Disclaimer: Apparently Erik is as elusive in real life as he is in the books/movies, so he's still not mine. Only Clara, her family, and all other original creations are mine.
AN: Here's chapter 3! Sadly, there's no Erik in this chapter, but he'll definately be in the next one! Meanwhile, I hope that people are enjoying this story. Also, I have a huge fear of making Mary Sues, so if Clara becomes Sue-ish, let me know! Oh, and someone asked if Clara is based on me: physically, she looks a little like me, but the rest is how she is in my head. Plus, I want readers to feel a little closer to her, so I put her in first-person POV. Feel free to leave a review on what you think of her and the other characters!
Chapter 3: Anything But a Southern Belle:
Biting my lip, I did my best to keep myself from crying as the Brooks' home faded into the distance behind me. In my opinion, it had been another tea party-turned-disaster, even though I had managed to stay for two cups of tea and a few tiny cakes before that handsome masked man wanted my chair. I really shouldn't have gone in the first place; social events are truly not my forte, despite anything my mother might say.
'Still, it is a lovely day for a carriage ride…perhaps I can convince Henry to drive by the creeks instead of taking me directly home?'
"Henry, would you please drive by the creeks? The breezes there would be wonderful today, and I would like to take a few flowers home to Mother," I said, doing my best to keep my voice firm and commanding, but failing miserably.
I sighed at the sound of my lack of authority. Mama always says that I'm too 'soft' with the servants whenever I want something from them. I always sound as though I were asking a favor instead of telling them exactly what I want. Although, I suppose that's why they like me better and do their best to please me more than they do with Mama's orders; she always yells at them, but then, Mama's always yelling at everyone.
"I'd love to take you, Miss Clara, but Mrs. Savoy said that if I don't get you back soon as the party's over, she's gonna tan my hide!" Henry said over his shoulder, though his tone was somewhat teasing, despite the serious subject matter.
I smiled in spite of myself. "You know she won't harm a hair on your head, Henry," I replied, holding my parasol higher to keep the sun off my face, a lesson Mother still frequently drummed into my head.
"Still, her yelling's enough to convince me," he said, facing front once more.
"But we both know that the party won't officially be over for another hour, and Mama won't be expecting me for another two hours!" I pleaded, pulling a fan from a pocket hidden beneath the lace of my skirts. "And I promise not to say a word to her about it. Please, Henry?"
My black driver sighed, though I could tell he was smiling. "Alright, Miss, as you wish."
I did my best not to smile in triumph; sometimes its better to treat the help like actual people. If only Mama could learn that lesson…
The little web of creek beds created a cool, pleasant atmosphere, one that I desperately needed before returning home. Mother would not be pleased to see me home so soon, since most girls tended to stay behind at parties for quite a while before returning to their own houses. Yes, some lovely quiet-time alone to gather my thoughts and courage was exactly what I needed before I went back to the plantation. Hopefully Mother would be napping or away visiting her sisters instead of waiting to hear how the tea party went.
I sighed. 'If only I could be so fortunate.'
A few strands of my red-brown hair escaped the curls around my head, crossing my vision as the light breezes from the water tossed them about. Closing my eyes, I did my best to absorb the calm tranquility of the rushing water into my body. I always tried to carry this piece of Paradise with me wherever I went, just so I always had a place to go to when the world fell apart around me…which was quite often these days.
"Miss Clara, it's getting close to that time," Henry's lilting voice softly interrupted my moment.
Reluctantly, I opened my eyes with another sigh. "Alright, let's go home, then."
He nodded before guiding the carriage away towards the house.
The high sound of female shrieking coming through the open windows was a sure sign that my luck had abandoned me. Mother was in a rage over some trifle or another, and I was sure to receive a very long lecture because she was unhappy with the way the servants had done their jobs today. I wish I knew how Father and the staff put up with her when she's like this, but I suppose, in our heart-of-hearts, we all love Mother, despite her temper tantrums. She really does mean well, when she yells and lectures us…
As Henry pulled to a stop in front of the door, my younger brother, Philip, ran out to meet us. Once he reached us, Philip quickly moved to help me out of the carriage, a small smile on his lips. I smiled back as my feet landed on the dirt driveway, quickly going on tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheek. My dear eighteen-year-old brother cringed, but bent forward to return the gesture anyway, which was a bit unusual; he usually did not like getting or returning his older sister's kisses. Sure enough, he showed his hidden reason for kissing me back by putting his lips near my ear.
"Mother's in a fit over the flower arrangements in the parlor," he whispered. "She started only an hour ago."
I nodded; that was our secret code for passing information about how to escape Mother's wrath. Today, it meant that I would be able to slip up to my rooms and sit and wait for her to come to me, which would not be for quite some time. If I remained in my present tea-party dress, it would appear as though I had just returned from the Brooks' estate, and Mother would not be upset with me for avoiding her upon returning home. I had done this sort of trick before, and fearfully hoped that it would work again, as it had on other occasions.
I pulled away from Philip's side and went in the front entrance. The parlor was in a back corner of the house to catch the best light, and I knew Mama would be in that part of the house for the next few hours. She would first yell at the servants for not arranging the flowers correctly to go well with the wallpaper and the curtains, then start complaining of how the flower merchants were always sending the wrong sort of blossoms to our home and cheating us of our money. After she was finished with her rants about the flowers, Mama would then go into the kitchen to oversee dinner as she normally did, just to be sure that everything was perfect for the evening. Papa, Philip, and I could have cared less about the presentation of our dinner, as long as we could eat it, but Mama cared about it enough for every family in the county, so we let her have her way. Once dessert was over with, she would begin preparations for tomorrow's meals, leaving the rest of us in peace, at least for a little while.
Biting back a grin, I slipped up to my room and carefully shut my door so that no one heard me. The room was fairly dark, just the way I liked it while hiding from my mother. The dark blue theme of the room made it appear as though it were night, though the white of the bedsheets and the lacy curtains hanging from the bedposts made it appear the bed were floating in the darkness. Other than the white sheets and curtains, everything else in the room was made from dark materials: the wood of the furniture, the window curtains, the rugs, everything. I liked my room dark as much as possible, as it kept the room from becoming too hot during the summer and held the heat in during the winter.
And it was my sanctuary away from the world.
Sitting down at my mahogany vanity table, I leaned back in my chair and folded my hands in my lap, preparing myself. I was a very patient person when it came to things like avoiding confrontations with my mother, though she never thought I was the kind to wait her out. That was what made this waiting game of mine such a good one: if she never suspected me as a patient person, she would never discover this little avoidance tactic and put a stop to it.
Over an hour went by before I heard my mother's approaching footsteps. She gave a brisk knock on the door before flying into the room, stopping in her tracks at the sight of me with my hands in my lap. She sniffed in surprise before coming up behind me and placing her hands on my shoulders in a tender gesture, signaling that she had calmed down since earlier and was in a good mood.
"How was the tea party at the Brooks residence?" she asked, her hands reaching up to undo my hair.
I had to choose my words carefully. "It was alright," I replied, holding still so Mama could do her work. "I talked with a few people and everyone was talking about the Summer Ball happening next month."
"Good, good," she absently said, removing the pins that held my hair up.
'Oh, no.' When Mother talks in that manner, it meant trouble for me.
"You know, Philip will be out with us at the Ball," Mother said, her black eyes staring into mine through our reflections in the mirror.
I hid a wince at the hidden meaning: Mother was upset about my not being married at twenty-four years of age. I was supposed to have been wed by now, leaving Philip to appear in public as an eligible young man from a wealthy family. Philip was handsome enough to win any girl; he had dark brown hair, light brown eyes, and was tall, even taller than Papa was! There would be no trouble with him obtaining a good marriage, possibly even one to a girl he liked.
"Clara." That was all my mother needed to say. She was disappointed in me. Well, she was disappointed in both of her children, but me especially. I was not the small, petite beauty she was.
My mother wasn't a Southern Belle, per say, but was instead from a good family that had moved here from the Far West, near the city of San Francisco. My grandfather had obtained a large plot of land during a business deal, and before he knew it, he had moved his entire brood of children to Virginia. Mama, as the eldest of six children, did her duty and married the first man that had caught her eye, meaning my dear Papa. Her tiny stature, black hair, black eyes, and lovely golden skin had hooked him immediately, and the two were madly in love with each other the moment they had first met. It was truly the sort of thing for fairy tales.
I was born to them nine months after their wedding. I was a pretty enough child, I suppose. Instead of my mother's black hair or my father's golden-red, I had straight, dark brown hair. My brown eyes came from a mixture of my mother's deep black eyes and Papa's blue-gray. As I grew older, Mama had hoped that I would be a tall, petite woman, and a great beauty that would quickly wed. She was disappointed when I stopped growing at the same height she was, with a thicker waistline and wider hips than she bore, even after having two children. My hair lightened to a reddish-brown, though my eyes remained a deep, chocolate brown color. At sixteen years of age, I had officially become an embarrassment to my mother, a girl who would never have the looks of a Southern beauty.
By eighteen, it was clear that I was doing everything wrong in trying to obtain a husband. I was too shy to be a true Southern Belle, Papa said, though he said it fondly. I suppose he never wanted his little girl to leave him, since I was better to talk to than Mama was; after all, I could hold a conversation for more than five minutes without yelling at anyone. However, I could never approach a man to tease or flirt with him, which was the center of a Southern girl's way of getting a man to notice her. I had often tried, but when I did, I blushed too much and stuttered my words when I spoke. When that happened, the men would smile politely before going off to talk with another girl who was far more experienced than I was, leaving me standing alone in a corner somewhere. Mama had tried to teach me the correct way, but since she was from out West, her teachings were rather lacking.
In the end, I merely gave up trying to be something I clearly wasn't. Eventually, I discovered that I could really care less about being a Southern Belle. I would rather dive into a book, walk barefoot through the creeks, or go horseback riding than flirt with men. I was good at other things besides flirting, so I might as well do them instead. Besides, it didn't matter if I never married a wealthy man; Papa had secretly put money aside for me in case I never married, and Philip swore that he'd always take care of me no matter what happened after Mama and Papa passed away. So what was the use of me marrying someone who'd never care for me? I wanted love, not financial security and a cold relationship with a man who would never want to see me!
"Miss Clara!" called a voice. "Your bath's ready!"
Mama sighed and pulled away. "Take your bath and come downstairs so we can talk about a dress for the Ball," she said, her tone firm and commanding.
I nodded and stood up, undoing my dress so I could wash away the dirt from the afternoon's carriage ride.
An hour later, I was in a fresh blue dress and seated in the dark library, a book in my hands and Papa's mutterings over the monthly bills filling my ears. Despite her commands, Mother had gone into town to find some cloth that would be used for dresses for the two of us. I knew she wouldn't want us to clash, but she wouldn't want us to be too much alike, either, and she would do her best to make me look as beautiful as possible, even though I wasn't.
Papa chuckled. "Don't worry your pretty little head about the Ball too much, my little pumpkin," he said.
I looked up and smiled at him. "I'll try not to," I teased back, my smile turning into a grin as Papa winked at me.
"And don't you listen to your mother," he ordered, knowing full well that my unmarried status was the only thing Mama ever worried about these days, besides how the interior of the house looked. "You'll find a good man when you're good and ready…and you'll marry him when I'm good and ready to approve of the marriage!"
I giggled before turning back to my book. My dear Papa…so protective of me! If one of my parents favored one child, Papa fussed over me as much as Mama fretted over Philip. Oh, both Mama and Papa loved us both, but Mama always worried over her 'little baby boy' and Papa tended to think that all the men of the world were trying to steal his 'little princess' away from him.
"That palomino horse you were admiring, the one running around the old Clark place for the last two years?" Papa said. "You remember that mare?"
My head snapped up. "Yes, of course!" I'd admired that horse for quite sometime, but never thought it would ever be mine.
"Well, turns out that some rich Frenchman bought the old Clark place over a year ago." Papa snorted. "Old Man Clark never did offer the land to me like he promised. He said he would sell it to me so I could expand our plantation, but that just goes to show you…"
"A Frenchman bought the place?" I asked, curious about the new neighbor. "Why was I never told?"
"He's a bit of a recluse," my father replied. "Doesn't go out much, but he's a good friend to Tom and Martha Brooks, so everyone's accepted him right quickly. And we did tell you; you just lost interest because your mother used the words 'available' and 'man' in the same sentence. You know you always stop listening at that point." I laughed in agreement. "Anyway, the place was sold eighteen months ago, and he's only now just selling that mare! And he's sold it to me for a very good price!"
I held my breath until Papa grinned at me. I let out an unladylike squeal and threw my book aside as I went to hug and kiss my father. I'd always wanted that gold-colored horse, and now he was spoiling me by giving it to me. Papa gave me an affectionate pat on the head as I pulled away and told me to go outside and "play with my new pony."
I ran upstairs to change into a riding dress, calling out orders as I did so. Henry ran to saddle my horse as my door closed behind me and I dove into my closet. I threw on a black and white themed riding outfit before racing out the front door and to the stables where my new horse awaited me, prancing in the dirt as I approached.
Oh, but she was a beauty! A beautiful golden-wheat color with a white mane and tail, the lower part of the legs a pale crème color. She would truly be a joy to ride, if I managed to calm her down. Fortunately, Papa is a good horseman and he'd taught me everything he knew. Remembering a particular lesson, I reached for an apple I had snatched on my way out of the house and tucked into a pocket. Pulling out the red treat, I held it in the palm of my hand and waited.
The mare knew an apple when she saw it, and a quick sniff of the fruit told her how fresh and sweet it was. It wasn't long before it was being crunched between her teeth and she was nuzzling my dress to find more hidden treats. I laughed and slowly moved up beside her, trying to think of a name for her.
"You will be…Aurora. But I'll call you Sunny for short," I declared.
Sunny merely snorted as I swung up onto her back and directed her towards the road. It was going to be a good day for a ride, I could tell.
AN: I hope that people enjoyed meeting Clara. Please review and let me know what you thought!