This will probably be the last post of "A New Era," for it is likely I will change the title very soon.
Excitations
Amelia
Rose
“The
Lord’s hand,” the minister recited, “is in all things.”
The
lady listened to the sermon aglow with delight. Excitement and anticipation
bounced around her mind like bunnies on Easter. She kept her eyes fixed on the
minister’s kind face, for if she dared turn her head either to the right or to
the left, she was sure that she would burst into a fit of giggles, disrupting
the entire congregation.
Her
youngest sister, however, could not keep such focus. Out of the corner of the
lady’s eye, she glimpsed her sister gazing across the chapel. She felt a prod
in her side by her sister’s elbow and made to silence her with a stern look of
disapprobation. But when she looked over finding her sister’s wry smile, the
lady’s concentration broke down and across her face broke out her own happy
grin. Her sister motioned across the pews, and the lady could not help turning
her gaze in the direction of her sister’s gesture.
At
once her heart leaped and butterflies danced inside herself. Across the pews
sat the object of the excitement: a handsome man in a fine ebony suit. To her sister
he offered a nod of appreciation, and catching the lady’s eye he winked and
whispered something she would not comprehend. To her amazement he stuck out his
tongue and winked again.
Quickly
she averted her gaze from him, looking around to see if anyone had noticed his
inappropriate behavior. In the pew behind her an old man was snoring quietly
and in the pew beside her a young mother was fussing with her children. A sigh
of relief filled her breath and at once she looked back at the gentleman in the
ebony suit with a sharp look of reproof. He would not take her seriously
however, for he rolled his eyes and wiggled his ears causing her to smile yet
again.
No
other avenue of escape presented itself. Fearing her emotions would betray her,
the lady once again attempted to fix her concentration on the minister’s
message, this time ignoring the impertinent prods from her sister and the
capricious winks from the gentleman. If no one else could maintain propriety,
surely she could.
The
minister’s message was a good one. He spoke of the ancient prophets of the Old
Testament, faith in the Christ of the New Testament, and the power of hope in
our lives today. As he spoke, the lady felt a sort of peace entering into her
heart, sending away her jitters.
The
minister concluded saying, “We must look towards the future with trust in His
guidance. We must see the blessings that have blossomed from the trials of our
past. We must embrace the present, rejoicing in the works of His hands. We must
always have courage to press forward with an eye single to His glory.”
Those
last words struck her powerfully. The lady felt as if the minister was speaking
directly to her. Perhaps in fact, he was. In three days time she would be up at
that very pulpit, the eyes of the entire congregation on her, gathering up the
courage to begin a new chapter in her life. The man in the ebony suit would be
there with her. He would take her hand, they would utter a few beautiful words,
and their fates would be linked together for a lifetime.
Caught
up in her blissful thoughts the lady did not notice the meeting’s end, nor the
spark of life that flickered in the small chapel as congregation members began
shuffling over to greet old friends. She was aroused from her thoughts by a
light brush on her hand, which startled her. Looking up she smiled at the
gentleman before her. His ebony suit glimmered elegantly in the sunlight
streaming through the windows and for a moment he seemed to glow like an angel
before her.
He
approached and offered her his arm. She stood, accepting it. Their gaze met,
his eyes penetrating hers with warm enthusiasm. She smiled and laughed for no
reason except delight in his smile. He took the opportunity to wink again
causing her already-wide grin to widen a bit more.
“My
dear Sir Elsey, you must know that winking in church is not considered reverent
in most civilized societies,” the lady teased.
“Certainly,
miss,” the gentleman replied seriously. “If I see anyone attempting such
heresy, I will inform the Reverend at once, that he may stop such insolent
conduct and put them in their place. As for myself I do have some dreadful
speck in my eye, which I cannot seem to remove. Might you help me investigate,
miss?” And he winked again.
She
laughed and pushed him away a bit, her sparkling eyes never leaving his. A
moment later, her gentleman was summoned to speak to an older gentleman two
pews back. An elderly woman who had known the lady’s family for many years took
the opportunity to accost the young lady with felicitations and warm wishes for her future.
“He
certainly is a playful fellow, is he not?” the old woman remarked with a
knowing grin. So someone had seen his irreverent conduct. The lady blushed,
embarrassed at such overt displays of affection. “Oh, you must enjoy it while
you can dear,” the woman intimated pleasantly. “The bliss of youth, the
wonderment of young love fades ever so quickly once the ring is won.” The woman
chuckled at the lady’s abashed countenance. “Do not worry yourself dear, I was
only teasing. You are a splendid young woman and he is as fine a match as ever
I did see. You have done well my dear. I’m sure a lifetime of happiness awaits
you both.” The lady offered sincere thanks and a warm smile, and at that, the woman
dismissed herself and was lost in the crowd.
The
gentleman returned as the chapel cleared. He found the lady and together they
joined her father, mother and younger sister on an enjoyable ride back to Le Parc. It was a beautiful day in early
summer, full of warm sunshine and happy sentiments. The family made the most of
their day of rest with the knowledge that the coming week would try their
spirits and their hearts as they let go of one more daughter to pursue her
future as a married woman.
The
next two days went by in a whirl. There seemed to be an endless list of
preparations to be done, and the maison
was in constant flux with visitors, relatives, servants and the like all coming
and going at once. The lady was very glad her gentleman had been able to dine
with them Sunday, because she had not seen him since. Nor had she a moment to
herself.
The
evening before the wedding the lady finally stole a moment’s peace. The
visitors were gone, the servants retired to their quarters, with the family
resting and chatting pleasantly in the salon.
The lady soon excused herself; her family did not try to stop her. It had been
an exhausting few days for all and they were glad to let her have some time to
herself.
She
wandered around the corridors of the grand maison,
her childhood home. As she did thoughts of giddy happiness welled up in her
mind. At long last she had found a gentleman suited to her.
After
her travels around the world had finished she had returned to the maison. Her family welcomed her back
graciously and the people of – shire had honored her like a duchess or queen.
Her artwork had brought such fame and prestige to their little town, they knew
not what to do with it. After the lady’s return, many visitors of high society
came to see her; a few of them even took up residence nearby. This time she did
not deny them company. While a day never passed where she didn’t think of the
gentleman she once loved, her travels had taught her to open her heart to new
experiences and new friends.
As
– shire gained more prominence and more dignified people came to reside there,
new business opportunities opened up also. This is what had first brought Sir
Elsey to – shire. He came from a family of nobles not far distant from the
Queen herself. He had long owned the land of – shire. With the influx of new
visitors, inns, shops and other enterprises had been built on his lands. With
so much new interest in his property, the gentleman had relocated to – shire in
order to better manage his affairs.
The
lady had been introduced to the gentleman Sir Elsey at one of her art
exhibitions. In her absence, her family had transformed her studio into a grand
gallery. There the exhibition had been a marvelous event with many admirers and
influent persons in attendance. Yet none had admired her work so much as had
Sir Elsey.
“My
lady,” said he, “you have a gift beyond mortal powers. Your beautiful work has
been recommended to me by a most influential Madame de LaReine and I am most
honored to make your acquaintance.”
The
lady received his compliments most gladly. Weeks passed and Sir Elsey had
frequented the lady’s salon most
intently. He was older then her, as was to be expected of a man of his
situation and stature. Indeed, a few gray streaks ran through his hair, but
this did not seem to dim his love for life, nor the youthful countenance with
which he carried himself.
She
had found him to be elegant, sincere and dignified. If there was one flaw in
his character, the lady had thought, it might be his playful sense of humor. He
seemed to take great pleasure in being able to make her laugh, even at the
expense of propriety. Nevertheless, laugh she did, and they enjoyed each
other’s company immensely. She had come to trust his opinion as generous, yet
frank which suited her and her artwork. He was not an artist himself, but he
had a good eye for the aesthetic. Thus, with her talent and his eye they never
went for want of subject in their conversations, which often ran long into the
evenings.
It
had not taken long for the lady to admire him. Nay in a short matter of time
the lady could confidently say that she loved him. Nevertheless she could not
be sure of his affections for her, and so the only one to whom she admitted
such feelings was her parrot friend. He listened patiently, but he was getting
old, so he rarely responded anymore. She missed his silly squawks and phrases
that had once agitated her so.
Then
one day the gentleman had come with news. He was to be taken from – shire for
the winter and would return the following spring. The news shocked the lady and
her family, who had been anticipating an offer soon. The following months waned
quite lonesome for the lady. Yet with her family’s company and many visits from
friends, she managed to keep up her spirits well. She dedicated the time of her
gentleman’s absence in completing the series of dessins devoted to her parrot. She drew him in his youth and she
drew him in his age. In some dessins
her friend was animated and lively, in some quiet or sleeping.
In
one inspired dessin she had managed
to capture the radiance of the parrot suspended in flight. Those to whom she
showed this image remarked that surely this had been more than a drawing. In it
the parrot seemed to possess mystical qualities of radiance and grace more
befitting to a dove than a parrot, or at least so said her spectators. She,
however, knew no dove could compare with his bright, colorful feathers and
amiable personality. In the dessin, his
blue-feathered wings grazed the light, which streamed through a half-closed fenêtre. The sunlight sparkled on the
bright rouge feathers of his cou, bringing out their natural hue. He
seemed to be heading past the window, towards the other side of the room, but
on further inspection one could tell he had just changed course and was now
flying towards it. “Would he fly out of it?” everyone would ask. “It is up to
the viewer,” the lady would reply simply.
She
had just completed these dessins in
time for Sir Elsey’s return. One morning, about a week before his arrival, a
maid had entered the gallery to find the poor parrot lifeless on the very
window ledge the lady had depicted in her dessin.
The parrot had gotten himself out of his cage and had used his last moments of
life to watch the beautiful sunrise beyond the fenêtre. He had not flown out of it.
At
the time, the lady had assumed she was finished with her parrot’s art series,
and yet she found herself creating one more dessin,
thus crystallizing the memory of her dear friend in his final act of beautiful
triumph. Once she was finished with the last dessin, she wished him farewell with a single parting tear.
This
was the image in front of which the lady now found herself. In her present wanderings,
she had managed to end up in her gallery gazing at all of the dessins to which she had poured out her
heart. As she gazed at the dessin of
her parrot’s lifeless body made holy by the sunrise, she could almost see his
spirit ascending up towards heaven. Another silent tear slid down her cheek.
“Why
did you not fly away?” she wondered aloud. And yet, she felt already she knew
the answer in her heart. She felt that she had known it for a long time.
By
March, Sir Elsey had returned. Soon after his arrival, he had made an offer of
marriage to which the lady did not decline. This came to the great rejoicing
and relief of the lady’s family. Preparations had begun immediately, and now in
early May, the fruits of their labors were being realized. On the morrow the
entire town as well as visitors from far and wide would be in attendance to the
highly esteemed wedding of two exceptional individuals. There were even rumors
that the Queen herself would be present. The lady did not think much veracity
belonged this rumor, for even if Sir Elsey was a distant cousin of the Queen,
she could not believe herself to be of such import as to merit such a dignified
visit. Nevertheless she had met some very important people before, and so she
would do her best to make all perfect for whomever should arrive for the
ceremonies to morrow.
As
she now stood in her gallery gazing at her artwork, she felt glad. Her wedding
was to morrow, she realized. And, as the elderly lady had said in church, it
was a good match. A very good match. She loved this very fine gentlemen and he
loved her in return. The happiness
they inspired in each other had not a comparison in all the rich company to
which she had been a part. He would make her a good and faithful companion and
a husband well worth her love. This was good. This was right.
And
yet, inside, something tugged at the cockles of her heart. Somewhere deep
inside, in a corner of her heart she had forgotten existed, lived a pang
of…what was it? It was not sorrow, nor regret, nor remorse. Nor was her heart
broken any longer. It had been repaired and revived and was all the stronger
for it. She was ready to press forward, as the minister had said, with an eye
single to the glory of God. She was ready to begin this new chapter of her life
with this good man of whom she was so fond. So what was this feeling tugging at
the corners of her heart? Why did it appear now, on the day before her own
happy wedding? It came back stronger as she again gazed at the dessin of her lifeless parrot sitting
peacefully at the window. His final resting place, she realized with a smile.
She
could not understand what her heart was trying to tell her and so she dismissed
it. Not withstanding the beautiful artwork on the wall, she no longer had a
parrot there to remind her, “Suivez votre
coeur!” Anyway, she thought, it was getting late and she had a big day tomorrow
and she needed her rest.
She
went to the corner of the room to extinguish the candelabra, which stood giving
light to the room and its contents. As she went to extinguish the first candle,
a pencil lying on a small cabinet fell to the floor, knocked off by a swish of
the fabric from her gown. She bent to pick it up. As she did, she noticed the familiar
carvings on the small cabinet door. She gasped taking in a quick breath. She
knew this cabinet; she wondered if she still knew its contents. Her family had
rearranged everything during her three years’ absence, and with the studio
transformed into a grand art gallery, she had never much reason to spend time
in it, except to show her artwork to people. Along with the neatly organized dessins, furniture and other accessories
had been brought in to accommodate their guests. All of the lady’s unfinished sketches
had been relocated to another room, which then became her studio. She had never
guessed that they had left this old, worn cabinet amidst the grand furniture and
artwork of this room. Yet here in this dark corner it stood, apparently
untouched.
She
hesitated for a moment and then opened the cabinet. Surely enough, on the first
shelf lay an old, yellowed piece of parchment. The cabinet contained nothing
else. She gingerly took it, unfolding it with the greatest care. She knew what
it contained, and yet she was not fully prepared as the color and vibrancy of
the horse and its rider radiated from the page and into her heart. Even in the
candlelight, the rider sparkled in his wild candor as the wind whipped the
horse’s main and the autumn leaves whisked around his face.
The
lady found herself weeping now. She wept with abandon, and if anyone had
entered the room, she would not have noticed. She could not articulate the
reason for her tears, but she was beginning to comprehend the strange feelings
in her heart that she had so readily dismissed a moment ago.
She
thought of Sir Elsey. She loved him dearly and knew that love was real and true
and right. And yet as she gazed at the dessin,
she knew that her heart was not fully his, nor could it ever be. With sadness,
she realized that there would always be a piece of her heart which belonged to
the keeper of this horse and its rider. At this thought tears recommenced to
flood her eyes.
She
wept for a long while; she did not know how long. At long last, when shadows
had completely covered the last of the light, she gathered herself together and
arose from the floor where she had lain and wept so freely. She snuffed the
waiting candles that were little more than wicks by then and moved through the
shadows towards the door of the gallery. She gingerly folded the parchment
back, slid it in her pocket and retired to her chambre. As she left her gallery she glanced back one last time over
her shoulder.
Tomorrow
another maison would be her home. In
this place she would be a visitor.
In
the dark corridor, she smiled, one last tear trickling down her cheek. Having finally
understood her heart, she was now ready to embrace her destiny.
