I
refuse? It’s not every day a man has the honor of escorting such
lovely ladies.”
Though he beamed at them both, Edith
soon monopolized his attention. Gwen found it positively sickening,
the way her cousin simpered up at him, and any other time, and
she’d have taken it as a challenge. Today, she felt to warm and
worn and irritable to flirt with anyone.
It was the heat, she told herself.
After the cool, bracing weather of Boston. It would take time to
adjust to the enervating stupor of the Louisiana sun. Once she had
her new clothes-an armoire full of Muslins and cottons-she would be
simpering, too.
The Willows, thought with a sigh as a
wave of homesickness washed over her. Her thoughts drifted back to
happier times, when mama was still alive. Oh, parties they had
been. The house had been lit up so many lanterns that their guests,
coming from all along the river, claimed the Willows beckoned like
a glittering palace.
Even the morning after, with the guests
all abed and the lamps extinguished, it’s had still seemed
fairytale castle to Gwen. With its stately lines and tall, graceful
columns, she’d always thought the Willows a home fit for a king. It
was her father’s domain, where mother was Queen, and Gwen would
forever remain their precious little Princess.
In her mind, she envisioned her
homecoming. It was too early for candles, but her clever daddy
found some way to mark the occasion as special. He’d be waiting on
the dock, tall and proud and eager as he watched her disembark, and
all the way to the house he’d regale her with his plans. There
would be a homecoming ball, of course, and with it a new dress of a
silk so fine and delicate, every girl from here to Baton Rouge
would faint from envy.
Upon it reaching the house, daddy would
clap his hands and the servants would surround and greet her, all
chattering at once. Smiling benevolently, daddy would order them to
take her trunks and led her upstairs for a rest before
dinner.
And for her first meal, they’d have
shrimp and crab gumbo, a dish Gwen had been hankering for ever
since leaving for Boston. My, but her taste buds were watering
already, just thinking about the amazing seafood there servants
packed into the dish. For desserts, they would bake berry pie, big
juicy fruit picked fresh from the garden.
Engulfed in her fantasy, Gwen failed to
realize they’d stopped at the Willows’ dock until Edith impatiently
pointed it out to her. “I declare Gwyneth,” he finished off, “you
can be quite the flightiest creature, when you’re in one of your
daydreams.”
She and Lance left, causing Gwen to
redden, but went on uncle Jervis stepped up to join them, Lance
instantly sober. Turning to Gwen, he offered his arm. “Perhaps I
best help you off the boat,” he said, flashing his most endearing
smile. “It’d be a crying shame to have our Gwen trip and hurt
herself on her first day home.”
Though miffed, Gwen took the support he
offered, finding herself grateful for it as they walked to the
house. There was no daddy standing on the dock; indeed, the dock
itself didn’t seem to be standing all that well. It must had taken
a beating in the last storm, why hadn’t the servants repaired it?
With yes soon arriving for her home coming ball, they couldn’t have
such a shoddy structure for landing. Why, the talk would live on
for weeks.
To her added dismay, the dock wasn’t
alone in showing wear. As they passed by the garden from which the
plantation got its name, she found mothers prized roses choked by
weeds. Clearly unintended for years, every bush was either dead or
in the process of dying.
Changes . On the heels of that thought, she recalled Mrs. Tibbs
warning about the hardships she’d have to bear. No, she insisted
silently, there were reasons for this neglect, and the instant she
saw her daddy, he would explain them. No doubt he become so
preoccupied with his plantation, he let parts of the plantation
slide, things mama used to
refuse? It’s not every day a man has the honor of escorting such
lovely ladies.”
Though he beamed at them both, Edith
soon monopolized his attention. Gwen found it positively sickening,
the way her cousin simpered up at him, and any other time, and
she’d have taken it as a challenge. Today, she felt to warm and
worn and irritable to flirt with anyone.
It was the heat, she told herself.
After the cool, bracing weather of Boston. It would take time to
adjust to the enervating stupor of the Louisiana sun. Once she had
her new clothes-an armoire full of Muslins and cottons-she would be
simpering, too.
The Willows, thought with a sigh as a
wave of homesickness washed over her. Her thoughts drifted back to
happier times, when mama was still alive. Oh, parties they had
been. The house had been lit up so many lanterns that their guests,
coming from all along the river, claimed the Willows beckoned like
a glittering palace.
Even the morning after, with the guests
all abed and the lamps extinguished, it’s had still seemed
fairytale castle to Gwen. With its stately lines and tall, graceful
columns, she’d always thought the Willows a home fit for a king. It
was her father’s domain, where mother was Queen, and Gwen would
forever remain their precious little Princess.
In her mind, she envisioned her
homecoming. It was too early for candles, but her clever daddy
found some way to mark the occasion as special. He’d be waiting on
the dock, tall and proud and eager as he watched her disembark, and
all the way to the house he’d regale her with his plans. There
would be a homecoming ball, of course, and with it a new dress of a
silk so fine and delicate, every girl from here to Baton Rouge
would faint from envy.
Upon it reaching the house, daddy would
clap his hands and the servants would surround and greet her, all
chattering at once. Smiling benevolently, daddy would order them to
take her trunks and led her upstairs for a rest before
dinner.
And for her first meal, they’d have
shrimp and crab gumbo, a dish Gwen had been hankering for ever
since leaving for Boston. My, but her taste buds were watering
already, just thinking about the amazing seafood there servants
packed into the dish. For desserts, they would bake berry pie, big
juicy fruit picked fresh from the garden.
Engulfed in her fantasy, Gwen failed to
realize they’d stopped at the Willows’ dock until Edith impatiently
pointed it out to her. “I declare Gwyneth,” he finished off, “you
can be quite the flightiest creature, when you’re in one of your
daydreams.”
She and Lance left, causing Gwen to
redden, but went on uncle Jervis stepped up to join them, Lance
instantly sober. Turning to Gwen, he offered his arm. “Perhaps I
best help you off the boat,” he said, flashing his most endearing
smile. “It’d be a crying shame to have our Gwen trip and hurt
herself on her first day home.”
Though miffed, Gwen took the support he
offered, finding herself grateful for it as they walked to the
house. There was no daddy standing on the dock; indeed, the dock
itself didn’t seem to be standing all that well. It must had taken
a beating in the last storm, why hadn’t the servants repaired it?
With yes soon arriving for her home coming ball, they couldn’t have
such a shoddy structure for landing. Why, the talk would live on
for weeks.
To her added dismay, the dock wasn’t
alone in showing wear. As they passed by the garden from which the
plantation got its name, she found mothers prized roses choked by
weeds. Clearly unintended for years, every bush was either dead or
in the process of dying.
Changes . On the heels of that thought, she recalled Mrs. Tibbs
warning about the hardships she’d have to bear. No, she insisted
silently, there were reasons for this neglect, and the instant she
saw her daddy, he would explain them. No doubt he become so
preoccupied with his plantation, he let parts of the plantation
slide, things mama used to
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