Wedding Flowers-Chapter 1
The hall clock chimed the hour. Eight o'clock on a perfectly average Friday morning in May. The Van Dort household was up and about in its large and comfortable house outside of the village walls, ready to begin the day. Victor and two of his daughters were already in the dining room and halfway through breakfast. Victoria, ever punctual and a creature of routine, would be down any moment-breakfast was at eight, not a moment earlier or later.
Victor was just finishing off his eggs, scribbling away at his latest article for the lepidoptery society's quarterly journal as he did so. He was rather pleased with his work this time. He was also pleased that he was sharing the breakfast table with the quieter pair of his quartet of children, as he had a deadline to meet.
Lydia, the oldest, sat to his left. She was twenty-three, capable, witty, and intelligent, and looked exactly like Victor. No mere family resemblance, this. She had his face, his nose, his eyes, his hair color. Perhaps her lips were a trifle more full and feminine-looking, but that was truly the only difference between them. Rather unfortunate for a young woman, Victor sometimes thought, particularly when taken with the fact that she was enormously tall-by the time she was eighteen and had finally stopped growing, she was a half-inch taller than he was. Still, she was confident and vibrant, which gave her a particular beauty all her own. That, at least, was Victor's opinion, but perhaps he was biased toward his oldest child. And doppelganger.
On his right sat Anne, the third daughter. She was also pale and dark-eyed with Victor's black hair, but she had her mother's large eyes and heart-shaped face. Over her toast she proof-read the first few pages of Victor's article. Shy, quiet, obliging and studious, she was always a willing helper on her father's projects, and he was happy to have her help. It reminded him of when all the children were little. They'd grown up far too fast, his two oldest especially. Anne still seemed content to be at home with him and Victoria, to have things just as they'd always been. Selfish or not, Victor found that very comforting.
"Aren't you coming into the office today, Father?" Lydia asked, finishing off her tea as she stood up from the table. Victor looked up from his notebook at his firstborn. She loved going to the office, eight-thirty to four every weekday. He just couldn't understand it.
"Perhaps I'll be in later," he replied. It wasn't as though he had all that much to do at Van Dort's Fish. Ostensibly he was "Managing Director" at the cannery, whatever that meant. It had been over twenty years and he still had no idea. He signed paperwork and wrote checks as directed. Much like his home life, come to think of it.
Lydia had been hired to be his and William's secretary, largely to humor her when she'd come of age and said she wanted to work. Straightaway, though, she'd made it clear that she was far too smart for merely answering correspondence and sorting mail. For the past year she'd been Victor's assistant managing director, and did a really excellent job at it. So excellent, in fact, that Victor had no problem delegating pretty much every job responsibility to her. Lydia had work to do that she was good at and enjoyed, Victor's father could rest easy with the knowledge that someone competent was handling most day to day business, and Victor could spend the bulk of his time doing his research and writing his articles. And on the few days he did go to work, he got to spend time with his daughter, which made all of that check signing and paperwork a lot more enjoyable.
It was a good system.
"Your mother and I are meeting your sisters at the station, remember?" he added. The train station was awfully far away. He probably wouldn't be able to make it into work at all today. Oh, well.
"Ah, yes," Lydia said, wiping her fingers on her napkin and then tossing it onto her empty plate. "The travellers are returning. There goes the peace and quiet, eh, Anne?" Anne just glanced up briefly, a small smile playing around her mouth. Lydia grinned back at her.
"It will be nice to have them home, though," Victor said as Lydia stepped out into the entry for her hat and coat. As much as he'd miss the relative peace, he missed having the whole family at home together more. While having just Lydia and Anne at home was a nice break, as they got along so well and were so quiet and sedentary, Victor missed the exuberance and bright energy of the other two girls. He was also rather nervous about what they got up to while away, so he'd be glad to have them back where he could keep an eye on them.
Mary, the youngest at fifteen, had just finished up her last term of school. She'd gone to the same boarding school as her sisters had, a day's travel away. While her reports and marks were good enough, and she'd never been in any actual trouble, sometimes Mary's energy (or, as the etiquette mistress had put it in her end of term report, Mary's big mouth) got the better of her. There was also the incident earlier this term with the frog that had found its way into the desk of a classmate Mary had quarrelled with, but that sort of thing was an anomaly. Besides, the classmate was a dreadful and unpleasant snob, if Mary could be believed, so Victor figured she'd probably deserved it. It wasn't as though Mary was a troublemaker or terribly disobedient. She was just lively and needed some direction, but she wasn't all that much of a worry.
No, it was Catherine who worried him. She was twenty-two and acted every inch the young, pretty, and fabulously wealthy heiress. Her clothes were always the latest (none of her sisters seemed to care about that kind of thing), and she took real pride in cultivating her reputation in society. Victor's mother was thrilled with her, and the two of them got along famously. The flair for the dramatic she'd had as a little girl had evolved into a passion for parties, country weekends, and dancing. Parties, dresses, and a new hat every month Victor could handle. It was the following of men from all over the country (and a few from abroad), that he didn't like. Catherine relished the attention and the invitations, but, as far as Victor knew, she'd never crossed any lines. He knew he and Victoria had raised her better than that. But, given what had happened to the last girl he knew who'd been rich and beautiful and known for miles around, Victor felt it was best to be extra-cautious.
It had been a very long, worrying two months for Victor. Going away to school was one thing. Accompanying Victor's mother on an extended tour of the estates in the west of the country was something else entirely. The purpose of the trip was to be seen, to hobnob, et cetera, but he wasn't entirely naive. Given Catherine's standing and disposition, it was most likely she'd get married before any of her sisters did. But it could wait, as far as Victor was concerned. It could wait a very, very long time.
"Well, tell them hello for me, please," Lydia said, coming back into the room. She secured her hat with a lethal-looking hatpin, then turned to the small mirror that hung on the dining room wall next to the doorway. She straightened her lapels and smoothed back an errant bit of hair. While not as fashionable as Catherine, Victor had to admit Lydia cut quite the dash in her somber and well-tailored suits, with the straight and narrow skirts and shiny boots.
"I'll have to see them this evening, as I've got quite a bit to get through at work today," she added. Victor couldn't help smiling a bit at how important and proud she still sounded, even after a year. "And sorry to miss Mother, please tell her good morning. See you this evening!" With that, Lydia pulled on her gloves and disappeared into the hall. A moment later they heard the front door close.
"What time are they due to arrive? Oh, and these are fine," Anne said, handing Victor back the pages she'd read. Before he could reply, Victoria walked into the dining room.
"Good morning," she said, sitting down at the other end of the table, opposite Victor. He and Anne both returned her greeting, and she offered them smiles in turn. "I apologize for being late to breakfast. I wanted to make certain Catherine and Mary's rooms are ready for them." Victor smiled at her. He knew she was very much looking forward to having the children all back home again, just as he was. She'd been fluttering about the house for the past two days, making sure that their bed linens were fresh, that the lawn tennis net was up, and that their favorite dishes were on the dinner menus. Victor loved to watch her bustle about, filled with maternal purpose.
"We were just talking about going to meet their train," Victor said, pouring her a cup of tea and handing it to Anne, who passed it down.
"We'll have to leave just after breakfast," Victoria said, taking the cup and nodding her thanks. "The carriage will be ready, and we'll have a small lunch packed. I am so looking forward to seeing the girls," she said, serving herself some toast and tomatoes. "Dinner tonight will be lovely, with everyone together again."
"By the way, Lydia says good morning, and sorry she missed you," Victor said. The briefest flicker passed over Victoria's face as she picked up her fork.
"Off to work, then, I suppose?" she asked, her voice resigned. Victor looked at Anne, who met his look briefly before busying herself passing her mother a plate of sausages. The atmosphere in the room changed slightly but noticeably. Victoria did not approve of Lydia working for a living, Victor knew. She tried to keep quiet about it, and had never actively discouraged their daughter, but she also didn't go out of her way to encourage it. Victor supposed the whole concept was just foreign to her, and a bit hard for her to accept-he supposed he'd feel the same way if Lydia hadn't been working in the family business.
"And on her bicycle, too, I see," Victoria murmured, looking over Victor's shoulder out the window. He turned. Yes, there Lydia went, coasting down the drive and then out toward the bridge. She was the only woman in town who rode a bicycle-it had been her first purchase with her own money. He didn't comment, just turned back to the table and began tucking the loose pages of his article into his notebook.
"She likes her bicycle," Anne said, her tone quiet and soothing, as though Victoria had shouted. Turning to look out the window to watch as Lydia disappeared through the village gates, she added, "It was rather fun, the one time I tried it. Freeing."
Victoria gave a little sigh, then smiled at Anne. "Yes, she does like to ride her bicycle. I suppose it's good exercise." There was a brief pause.
"She's happy, you know, dear," Victor told her. They'd had this conversation many times in many different forms. It was part of the family drama, and he knew the script.
"I know, I know she is," Victoria said with another sigh. "It's still just a bit much for me to get used to. A young lady in...business." She spread her napkin on her lap. "Things have certainly changed since we were young, haven't they?" Victor nodded.
"Yes, they certainly have," he agreed. "Still though, I must say I support any societal changes that result in my having to pretend to be a businessman only twice a week." He saw Victoria and Anne share an amused glance.
"I'm very happy broad social trends worked out so well for the both of you," Victoria said, with just the merest sardonic note in her voice, looking at him under her eyelashes over the rim of her teacup. Victor grinned at her.
"Me too," he said.