizzie’s having a tea?”
“Of course she’s having a tea. Next Monday. At Sherry’s restaurant .”
A restaurant! Lizzie must be wild with excitement. There was nothing grander than a restaurant. And to hold a tea at one!
Aunt sniffed. “Sherry’s. If it must be done at a restaurant, Delmonico’s is the only place to do it; he knows the worth of old money. Besides, there was a time when every decent sort of person received guests into his own house, not at a restaurant like some itinerant vagabond. What is it, I wonder, that they’re trying to hide?”
I fluttered my fan
“Now!”
I did as she ordered, fearing still that at any moment I might be scolded. But I was not. She simply began to turn one of the gloves in upon itself until the openings to the fingers were displayed. Then she fit the glove over each of my fingers in turn. She jammed my elbow into the table with the effort it required to pull the glove on over them. But she was not done yet. She had not fit my thumb into it. “Brace yourself.”
“Pardon me?”
“Brace yourself! With a hand to the knee.”
With those words the struggle began. Eventually, after some moments of tugging and wrenching, the feat was accomplished. Aunt waved the maid toward me so that the gloves could be buttoned. Then she stood back, panting, hand at her chest. “It will go easier the next time.”
I hoped so. I’d lost all feeling in my thumb. “I can hardly move my fingers.”
“I know it. But see how nicely your hand is cupped? Doesn’t it look much smaller?”
It was. It did. But was it worth such discomfort?
I descended the stairs behind Aunt at a sedate pace.
Upon reaching the first floor, Father thrust a bouquet of white roses into my hands. “For the fairest of them all.”
I blushed at his compliment.
“Remember, my dear, that you’re a Carter and deserving of the very best of them.”
Aunt crooked her arm through my own. “And that would be the De Vries heir.”
At the new hallstand’s mirror, Aunt paused to make an adjustment to her hair. Her mauve cuffs looked unfamiliar against the black of her gown. But for now jet earrings still dangled from her ears and her hair was still covered with its lacey widow’s cap.
After she was done prodding and poking, we walked into the parlor together.
Pillows in profusion dotted the furniture. Lamps, not content with their own lampshades, had been draped with lace and trailing fringe. A collection of family miniatures and fans decorated the shelves. Rugs upon rugs covered the floor. Mirrors reflected back myriad statues and figurines. And bows adorned the chairs. All but one.
All but our revolutionary relic.
That chair sat amongst the others, devoid of any ornamentation. Proud in its rude form, it proclaimed to any who saw it that the Carter family had some connection to our nation’s valiant past.
Elsewhere, vases frothed feathers. The desk was embellished with a scarf, as were the piano and the curio cabinet. Mama’s collection of bells had been polished and now gleamed bright as stars. The brocade curtains had been drawn back to expose the sheer lace curtains behind them. As light filtered through their web, it translated the pattern into a series of bars upon the floor.
In the dining room, the table had been laid in lace and the tea set placed in the middle. In addition to a cup for cream and a bowl for sugar, there were all kinds of cold meats, a tiered silver server filled with tea cakes and another filled with muffins. A pyramid of hothouse strawberries. Sparkling crystal pots filled with jellies and tiny china cups of custards. And among all the implements and dishes had been placed nosegays of cut flowers of the most spectacular varieties.
At four o’clock, the first guest arrived. And after that first one, they came in droves. Lizzie and her mother among them. Aunt sneered when she saw Lizzie and her mother. “No doubt trolling for information for Lizzie’s tea.”
“Lizzie’s having a tea?”
“Of course she’s having a tea. Next Monday. At Sherry’s restaurant .”
A restaurant! Lizzie must be wild with excitement. There was nothing grander than a restaurant. And to hold a tea at one!
Aunt sniffed. “Sherry’s. If it must be done at a restaurant, Delmonico’s is the only place to do it; he knows the worth of old money. Besides, there was a time when every decent sort of person received guests into his own house, not at a restaurant like some itinerant vagabond. What is it, I wonder, that they’re trying to hide?”
I fluttered my fan
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