Wedding Flowers-Chapter 3

"You're sure you don't want to come with us?" Mother asked as she pulled on her gloves. Anne stood next to the staircase, watching her parents prepare to leave for the long drive to the train station. Mr. Reed, their all-purpose male servant, had the team of horses and the handsomer of the family's two carriages ready to take them to meet the train.

Anne nodded her reply. She was sure. It was rare that she ever had nearly an entire day all to herself, and she planned to make good use of it. She watched as Mother put on her small cream-colored hat, arranging the little lace veil over her face. It matched her close-cut and narrow-skirted dress, as well as her shoes. Mother was always so coordinated. Anne wished she could achieve Mother's elegant simplicity and beauty. Unfortunately, she felt she was rather stuck on the "simplicity" part of the equation. The elegance and beauty remained elusive.

"Really?" Father asked, helping Mother into her wrap. As he shrugged into his coat he added, "I'm sure your sisters would like to see you."

"Oh, well...I wanted to decorate the dining room for tonight, to make it special," Anne said. Her parents smiled fondly at her. A little voice in her head said, Liar liar liar! in a lilting playground tone. For some reason it sounded like her sister Catherine. Anne shook her head a little. She wasn't a liar. Not completely. She just wasn't mentioning all of her plans.

"That's very nice of you," Mother said, pulling on her gloves. "I'm sure it will be beautiful. Do help yourself to whatever you like in the garden, if you need flowers. Alice knows where the vases are." Anne nodded again. She was trying not to fidget too much, to keep her cool, while she kept casting glances at the clock. Come on, do leave already! that Catherine-esque voice in her head kept saying.

"Yes, I'll do that, thank you, Mother!" she chirped, hoping she didn't sound anxious. She made a show of looking at the clock. "My goodness, you'll both want to be on your way, I'm sure! It wouldn't do to be late, after all."

Perhaps she chirped a bit too much, for Father gave her a funny look. Anne looked at the floor. She should've just kept quiet. Her sisters were all able to lie breezily, especially with Father. Mother, as a rule, was harder to put one over on, and usually none of them even bothered trying. Anne didn't share the ability. She was horrible at fibbing anyway, but she found it especially hard to conceal things from Father. In the first place she never needed to, and in the second, he knew her too well to be fooled on the rare occasion she did try. Usually she loved the closeness she shared with Father. They understood one another, shared many interests. Today, she was rather ashamed to admit to herself, she found their affinity almost annoying.

"Hm," Father said, still looking at her closely. He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression unchanging and inscrutable. Anne closed her eyes for a brief moment. He knows! He figured it out! Why always me? she thought, bracing herself, mentally drafting excuses and apologies, trying not to panic.

Much to her relief, Father broke into a grin. "She clearly wants us gone," he said to Mother, who smiled broadly. Turning to Anne, he continued, "I suppose you're looking forward to having the house to yourself. A little quiet time. I don't blame you. Enjoy it while you can!" He came over and gave her a fond little pat on the shoulder. Anne grinned at him. Phew! If only he knew.

Suddenly an automobile horn blared. Anne, already tense, nearly jumped out of her skin. Father, who had also jumped, gave her another pat, this one reassuring, before walking over to peek out the glass pane of the front door. Mother joined him, and Anne, after a moment, tagged along behind.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Father groaned, putting a hand over his eyes and shaking his head. Mother put a hand to her mouth, staying quiet. Anne, for her part, had to bite her lower lip to keep from smiling.

There, bold as brass in the drive, with a dark figure in the driver's seat, sat the infamous Two Thousand Dollar Death Trap.

Anne didn't have a head for automobile names, so she really wasn't sure what kind it was, but it hardly mattered. If one said "car" or "auto" around this village, one could only mean William Van Dort's touring car, which he'd bought two years ago as a status symbol. He was the only man with an automobile for miles. It didn't see all that much use, since the streets within the village walls were hardly equipped for motorcars, but Granddad and Grandmamma were only too happy to go about in it when they had business outside of the village.

Oddly enough, it was Grandmother Everglot who'd given the auto its nickname. She'd intended the remark as an insult the very second she'd laid eyes on the car. But, as with so many insults in history, it had been co-opted and affectionately used as something akin to a pet name. Now everyone in town knew the Van Dorts' touring car as the Two Thousand Dollar Death Trap.

"I'm not getting in that thing," Father said, staring at the automobile. His tone was resolute. Anne knew Father wasn't all that impressed with cars. Particularly not Granddad's, what with the retractable advertisements. Mother gave him a look, and gently touched his arm.

"I'm sure your father sent it along as a courtesy," Mother told him. "We can always say 'No, thank you,' after all." Father looked over Mother's shoulder at Anne, who could only shrug.

Eventually Mr. Reed, after a prolonged conversation with the driver of the Death Trap, came up to the front door. Stepping into the entry, he explained that Mrs. Van Dort had been quite insistent that the automobile pick up herself and her granddaughter from the train station. That way, they both could be seen heading back into the village in style. It would also be an opportunity for the younger Mr. and Mrs. Van Dort to be seen motoring. Anne couldn't help noticing how uncomfortable nice old Mr. Reed looked as he relayed this information, turning his hat over and over in his hands and stealing little looks over at the carriage and team he'd taken so long to prepare.

"Who does she suppose is going to see them? Or us?" Father asked. Mother nudged him gently with her elbow. "What?" he asked.

"We can compromise," Mother said in that calm way of hers. Turning to Mr. Reed, she said, "Tell the car to go on ahead, and we'll follow in the carriage. That way Mrs. Van Dort can motor all she likes, and whoever else cares to may ride in the carriage." Father nodded, and Mr. Reed went back out to relay the message.

"Come, we'd best be on our way," Mother said, taking Father's arm. "We don't want to be late." They both turned to look at Anne, who'd resumed her post at the foot of the stairs, one hand on the bannister.

"We'll see you tonight, dear," Father said. "Enjoy your day." With that, the two of them headed outside, Father offering a little wave back at her as he went.

As soon as the door shut Anne rushed to the parlor window and watched her parents get into the carriage. The Death Trap peeled away in front of them, spinning up gravel and making the horses snicker and sidestep before heading on their way. Down the drive the carriage went. Anne waved, even though she knew no one would see her.

They were gone. She was alone. She looked at the hall clock. Nearly ten. She only had a few minutes to get ready. Anne fairly scampered up the stairs to her bedroom, taking a few stairs two at a time in her haste.

As she hurried, her thoughts turned inevitably to Ned. Oh, Ned. She was rather sure he'd meet her for a walk as offered in her note for this morning (Lydia was so kind to carry letters back and forth for them). She was so looking forward to seeing him. Letters were lovely, and there was something romantic and old-fashioned about a semi-secret correspondence, but nothing compared to being in his company.

She'd only met him a month ago, when he'd come to dinner at Lydia's invitation. They'd sat across the table from each other, gazes meeting over a dish of peas. As far as Anne was concerned, that had been that. It didn't really matter that he was quite a bit older than she was, thirty-two to her freshly-turned twenty. His relatively youthful air was a nice match for her rather beyond-her-years maturity. He was kind and cheerful, but also had a certain solemnity about him that she rather liked. She also liked the way he parted his fair hair straight down the middle, in a perfect line. And his little spectacles.

She shook herself. It wouldn't do to get distracted. She'd see him soon enough, and she was running out of time to prepare.

Once in her bedroom she went to her wardrobe. For quite a while she merely stood, staring at her clothes. What to choose? She wanted to look as nice as possible. Fashionable. Pretty, even. Like Mother and Catherine. She started sifting through her clothes. Tweed skirts. Shirtwaists. More tweed skirts. One hand-me-down gown from Mother that was about thirty years out of date as well as much too fancy to go walking in. She slumped, cursing her sensible wardrobe.

Finally, she settled on one of her nicer shirtwaists, the flattering blue one with the lace on the collar and the pearl buttons. Nothing too fancy. Now hair...oh, just a simple twist would do. She couldn't call in Alice, the maid, to help-Alice would let something slip, she was sure. Anne knew there wasn't anything illicit about what she was doing-it was perfectly respectable, all above-board.

She just wanted Ned and their letters and their walks to be all her own for a little while.

Anne smiled at herself in the mirror. After considering, she pulled just a few tendrils of hair loose around her face. Ooh yes, flattering. She was ready.