Daisies

The chair she sat on was an intricately carved piece of woodwork upholstered with the finest silk in all of Europe dyed a brilliant blue. She’d loved it when Gerard had brought it home from one of his frequent visits to the Italian coast, but now she was beginning to despise it. Not for reasons of physical comfort, no. The chair was plush in all the right places, perfect for hours of sitting perfectly poised, staring straight ahead. But for each hour that she stared, her repulsion for the disgustingly gorgeous piece of furniture multiplied.

Her foot tapped anxiously under her hoop skirt. She wrung her hands together as she stared forward, eyes unblinking. She tried to focus on Gerard’s strong hand resting on her shoulder. He gave it a squeeze and her eyes flitted towards him. At that moment, she allowed herself to breathe. She knew that she was supposed to stay as still as the statues that lined their gardens, but it was getting to be unbearable. Truthfully, it had been unbearable the instant she sat down. But the wedding portrait needed to be done.

****

Her wedding day had been elaborate, even to her family’s standards. It had also been the hottest summer day any of them could remember. Gerard’s mother had insisted that Adalaide wear a silken white dress woven and pieced together in Spitalfields, “made by those who dressed the queen.” Adalaide still remembered the way her future husband’s mother beamed as she held up the gown, the way her own mother had joined in. And the dress truly was a work of art with sashes and lace interlocking all across the bodice and skirt.

It had taken three handmaidens to help her into the gown. It looked stunning on her, the stark white of the piece making her own cream-colored skin look not so pale and lifeless. The apples of her cheeks were flushed and her dark hair curled around the floral headpiece her mother had chosen for her, one with the finest roses and daisies scattered throughout. Her future mother-in-law scoffed at the thought, but Adalaide’s mother was insistent. The daisies reminded her of simpler times, from before she had married into wealth.

“Do not ever lose that,” she whispered in Adalaide’s ear. “Do not forget to find joy in the simple things. It will make your marriage thrive.” She kissed her on the cheek before slipping out of the room to head for the chapel. Adalaide was left alone to look at herself in the mirror.

She was the epitome of the perfect bride. And yet, she looked at herself in the mirror and felt her stomach weaken.

****

Gerard had noticed the movement in her eyes, the way her head had titled.“Adalaide,” he whispered. “Turn those pretty little eyes of yours forward. Every detail matters, my dear.”

She could hear the smile tugging at his lips, and despite herself, her heart beat a little faster. Their marriage hadn’t been long, and it had been far from perfect, but she had it better than most. Gerard was devilishly handsome, and he did seem to care for her.

He nudged her again and she turned her attention back to the front and her beating heart stopped in its tracks sending her hurling along with it. She cast her gaze downward at her writhing hands. They were close to being swallowed by her skirt and the mound of white silk and lace that adorned it.

****

A few years ago her father had surprised her with a summer in France. They spent most of their time in a chateau by Lake Annecy. It was a truly stunning sight: the blue water sparkling like a million diamonds, the grand stone estates in the distance, the elegant people dressed in the latest styles. But above all, the girl next door had caught her eye and was refusing to let go.

****

Gerard was in Italy more often than not. His business took him there, he said. Even after the year they had been married, Adelaide had no idea what his business was. What did he have to do across Europe that he couldn’t do right here in London?

One night at supper curiosity got the best of her. “What is it that your business does?”

The clacking of silver on china stopped. Gerard jerked his head up towards her.”What?” He still had food in his mouth.

“Your business. I have no idea what you do all day. Why do you go to Italy?” She hadn’t planned on adding the last bit, but it seemed fitting.

He slowly lowered his fork. “Italy is beautiful this time of year.” He then launched into an exaggerated epic of a boyhood trip. Adalaide laughed along and shared some of her own childhood stories. For once it felt as if they were a real couple. Even so, she couldn’t help but notice that none of her questions were answered.

Later that night, he left. The staff had turned to their rooms and Adalaide was left alone in the vast emptiness of the estate. Her mind refused to let go of his redirection from earlier. He was hiding something.

Adalaide rifled through his nightstand. She came across a pile of papers that she had never seen before, each on a watermarked stationery with gorgeous strokes of ink. Adalaide thumbed through the pile until a heading caught her eye. Mi amore.

Adalaide swallowed hard trying to keep the bile from rising in her throat. Her husband was allowed to have an affair: it was almost expected in their society. But she could not. Her mother had worked too hard for Adalaide to just throw her position away. And yet her core still throbbed with a slow, dull ache, veins flowing with jealousy, for her husband as allowed to have what she could not.

****

She watched the painter give Gerard a brief half-smile and watched as it faded when her attention turned back to the painting. She looked as beautiful as she had the day Adalaide had left her. Her honey-blonde hair refused to stay contained in it’s updo and little curls and chunks of frizz had been popping out at the edges all day. Adalaide had tried not to look, but her deep brown eyes pulled her in every time. And when she managed to dodge their grasp her slender fingers gripping the brush commanded her attention. The way her dress fit just so along the small of her back and hung down, accentuating her voluptuous hips and the curve of her waist. Ignoring her had been impossible these past few days, but looking at her was too much, so Adalaide resorted to staring at her hands as she fidgeted with the lace applique that rested on her thigh.

****

It was almost time for her to walk into the ceremony. She stared at the doors just as they were about to open. How she wished they would remain sealed, a tall, oak shield. Gerard was nice enough from the few times they had met. Then again, most men appeared to be gentlemen at first. She had adored her friend Elizabeth’s husband. Then Elizabeth showed up to tea with a badly covered bruise under her eye.

Her palms began to sweat in her satin gloves, and she prayed they wouldn’t soak through. It felt as if half the city were here. But still, she stood there adorned in lace and pearls and couldn’t truly feel the presence of anyone.

****

She could see herself in the glass of the tall bay windows in the sitting room, her face lit up with flames. Her eyes were wild, hair free and tangled. The sleeves of her nightgown refused to stay up and she had given up on trying, so they sat slumped down on her shoulder. In her hands were those letters. The letters she found in her husband’s nightstand with the beautiful penmanship. He had broken his promise to her, to stay faithful. Not only had he declared it in front of hundreds, but he had sworn to her that night. That she was his one and only for the rest of their lives. Adalaide wasn’t about to break a sacred promise like that, no matter how often that summer flitted across her mind.

One by one, she threw the letters into the fire and watched them light. They curled in at the corners as the flames licked at their edges. The fire continued to eat at the pages until they had been overtaken by the charred darkness. Eventually, they crumbled into ash. Adalaide sat there, staring at the empty hearth, long after the fire had died.

****

“I want to see it,” Gerard burst out.

Adalaide sighed. “Not again,” she murmured. This was the fifth time they were getting their wedding portrait painted. Every time prior he had found something wrong. His nose was too big. Her eyes were too wide. The dress didn’t sit that way. His shoes were all wrong.

“Perdono?” came from behind the easel. “Pardon?”

Gerard strode across the room, pushing her out of the way. “We have been posing for days. I would very much like to see what for.”

She looked towards Adalaide, searching for a reaction. A smile played at Adalaide’s lips and she had to bite down on one to suppress it.

“It’s perfect,” he said.

“It is not done.”

Adalaide closed her eyes and listened to the rich velvety sound of her voice. It washed over her, and she wished she could die then and there surrounded by its melody.

“You have managed to capture my wife in a way no one has before,” Gerard murmured. “It is perfect. See darling?”

She startled up, eyes flying open, and was face to face with herself. More definition was needed on her arms and skirt. But the questioning crane of her neck, the deep void in her eyes, the soft tumble of her hair, it was all unmistakably herself.

****

It was a warm day outside. Adalaide lay in a meadow of white flowers, watching the girl paint.

“So what’s an Italian girl doing in the middle of France?”

The girl put down her brush. “What’s a young English maiden doing in the middle of France?” Her eyes sparkled with laughter, and her deep blonde hair swayed in the breeze.

Adalaide supposed she had a point. Although, with those eyes she didn’t really need one. Adalaide tried not to stare, to keep her thoughts to herself. She had been doing so the past few weeks the two of them had been chatting. She was staying next door and the two of them seemed to cross paths every day. This was entirely intentional on Adalaide’s part. The girl had the most entrancing accent, was smart and beautiful, and had a laugh that could bring the world to its knees.

She wanted to tell her all of this, but that would be far too brash, so she settled with something far safer.

“I don’t think I caught your name.”

The girl smiled, returning her focus to the canvas. “Diana.”

“Diana.” Adelaide liked the way it sounded on her lips.

“You’re beautiful,” Diana blurted out.

Adalaid’s mouth fell open, shocked. “Excuse me?”

The apples of Diana’s cheeks bloomed a soft pink. “I mean, you have a beautiful voice.”

“As do you,” she responded, feeling her own cheeks heat up.

She replayed that moment in her head for the rest of the day.

****

Gerard moved to put the painting back on the easel. As he did so, Adalaide caught Diana’s eyes and let herself stay. Her heart calmed, she hadn’t even realized it was fast, and her shaking leg steadied. Memories of white wildflowers and crystal lakes and tresses of honey-blonde hair flashed before her. She wanted to stay lost there forever.

****

Much to her dismay, the formidable doors did in fact open and her wedding begun. The pews were packed with suits and gowns and mounds of jewelry. And at the end of the endlessly long aisle stood her new husband. Gerard. The name felt foreign and choppy on her lips. She raised her gaze to meet his eyes, hoping to find some semblance of comfort, hope, solace.

She found nothing.

****

When she confronted him about the letters, his eyes were apologetic. When she shoved the pile of ashes towards him, any sense of remorse left his gaze and was replaced by a white hot anger. Adelaide understood his anger. She would feel the same . Furious that something so precious was lost to her.

****

Gerard returned to his place behind her, hand on her shoulder. Diana’s eyes flitted back to her palette. Adelaide’s leg bounced.

****

He didn’t look at her for a week after she burnt his letters. Eventually, he came around and apologized, pulling her into his arms. He murmured sweet nothings against her hair, promising her he was hers forever. She didn't believe him. She never had and feared she never would be. The thought hurt, that she would never truly belong to her husband.

****

Adalaide didn’t remember much of her walk down the aisle. Her head was swimming the entire way and if her father hadn’t been standing next to her she would have collapsed. Faces she didn’t recognize peered at her as the statues of saints loomed at her from above. Gerard gave her a soft smile as she neared. He kept looking over at her throughout the ceremony with a gentle grin that didn’t fully cover his face. She missed Diana’s smiles, the kind that started in her eyes.

****

Gerard’s hand on her shoulder was no longer comforting. She was tired of being touched. Tired of being in this chair. Tired of being so close to her and not able to do anything about it. All she wanted to do was collapse onto the cool, hard floor and sob to her heart’s content.

“Almost done,” Diana said from in front.

Adelaide’s heart sank. As painful as these sessions had been, the thought of them coming to a close was worse.

****

Adelaide and Gerard were standing before the pulpit. Adalaide wanted to turn around and run far, far away. Her heart was pounding and her blood was rushing to her ears. It was hard to keep her head on straight and the world felt like it was wobbling away.

The priest turned to Gerard. “Thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony?”

Gerard’s soft smile returned to his face. It wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t Diana, but even so, Adalaide wanted to strangle him, or better yet, stab him with one of her hair pins. Instead of doing either, she tried to give him a smile back.

“Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I do.”

Adalaide sucked in a breath and turned to look at the sea of people that sat before them. This really was happening. They were making vows to each other. Vows that all these people would witness, vows that God would witness. Once she made these vows there would be no going back.

****

Diana turned around the final portrait. It was absolutely stunning.

Gerard squeezed her shoulder. “Isn’t it beautiful, darling?”

“Beautiful,” Adalaide agreed. But she couldn’t bear to look at the painting.

****

Rain drummed on the roof. It had woken Adalaide from her slumber, and she shifted in her bed, letting the blankets swallow her whole. They felt like a warm embrace against her naked body. She lazily blinked her eyes a few times, adjusting to the feeling of being awake. The room was still dark from the storm clouds outside. Diana lay to her right. Adalaide allowed herself to smile into the darkness at the thought of Diana in her bed, of the things they had done the night prior.

Looking past her lover’s sleeping form, Adalaide could see to the bedside table. Diana had propped up the picture she had painted that day in the field of flowers. Diana had managed to capture the never-ending feeling of that meadow perfectly in a single image. How many pieces of her life she would be able to keep that would otherwise be lost?

Next to her, Diana stirred. “Good morning,” she mumbled as she rolled over. The blanket fell to the side as she did.

Adalaide reached out and placed a hand on her cheek. “Good morning la mia margherita.”

Diana closed her eyes and smiled as Adelaide ran her fingers across her jawline.

She closed her eyes trying to hold onto the feeling, hoping it would stay with her forever.

****

She had finished the painting. Gerard had gotten up to walk her out while Adalaide remained planted in her seat. She watched Diana walk towards the door and her soul ached. She wanted to jump up and run out with her, even if that meant forsaking her faith. True, they had only spent a summer together, but there was more passion in that summer than in the entire duration of her marriage.

Gerard looked at Diana. “Perhaps we could get you back to compose our anniversary portraits in a few years.”

Diana nodded. “That, I could do.”

He turned towards Adalaide. “What do you think of that, Darling?”

She knew that she wouldn’t be able to sit through another agonizing week just looking at Diana, pretending not to know her, doing nothing. Adalaide closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She feared she had made the wrong choice a year ago and wasn’t about to do it again.

“I would like that very much,” she said, allowing a smile to spread across her face.