Lily sipped her tea gingerly. Though it was a cold blustery day, the scalding tea wasn't much of a comfort. The first sip had burnt her tongue so she could hardly taste it anymore. But she kept sipping. She thought it might calm her nerves. It did not.
She though sitting in Archie's garden might calm her nerves. It did not.
It seemed nothing was calming today. Not the smell of the roses or the company of her friend. Not the strange stillness that always laid in the garden. Nothing was calming. Not the chamomile tea or rubbing the silk upon her dress. Her heart beat quickly enough to make her think her chest was going to burst open at the seams. Perhaps it would be best if it did. At least then she wouldn't have to go.
"Lily, please don't break the china," Archibald Craven said with a light laugh.
She glanced down. Her knuckles were white from clutching the small, flowery tea cup.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, setting it down quickly. They'll hate me in society. I'm not graceful enough. I'm not lithe enough. I'm too nice. I bet they're all mean and judgmental. I'll say something kind and they'll cast me right out.
I'm not grown up enough.
But she was. She was seventeen, nearly eighteen and getting old by debutante standards. She was set to be presented last year, but Lily had been so terrified that she made herself sick and refused to go. Her parents had relented and let her wait a year, but her time had come. She was to enter society, find a husband, and secure a fortune. It's simple, they said. It's easy.
But it wasn't. Lily didn't want some rich, snotty husband. She didn't want to grow up and take care of a house for a man she hardly sees. Lily didn't want to be her mother. She wanted romance and adventure, like the women in stories. She wanted to, at least, like the man she was going to spend the rest of her days with. A friend would suffice. Maybe not love, but friendship. Something.
"Don't be nervous."
Lily scoffed, "Oh, thanks, Archie. My nerves are cured!" She gasped, "Damn, I just used sarcasm…and I just swore," she rolled her head back, "They're going to hate me in London!"
Archie laughed a laugh that warmed the cool air, "It would be impossible to hate you, Lily."
"You're just being kind," Lily shook her head. "But thank you."
"And I'll be there too," he added. "So you won't be alone."
Lily nodded, "Yes, but it's different for the women. The prod us around like prize horses at the derby. The men just stand there and take lots."
"You're making it sound so dehumanizing."
"Because it is!" She nearly shrieked. Archibald raised one of his dark brows and she soon laughed. "Sorry, you know I'm terrible with nerves."
The cool wind whistled through the tall hedges, making a calm rustling sound. The grey clouds above them moved quickly, warning of rain to come. Lily sipped her tea. It wasn't that hot anymore, but she didn't care. The flowery water brushed past her lips and slipped into her stomach, filling the emptiness there. She'd hardly eaten all day for nerves.
She frowned, "I just don't want to marry some man I don't know. I don't want to be a housekeeper for a stranger."
Archibald didn't respond he just took a hefty sip front his own tea cup.
She was going to miss this. She was going to miss this garden. She could remember when she was only eight and she stumbled upon it. Archibald had startled her so badly; she hadn't seen him sitting inside. She really shouldn't have been so startled; she was intruding on his garden. But instead of running her out, he offered her tea. She was surprised to find that they were near the same age. She'd known about Neville Craven, but was surprised to find there was an Archibald.
Her mother explained to her that night that Archibald was a cripple and was confided mostly to the house and its grounds. He was a hunchback. Lily didn't even know hunchbacks were real. She thought they were something made up by Victor Hugo to put in his story. Archibald looked nothing like Quasimodo. Quasimodo was ugly and disfigured. Archibald was not. In fact, he was quite handsome in a Byronic sort of way. Long dark hair paired with bright blue eyes that could nearly see into your soul. His shoulders were hunched to the right, but Lily had nearly thought he just had bad posture.
No, this boy was not a cripple.
And he was not a cripple now, at least not to Lily. Maybe to others, but not to her. Never to her. He was handsome, but wouldn't be sought after by any women in London. Good upstanding mothers would not let their daughter associate with such a man. Their children might turn out crippled as well. Thinking of Archibald falling in love with someone only added to her nerves. Which it shouldn't. Because he wasn't hers to feel nervous over.
"Lily?" Archibald brought her back to consciousness.
She blinked, "Sorry. Trapped in my head again."
He simply smiled, "Don't fret, Lily."
"Courtship scares me," she breathed, picking up her tea cup. "There, I said it."
"Well, don't be scared." Archibald advised. "It won't be scary." He looked at her, smiled as though he was embarrassed about it, and looked away. "It'll be like what we're doing now. Just sipping tea and talking."
"Yes, but I'll be talking to a stranger," Lily complained.
Archibald shook his head, his long dark hair swaying as he did, "That's why you talk, so that they won't be a stranger anymore."
The sky rumbled and Lily felt a few drops fall from the sky.
"We should head inside," he advised, standing up and grabbing the tea kettle.
But Lily didn't want to go inside. Going inside meant leaving and leaving meant courtship and courtship meant marriage and marriage meant growing up. The rain started to fall with more conviction and Archibald offered her a hand.
She shook her head, "I don't want to go inside."
"Lily, it's raining," he said as if she hadn't already noticed that herself. She laughed lightly, leaning her head back and extending her arms. Stretching herself out so that she could feel every raindrop that it was possible to feel.
"Let's run in the rain like we used to," she said with relish. "Just for a bit and then we'll go inside."
Archibald didn't move, but she heard the plink of him setting down the china.
"We were children then, Lily," his voice was small.
Lily stood as the rain drops became more and more furious. With a large and goofy smile, she took his hands and dragged him along with her.
"Then let's be children for a while."
With a mischievous smile, she released his hands and ran off into the garden, laughing all the way. The colors of the flowers whirled past her like a blurry rainbow that encircled and encompassed her. She could hear Archibald behind her and it made her smile even larger. Arms out like a bird, Lily ran through the maze of the garden and out into the moor. Grass and trees as far as she could see stretched on and on. Misselthwaite loomed in the distance like a great sleeping dragon.
The forming mud caught her boot and she lost her footing, falling onto her back. The impact hurt and stole all her wind from her.
The rain kept falling and made it impossible for her to keep her eyes open and stare at the sky. A dark shadow over her appeared, offering its hand for her to get up. She accepted it, rising to face Archibald.
The sudden closeness washed smile right off her face. There was nearly no space between them now.
Lily couldn't feel her heart beating. She couldn't feel herself breathing.
She tried to laugh but only a short breath came out, "I bet I look a mess now." She could feel the mud in her blonde hair. It was definitely all down her dress as well. Her mother would be furious. Stop behaving like a child, she would say. Lily wasn't thinking of that now. She was thinking that Archibald was looking at her quite funny. Like maybe she didn't look so bad with all this mud in her hair. Like make she looked-
"You look beautiful," he replied. His eyes looked right to her soul. How had she never noticed how extraordinary his eyes were? They were the most unbelievable shade of blue. They looked so striking against his dark hair.
Something in his face moved, "You always look beautiful."
Lily was going to kiss him. God, she wanted to kiss him.
Then, with the loudest sound she'd ever heard, a bolt of lightning hit a tree far down the moor.
"We need to get inside," Archibald said. Lily agreed, still clasping his hand as they ran to the house.
But she kept thinking of the moment before and how everything had looked different for just that short bit of time. Of how handsome she thought he was and how all of a sudden she'd felt such overwhelming fondness towards him. The thing she thought about most was how much she'd wanted to kiss him. She'd never imagine kissing him before but now it wouldn't leave her mind. Suddenly, she wasn't sure what scared her more: making her debut tomorrow or her new and unexpected feelings.
And another thing plagued her mind: the way Archibald had looked at her. He looked at her like she was the most magnificent painting he'd ever seen; like she was the most astonishing book he'd ever read. It was nice to be looked at that way. Lily felt she didn't deserve to be looked at that way. She wondered if he'd looked at her like that before. She wondered if he looked at her like that frequently.
More importantly, why she had never paid attention.