Nevermore: 2nd Draft, Chapter Two
Fentworth Estate, 1890
Four days had passed since Susannah had informed Desiree that she would be attending Salem Institute. During the past four days, Desiree had been seething. She could not believe that her aunts had gone behind her back, and she could not believe that her father agreed to what they had proposed! She had thought that her father and her aunts didn’t get along, but she must have been misled in that assumption, for now that seemed the farthest thing from the truth. Arms crossed petulantly over her chest, Desiree sat in the study with Aunt Susannah, a frown marring her youthful features as her aunt worked on something. She didn’t know what, because when she had asked Aunt Susannah had refused to answer, instead just saying, “It is nothing of concern for you Desiree, although your concern is appreciated”.
Desiree had wanted to scoff. In no way was she “concerned”, she was merely curious and those were two completely different things. Desiree watched irritably as Susannah signed her name with a flourish on one of the documents, and moved on to penning something else. As if sensing her niece’s gaze on her form, Susannah looked up her trademark genteel smile on her face and a kind light in her eyes.
“Is there something that you need Desiree?” Susannah questioned.
“Is it necessary for me to be in here?” Desiree asked, jutting her chin out stubbornly. “I am not doing anything productive, and my time could be spent doing other things.”
“Are you certain? What pray tell, could you be doing?” Her cheeks flushing in mortification, Desiree refused to answer, and Susannah chuckled. “My apologies, Desiree. However, Lucretia is attending to business in the house, and emphasized that you would be in here with me while she entertains our guests.” Seeing how that did not sway her niece, Susannah sighed. “If you would like to, you may read any of the books located in here,” she offered.
That softened Desiree’s countenance marginally, and she stood wandering over to one of the bookcases, her eyes roving over the titles of the books eagerly. However, her mind was focused on anything but the books. Selecting a title randomly, Desiree wandered back over to the plush settee, opening the book and laying it on her lip. But her mind was whirling with thoughts about who Lucretia could possibly be entertaining. Her aunts weren’t ones to entertain guests, that had been more of her mother’s specialty as her mother had been the perfect blend of the two contrasting personalities of the elder Fentworth sisters.
The last, she had been aware, her aunts had been reclusive and while they had acquaintances they never entertained and only saw said acquaintances at other social gatherings. That they were entertaining guests now, was odd to her. She couldn’t fathom who it would possibly be either. Her lips tugged down into a frown and she absentmindedly turned the page in the book, her eyes narrowing as she pondered the matter further.
The sound of the pen scratching on parchment halted, and Desiree looked up curiously, to find Susannah staring at her with an amused smile on her lips. “You appear distracted,” Susannah noted.
Desiree felt her cheeks flush, but didn’t acknowledge it. “I am merely perplexed. Who could you possibly be hosting?”
Susannah colored slightly, dropping the pen onto the desk and averted her eyes. “They are family friends, Desiree, and don’t act as if it is so unusual for Lucretia and I to host guests. We have done it before and we will continue to do so until there comes a time when it is no longer possible.”
“Family friends?” Desiree repeated in confusion.
“Yes, family friends,” Susannah said promptly her tone brokering finality.
Desiree wanted to ask more questions, and further pursue the subject, however sensing that the subject was considered close she kept her mouth shut and devoted her attention to the dull book detailing how to properly sew clothing. Hours passed and not once did Desiree leave the study. It was when the clock began to chime for five, that Susannah finally stood up and informed Desiree that she could leave. Exhaling in relief, she rushed to put the book back on the bookcase, and then followed Susannah out to the parlor where Lucretia was standing talking with their guests. From behind Susannah, it was difficult to see anything of their mysterious visitors and while she would have stood on her tiptoes to try to gain a better view, she restrained herself reminding herself that that kind of behavior would not be ladylike and if these guests were prominent members in society, she shouldn’t embarrass herself.
Lucretia twisted her eyes landing on Susannah and then Desiree who shrunk back, expecting her aunt to be angry because Susannah had told her that Lucretia didn’t want Desiree around while their guests were there. But much to her surprise, Lucretia beamed, beckoning Desiree forward. Hesitantly Desiree stepped forward from behind Susannah, approaching her aunt. Twisting her body to face the guests Desiree pasted a smile on her face which felt forced and faked as Lucretia introduced her to the two guests.
The first, was a man looking to be in his early forties, with graying hair and dark eyes. He was tall, but his hands clutched at a walking stick so hard that his knuckles were white, and it appeared as if it was taking all of his strength to stand there which was indicative by the gray pallor of his skin. At his side was a boy, considerably his junior, whose appearance shocked Desiree into a stunned stupor.
He was beautiful – in a roguishly handsome sort of way. Contrary to the noble appearance of the elder man, this boy was rough edges and had a charm about him that was very reminiscent of a vagabond. He looked a few years older than Desiree herself, and his eyes were of the same dark color as the man’s, bordering on black, and his hair was nearly the same shade. His plump lips curled into a smirk as Desiree’s staring became noticeable, and she noticed that he had dimples. Hearing a snort of laughter from him, she quickly looked away from him and toward Lucretia her cheeks burning.
“Desiree, these are our esteemed guests Michael Lovelace and his nephew Percival Maris,” Lucretia said introducing Desiree to the mysterious guests that she knew nothing about. The last name of Lovelace was vaguely familiar, but Desiree couldn’t recall where she had heard it before. “Percival is an alumnus of Salem Institute.”
“Interesting,” Desiree murmured, her eyes darting toward Percival who was watching her with an arrogant smile on his face. “And how was the school, Mr. Maris?”
“Phenomenal,” he answered, and if she wasn’t mistaken Desiree thought she heard the first vestiges of sarcasm in his voice. “Of course, the school isn’t for everyone Miss Cersei, but I am sure that someone of your stature would be able to handle it.”
Desiree hummed noncommittally, neither confirming nor denying his statement. Mr. Lovelace coughed seemingly uncomfortable, but the cough soon dissolved into hacking, as he bent over at the waist. Percival moved to his side, putting an arm around his uncle’s waist in a bid to support him and keep him upright.
Once he was done coughing Mr. Lovelace began speaking as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “I do hope we will be seeing you at Salem Institute,” he said with a genial smile that Desiree couldn’t help but to return.
“Perhaps,” she murmured. Her brows furrowed, “Pardon, what do you mean by ‘we’?”
“I am a teacher at the school, and Percival will be continuing his education at the school on a college level,” Mr. Lovelace swiftly answered.
Lucretia jumped into the conversation, “Excellent. I am sure, Desiree will be delighted to already have made an acquaintance, that goes to the same school she will be attending.”
She aimed a not so discreet look Desiree’s way, and the girl echoed the sentiment much less enthusiastically than her aunt had hoped, however the flattery had been convincing enough for Mr. Lovelace who preened and bidding the ladies adieu made a swift exit from the manor with Percival following him at a considerably slower pace.
“I will be attending Salem Institute then,” Desiree murmured her voice devoid of any emotion. “I do not have a choice.”
“No,” Lucretia replied, “you do not. You needn’t fear anything, however Desiree, Salem Institute is a wonderful school and will surely give you the best education that a girl of your social standing could hope for.”
Desiree didn’t answer. Growing pensive, she withdrew to her room without so much as a goodnight to her aunts and without even eating supper. These guests were a way to ensure that she would be at a good position when she would eventually attend Salem Institute, and perhaps as a way to persuade her or make sure that she would not be able to back out. Not now that a teacher knew who she was.