Read Online When the Splendor Falls by Laurie McBain - Free Book Online Page A

first couple of weeks, Blythe had known a certain consternation when her sister had used French phrases when asking for potatoes at the dinner table, but their mother had been delighted. Leigh had even declined to play croquet on the lawn in favor of reading a book, An Essay …or something equally dull, Blythe remembered with a grimace, and then her sister had made an incredible fuss over the childish bodice of one of her favorite gowns, which had sent their father into an ominous silence when he’d seen the new cut of the décolletage of Leigh’s once modest blue gown.
    But last week, when Leigh had grabbed a sweet roll on her way out the door, unable to linger for a proper breakfast in her haste for a ride across country with Guy, and Saturday last, when she’d stayed up until well past midnight helping with a difficult breech delivery of a foal, and this morning, when she’d suggested they go blackberry picking, Blythe had known that her sister’s sojourn in Charleston had not had any damaging effects.
    “Oh, la dee, but this is nice,” Julia murmured as the cart rolled toward a sun-dappled creek, shaded by hemlocks and sycamores that beckoned the three girls with its soft murmuring into the cool shadows of the glade. “We can have our picnic over there,” Julia directed as the cart came to a halt in the shade of a tall sycamore. To their right, and indeed the perfect spot for a picnic, was a gentle rise of bank carpeted with meadow-sweet grasses and wildflowers, the overhanging boughs of one of the hemlocks creating a natural canopy above their heads.
    “I am absolutely parched,” Julia said with a dramatic sigh. Climbing down from the cart, she had no idea of the comical figure she appeared as she tried to gather her billowing skirts and stiff crinoline, keep her parasol shading her delicate complexion, the basket of stuffed eggs and sponge cake from tipping its contents, and all the while maintain her ladylike dignity as she blindly searched for a safe footing on the uneven ground. And it proved no easy feat, for by the time Julia had stepped away from the cart, she was flustered and out of breath from the effort, her fancy bonnet askew, and a delicate strand of pale blond hair dangling untidily across her cheek.
    “I hope Jolie remembered to pack a refreshment, Leigh,” Julia said faintly, eyeing the cool waters of the stream with little interest.
    “Lemonade,” Blythe told her cheerfully, jumping down from the cart with annoying ease and grace, her long, dark brown hair tied with a satin bow and swinging freely around her shoulders. Her saucer-shaped straw bonnet was tipped at a rakish angle and seemed to mirror her gaiety. Ignoring Julia’s sniff of superiority—after all, there were certain discomforts a lady had to suffer to be fashionable—she squeezed past the voluminous skirts threatening to wrap themselves around the tree. Her own layered petticoats were far more practical for blackberry picking than wearing a crinoline, but Julia had seemed doubtful of Leigh’s suggestion to take off her crinoline and leave it in their bedchamber at Travers Hill. She had also refused to borrow one of Leigh’s old muslins, obviously believing she would encounter one of her hearty sea captains strolling through the woods. Blythe smothered a laugh at the thought of encountering a ship under full sail entangled in the honeysuckle and quickly set the basket down, but her hazel eyes twinkled with humor as she spread out a quilt snatched from the linen closet. The fragrance of lavender and roses still clung to the soft folds; delicate aromatic sachets, prepared by their mother’s own hand, scented all of the linens at Travers Hill.
    “Shall we eat first, or look for berries?” Leigh inquired, unhitching the pony from the cart and sending him with an affectionate pat on his rump into the meadow to graze with the mare and the colt.
    “Eat!” Julia said with unladylike vigor. “Well, at least I believe we will