"Oomph!" Winnie felt the wood under her palms and wiped the dust off her
dress. Apparently she and her sister had forgotten in the past couple of
years to clean away the dirt and grime from their sanctuary. Turning
around as best she could, (which proved a hard thing to do in such a
garment) Winnie found the sight before her rather amusing. Amelia was
sitting Indian style, her pale rose dress covered in soot and filth and her
hair in such a mess it might have been mistaken for a nest of some sort.
Giggling loudly, Winnie held up a finger at her sister, loosing her balance in the process. It was now Amelia's turn to laugh; this was not a sight one saw everyday. Prestigious, shy, lovable Winnifred Foster in a blundering upheaval, panting heavily and glaring into the eyes of young lady, who could not quite be described as a lady for the present moment. Amelia simply showed off an angelic smile, and batted her eyelashes as well. Placing a lock of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear, she pressed on, making it impossible for Winnie to do anything but go forward.
They soon came to another opening, an even smaller door than the one in the closet, fixed in the middle of the wall, with a stained glass window in the center of the door. Oh, it was a sight when the sun came down through the tiny cracks of splintered wood. Like a real fairyland, if you had enough imagination, a quality which both girls possessed in abundance. Winnie pushed the small frame open with little frustration. She paused a second to catch her breath as she climbing into the next section and looked at her surroundings. Fully in the room, she stood upright now, stretching her back simply because she could. Amelia soon followed, and took in a deep breath of air, letting the familiar scent wash over her.
"It's been to long since I've been here."
"We'll need to paint it this summer," added Winnie who was glancing up at the faded pale green wallpaper.
"Why don't we start cleaning it up after dinner? If we start right now, we'll just get even more dirty and I'm sure mother will just be dying to know how we got that way." Amelia sighed and pushed open a window, struggling a bit. It was safe enough she knew; the window couldn't be seen from anywhere, unless you were on the roof, and the Foster roof was a stable roof, or so any Foster would have you believe. Pride in one's house was a must, and shamefulness was akin to disgracefulness; though if you were to say it out load, it would still make sense.
"This'll be nice to have in the summertime."
"What do you mean?"
"When mother and father are traveling abroad, dear sister, we can do whatever we like. And that includes fixing up these rooms and staying in them for however long we want." She turned back to Winnie, finding a doubtable expression on her face. "Oh come on Winnie, it'll be nice to stay up here during the summer...you *know* how dreadfully hot it can get."
Her sister was just about to nod her head when the ringing of a bell sounded into their ears. Both looked up quickly, a sense of dread and disappointment marred their pretty faces. Amelia shut the window, locking it firmly and followed Winnie out the door, crawling on her hands and knees.
"You know, we really ought to have a rug in here!" Winnie smothered a laugh, choosing simply to smile instead. Within a minuet they were back out, sighing as they shut the door, and put away the key.
"Misses? Oh misses?" The sharp knock on the door told the girls it must have been Dorothy, the cook. Always impatient, she would curtly know once, and call out their names, wasting no time at all.
"Yes?"
"Dinner's ready ma'am." Winnie nodded, sighing deeply and making her door, ready to bring the food back up, when a sudden figure appeared...her mother.
"Amelia, Winnifred, you will both come down for dinner; I will not hear of you sulking off to your rooms in such a manner. Why it's practically disgraceful! Follow me." Amelia glared at her mother's back, hoping to burn the fabric with her eyes.
And so they went: the eldest gliding down the curved staircase, the second anxiously, and the third, rather disdainfully.
"Ah, girls, so kind of you to join us." Winnie glanced up at her father and took her seat. It did no good trying to read his mind, no good at all. He was a clever man, a businessman, and nothing got past him.
"Amelia," he said, painfully forced.
"Father," was the only stiff reply he received. Taking her seat, she carefully unfolded the napkin and placed it in her lap, (taking great care to cover up the stains on her dress) sitting up straight, wishing with all her might that she could just disappear. The cold steel eyes of her father were locked onto her, never faltering. She looked down at her napkin and felt her face become flushed and hot. A hand under the table affectionately squeezed hers, as if trying to send some of its power and strength into her body. Alas, it did no good, for as soon as Amelia gathered up the courage to peer back up, there they were, empty and heartless, angered and prejudiced....prideful and conceited.
It was if all the hate and evil things that had slipped out of Pandora's box had found it's new master in the form of a confused middle-aged man. Her pity, though, was not to be announced. Her father did not take empathy willingly, a great misfortune to those who offered it, whether it was true or false. A harsh cough from the opposite side of the table presented itself, and all faces glanced towards Mrs. Foster. While she was not the most caring or attentive mother in the world, she did not believe in treating anyone with contempt and the way in which her husband acted and it often made her uncomfortable.
She made no effort to make conversation for there was usually no talking permitted at the dinner table, unless of course they were in the company of a guest. Silence took over the room-not completely comfortable, although it did keep one on one's toes.
Well, each meal was served with the dignity of the Foster home, for all the servants took great care not to disgrace their names by somehow displeasing their masters. First came the appetizers, followed by course after course until it was time for desert, which was a rare occasion. Mr. Foster felt that by caving into such sweets showed no discipline while his wife felt it made her waistline bigger. Neither girl objected towards the inclination of something sugary...rather Amelia felt she deserved some, given the agony her parents had recently put her in.
As soon as the ice cream was devoured the girls were positively itching to get back upstairs. Amelia put a cool hand to her forehead and looked rather distressed.
"Mother, I'm a bit tired from my...activities today. May I please be excused to turn in for the night?"
"Certainly dear. You'll find that Heloise has taken the liberty of unpacking all your belongings."
"Wonderful." Amelia, still cautious not to show any stains, quickly got up to give her mother a kiss on the cheek. With a quick step of her heel she started for the stairs when she heard it. A loud gasp pierced the air. Amelia spun around to see her father frowning and her mother looking quite disgusted. Winnie was content to bight hard on her lip and motion to the back of her sister's dress.
Amelia suppressed a groan as she realized what was the cause of the evening's uproar. A large dirty stain was on the back her beautiful rose- colored dress. She gently touched the fabric and winced, knowing she'd most likely be thrown out of the house within minutes. Of course it was only a dress, but once added to the whole of things that had occurred today and in the past in general...well, the odds did not look good.
Mr. Foster's beady eyes began almost microscopic as her glared at his eldest daughter.
"Amelia." One word, two syllables, but the meaning was apparent. They way he spoke it-quiet but deadly-shook her to her very core.
But somehow Amelia just wasn't afraid anymore. She spun around fiercely with all the energy she had left. She quickly glanced at her mother and sister, but from that moment on she kept a steady gaze on her father.
"Don't bother father," she said, her voice as cool as ice. "I'll get my bags and find a hotel to stay in."
She turned sharply on her heel and held her up high, but deep inside her spirit was fading.
Giggling loudly, Winnie held up a finger at her sister, loosing her balance in the process. It was now Amelia's turn to laugh; this was not a sight one saw everyday. Prestigious, shy, lovable Winnifred Foster in a blundering upheaval, panting heavily and glaring into the eyes of young lady, who could not quite be described as a lady for the present moment. Amelia simply showed off an angelic smile, and batted her eyelashes as well. Placing a lock of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear, she pressed on, making it impossible for Winnie to do anything but go forward.
They soon came to another opening, an even smaller door than the one in the closet, fixed in the middle of the wall, with a stained glass window in the center of the door. Oh, it was a sight when the sun came down through the tiny cracks of splintered wood. Like a real fairyland, if you had enough imagination, a quality which both girls possessed in abundance. Winnie pushed the small frame open with little frustration. She paused a second to catch her breath as she climbing into the next section and looked at her surroundings. Fully in the room, she stood upright now, stretching her back simply because she could. Amelia soon followed, and took in a deep breath of air, letting the familiar scent wash over her.
"It's been to long since I've been here."
"We'll need to paint it this summer," added Winnie who was glancing up at the faded pale green wallpaper.
"Why don't we start cleaning it up after dinner? If we start right now, we'll just get even more dirty and I'm sure mother will just be dying to know how we got that way." Amelia sighed and pushed open a window, struggling a bit. It was safe enough she knew; the window couldn't be seen from anywhere, unless you were on the roof, and the Foster roof was a stable roof, or so any Foster would have you believe. Pride in one's house was a must, and shamefulness was akin to disgracefulness; though if you were to say it out load, it would still make sense.
"This'll be nice to have in the summertime."
"What do you mean?"
"When mother and father are traveling abroad, dear sister, we can do whatever we like. And that includes fixing up these rooms and staying in them for however long we want." She turned back to Winnie, finding a doubtable expression on her face. "Oh come on Winnie, it'll be nice to stay up here during the summer...you *know* how dreadfully hot it can get."
Her sister was just about to nod her head when the ringing of a bell sounded into their ears. Both looked up quickly, a sense of dread and disappointment marred their pretty faces. Amelia shut the window, locking it firmly and followed Winnie out the door, crawling on her hands and knees.
"You know, we really ought to have a rug in here!" Winnie smothered a laugh, choosing simply to smile instead. Within a minuet they were back out, sighing as they shut the door, and put away the key.
"Misses? Oh misses?" The sharp knock on the door told the girls it must have been Dorothy, the cook. Always impatient, she would curtly know once, and call out their names, wasting no time at all.
"Yes?"
"Dinner's ready ma'am." Winnie nodded, sighing deeply and making her door, ready to bring the food back up, when a sudden figure appeared...her mother.
"Amelia, Winnifred, you will both come down for dinner; I will not hear of you sulking off to your rooms in such a manner. Why it's practically disgraceful! Follow me." Amelia glared at her mother's back, hoping to burn the fabric with her eyes.
And so they went: the eldest gliding down the curved staircase, the second anxiously, and the third, rather disdainfully.
"Ah, girls, so kind of you to join us." Winnie glanced up at her father and took her seat. It did no good trying to read his mind, no good at all. He was a clever man, a businessman, and nothing got past him.
"Amelia," he said, painfully forced.
"Father," was the only stiff reply he received. Taking her seat, she carefully unfolded the napkin and placed it in her lap, (taking great care to cover up the stains on her dress) sitting up straight, wishing with all her might that she could just disappear. The cold steel eyes of her father were locked onto her, never faltering. She looked down at her napkin and felt her face become flushed and hot. A hand under the table affectionately squeezed hers, as if trying to send some of its power and strength into her body. Alas, it did no good, for as soon as Amelia gathered up the courage to peer back up, there they were, empty and heartless, angered and prejudiced....prideful and conceited.
It was if all the hate and evil things that had slipped out of Pandora's box had found it's new master in the form of a confused middle-aged man. Her pity, though, was not to be announced. Her father did not take empathy willingly, a great misfortune to those who offered it, whether it was true or false. A harsh cough from the opposite side of the table presented itself, and all faces glanced towards Mrs. Foster. While she was not the most caring or attentive mother in the world, she did not believe in treating anyone with contempt and the way in which her husband acted and it often made her uncomfortable.
She made no effort to make conversation for there was usually no talking permitted at the dinner table, unless of course they were in the company of a guest. Silence took over the room-not completely comfortable, although it did keep one on one's toes.
Well, each meal was served with the dignity of the Foster home, for all the servants took great care not to disgrace their names by somehow displeasing their masters. First came the appetizers, followed by course after course until it was time for desert, which was a rare occasion. Mr. Foster felt that by caving into such sweets showed no discipline while his wife felt it made her waistline bigger. Neither girl objected towards the inclination of something sugary...rather Amelia felt she deserved some, given the agony her parents had recently put her in.
As soon as the ice cream was devoured the girls were positively itching to get back upstairs. Amelia put a cool hand to her forehead and looked rather distressed.
"Mother, I'm a bit tired from my...activities today. May I please be excused to turn in for the night?"
"Certainly dear. You'll find that Heloise has taken the liberty of unpacking all your belongings."
"Wonderful." Amelia, still cautious not to show any stains, quickly got up to give her mother a kiss on the cheek. With a quick step of her heel she started for the stairs when she heard it. A loud gasp pierced the air. Amelia spun around to see her father frowning and her mother looking quite disgusted. Winnie was content to bight hard on her lip and motion to the back of her sister's dress.
Amelia suppressed a groan as she realized what was the cause of the evening's uproar. A large dirty stain was on the back her beautiful rose- colored dress. She gently touched the fabric and winced, knowing she'd most likely be thrown out of the house within minutes. Of course it was only a dress, but once added to the whole of things that had occurred today and in the past in general...well, the odds did not look good.
Mr. Foster's beady eyes began almost microscopic as her glared at his eldest daughter.
"Amelia." One word, two syllables, but the meaning was apparent. They way he spoke it-quiet but deadly-shook her to her very core.
But somehow Amelia just wasn't afraid anymore. She spun around fiercely with all the energy she had left. She quickly glanced at her mother and sister, but from that moment on she kept a steady gaze on her father.
"Don't bother father," she said, her voice as cool as ice. "I'll get my bags and find a hotel to stay in."
She turned sharply on her heel and held her up high, but deep inside her spirit was fading.
