I think we can all agree that it was a charming party last night at the Sylvester's and that the birthday girl looked stunning in her pink gown. Little was seen of Aurelia Sylvester, which is a shame, as she most certainly would have outshone everybody else on the dance floor.
- FROM THE "GAMESOME GALLANT" COLUMN IN THE NEW YORK IMPERIAL, MONDAY 6th SEPTEMBER
Nathaniel De Ford was still in bed. He had been up for dinner last night, but that was about as far he had walked. He had not been out at all yesterday although that was the day you paid visits to all your friends and planned to visit your less liked friends but appropriately did so one you knew these were not at home.
Nathaniel had done none such things yesterday. He had been tired, had a headache and had been heartbroken.
He had spent the summer falling in love with Temperance Rutherford and she still did not notice. She was his best friend and painfully reminded him every time they met. She had no clue of his romantic feelings of course. To tell the entire world about them as a girl would? No way Nathaniel would lower him self to that level.
A servant gently knocked on the door and entered with ice water and an apple, specifically asked for, and put the tray on the nightstand. Nathaniel still did not feel like moving too much - he might hurt his heart, he thought sarcastically - but did so just for the fantastic feeling of cold water washing down one's throat. As he bit in to the apple he thought of his problems.
Because they were most certainly problems. It was not often a gentleman was irrevocably in love with a lady who had no clue whatsoever. It was not like Nathaniel could turn to his best friend either, as his best friend was his crush's brother. That was doomed to be the end of their friendship. He could not turn to his other best friend as she was the subject of his loving feelings.
In exasperation, Nathaniel sighed loudly and lied down once again. Was it possible to sleep through this week? Not to show him self for the next month or so, just until this little streak of love passed? He found him self wondering if it would take a long time. After all, it was Romeo and Juliet at the opera next week and he loved that opera. Surely, it would not take longer than a week for love to pass?
Several hours later, another servant knocked on the door to Nathaniel's little nest. He blinked multiple times to adjust to the light - or darkness, for it was a dim, dark light rather than actual light - and then looked at the girl.
"Miss Rutherford is waiting for you, sir", said the girl. Nathaniel could not remember her, not at all, which made him feel a bit guilty. But when his sister married the other month, she had taken some servants with her and then left her own family to hire new ones.
"Thank you. Tell her I will be along in minute." Nathaniel made his way too the mirror. "Can you ask Milton to come in here? He should be in the library."
Milton was Nathaniel's own, personal servant. Not as in a slave, of course. Milton had many interests and that was why he mostly spent his time in the library when not needed, some thing Nathaniel was hell bent on would continue until they grew old.
The girl nodded and then left the room as the brown haired man started undressing. He was still in his night wear, and would have to change remarkably quickly to keep Temperance from waiting much longer.
He had barely gotten his trousers up before Milton arrived and he quickly went to the wardrobe to get Nathaniel's finest shirt, a blue silk one, and a blazer to fit with it.
"You look more than good, sir", Milton - in his late thirties - said reassuring to Nathaniel as the younger man inspected him self in the mirror. Nathaniel gave Milton a smile and then left the room.
His 'apartment' was on the second floor, as was the parlor. Although Nathaniel was not sure it was this parlor - they had more than one, of course - he headed this way. This was where he had met Temperance last week, when it was decided they would take a ride in the park this Wednesday. Today was Monday. He was starting to regret that decision, but he had made a promise and would follow it through.
"Nate!"
Attacked by a blonde mane of hair as Temperance threw her self on him. Their bodies made an impact that made waves surge through his entire body, waves of comfort. Ah, man. It would not take a week to get over this. Not even a month. A year, if he managed to stay away from Tempie - which was unlikely - and presumably the eternity to get over her. Shit.
"What's the occasion?" laughed Nathaniel and kissed her on both cheeks before leading her towards the Charles XVI-sofas. Tea was already set up and he sent a silent prayer of thanks.
"Oh, nothing", she replied with a sparkling laugh. "I just missed you. Why did you not come yesterday to visit me? Mother was quite devastated."
"I will have to come earlier on Wednesday then, to make sure your mother sees enough of me." A cheeky smile snook up on him and not much later he was his regular self, laughing and friendly fighting with Temperance beside the piano to decide whom of them should play.
Now, if Nathaniel was good enough to actually play some thing, Tempie was god-awful at any thing that had with music to do. He had tried telling her that several times, but she simply turned the other way and refused to listen to him. He was sure that she knew though, and only did it to tease him.
It was not a joy to listen to the dinner conversations in the Sylvester Mansion. Reuben, the golden son - and only one, actually - was allowed to hold dreadful monologues despite the fact that the entire family found them boring. Not wanting to disappoint his son, Mr. Alistair Sylvester let him continue. He had not inherited his mother's beauty nor conversation skills from his father, and therefore no one could blame the young man sitting in this dining room.
Alistair had made a fortune on oil and railways, and his father had founded this dynasty when he found gold back when that was on the map. Quite a business man, Alistair Sylvester had invested his money before marrying and was there fore quite many years older than his wife. By the time they got married he was a millionaire and that was all that mattered.
He smiled politely towards his son to make him continue his exposition on horse racing, and then let his cold, grey eyes drift towards his brunette wife, beautiful even in her forties. It was clear that the girls had inherited their mothers almond eye shape and body frame, and Roselia - the one least like him self and mostly like her mother - had several other likeness between the two.
While Reuben mostly looked like Alistair's now dead father, there were some resemblance between the two of them. Grey eyes and the unattractive hawk nose that came from Alistair's mothers side of the family. Aurelia's nose bore some similar traits of it, but hers was much softer thanks to her mother.
Bringing wine to his lips, Alistair continued his inner monologue as Reuben seemed to have no intentions to stop his. His eyes caught Aurelia grimacing, and luckily - as she sat next to Reuben - he did not see her making a face. A giggle caught Alistair's' attention next, and when he looked to his left, Roselia had covered her mouth in her napkin so that Reuben would not see her laughing.
A servant appeared to take away the dishes, and although this was not a fancy dinner but rather a quite ordinary such, Alistair suggested that he and Reuben - for he was the one who could stand Reuben the most, having lived with his own father - would move to the library for cigars and whiskey. That way the ladies would get some rest and talk about more interesting things, such as gossip from the party Saturday night.
After lighting the cigar and taking the first sip of his whiskey, Alistair opened his mouth first to get ahead of Reuben. "What do you wish to do with your life, son?"
It was not a conversation Alistair had longed to have with said son, but now was the time. Reuben was twenty-one and was not the handsomest gentleman out there, so he would have to start looking now so that he was married before twenty-five. Of course, tradition did not put pressure on the gents to get married, only the ladies, but Alistair had high hopes for this. If Reuben got married, it would mean he moved out of this mansion.
Now, do not read this the wrong way. Alistair Sylvester do not hate his son in anyway, or even despise him. Alistair only prefer his daughters because they are much more interesting in a way Reuben will never be. While Reuben may marry a lady with a good name, the girls will be getting that good name upon marriage. And for all we know, Aurelia and Roselia were simply much more engaging than Reuben had ever been.
"I have been thinking", initiated Reuben and brought the cigar to his thin, pressed-together lips. "I am considering going abroad, maybe France. Do you know that wine is one of my passions, Father? It is quite remarkable, the time they put in to making the finest wines-"
"Yes. Yes, it is." Alistair made no attempt to hide this sigh. "I was talking about marriage. You are most certainly old enough." He raised both an eyebrow and his glass.
Reuben forced a smile to his lips and avoided his father's stern look. He gracefully pretended to view the portraits of his father and other minor relatives, as he considered his choices.
As he saw it, there where two of them. He might have confessed and told his father that no, he had no intentions of marriage just yet, or he could lie to his father and tell that he in deed had set eyes on some one that was yet to be discovered. He opted for the latter choice, not wanting to make more of a disappointing son.
"I have a lady in mind, I do."
Alistair had not thought it would come to that, and was pleasantly surprised by the fact. "May I ask what lady you had in mind? You do realize I cannot just let you marry whomever you like, Reuben. It has to be a lady."
"Of course, father, of course." Reuben once again avoided looking his father in the eye. Quickly, he searched through every name of possible ladies he could tell his father he was interested in, but could only come up with one name. "Araminta Vanderbilt. She is the one I wish to marry."
Alistair nodded slowly, impressed by his sons choice of a wife. It was not a closed deal yet, but rumor has it that particular Vanderbilt family was desperate for a marriage. "You go ask Mr. Vanderbilt before the end of the week", demanded Alistair, most happy with the way the conversation had progressed.
"Yes, father."
As Alistair Sylvester rose and left the room, Reuben emptied the remains of the bottle as he thought over what he had done.