Thread: Southern Girl [ Ariamella & Reydan ]

RE Southern Girl Ariamella Reydan Camilla fixed her cousin with an odd gaze for a moment or two before returning to flicking through her design book. Really she murmured, half to herself, I would rather be decorating a nursery. But Virgil and I seem...cursed. She looked down at her hands. At the slender gold wedding band that tied her to her husband. She was fond of Virgil, very fond at times, but she doubted if she had ever truly loved him. Her betrothed, Elijah, a member of her church in Boston and a true abolitionist believer and upstanding middle-class Yankee, had been killed in the first months of the war. Shot in northern Virginia somewhere. She had cried for weeks, sobbing into her pillow, and had never truly let him go. Oh Virgil was sweet, charming, and reminded her more than a little of Elijah. But he was different and, she thought ruefully, she would never be able to stop measuring him against her first love. She smoothed the design book on her knees, resolving to be a little more kind to her husband that evening. He had not even blanched at the idea of bringing her cousin into their home, happy to do whatever she needed. She glanced over at Lucille with a smile. My husband's business partner is coming to dinner with his wife and children this evening she said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice at the mention of the word children. It will be fairly informal, Lucille, so don't feel the need to change into anything ostentatious, but we would like you to attend. That said, she bustled off to take care of the organisation required for dinner. -------------------------------------------------------------------- They are here! called Virgil, who had locked himself in his study all day and buried himself in work, from the main hall. The carriage disgorged Harold Benson, his rough and ready Ohio business partner, his slender celtic wife Sinead, and their three little red-headed children. Harold he smiled, clasping hands with his friend. Harold Benson had been a fellow officer in his regiment, trailing around the Western Theatre with him and toughing out all manner of campaign horrors. After the war they had taken up a long discussed plan to go into business together. Aware after years of marching of what made a decent boot. Sinead smiled warmly at him. She had been one of the workers in the factory, something that rankled a little with Camilla who clung to class distinction like a suit of armour, and Virgil had been instrumental in pushing her and Harold together. Better they marry, he told his wife whenever she brought it up, than he ruin her as a kept woman. That always annoyed Camilla but, deep down, Virgil firmly believed in it. Now, with Lucy's appearance and the memories that stirred up, he wondered if his actions had not been a little inspired by his guilty conscience. Good evening my darling Sinead said softly, kissing his cheek, as her children tangled around his legs. So nice of you to have us. He swept up the youngest child, a girl of five named Eliza, and held her giggling before him. And how big are you now? Shooting up like a little beanpole! he grinned, his Southern accent trickling in as he laughed, and the girl giggled again before pointing over his shoulder. Who's that? she said in her soft breathy childish voice, her little arm jabbing towards the staircase, She's so beautiful. He turned, holding her in his arms, to see a vision of Southern beauty come down the stairs. His heart caught in his throat. Yes he murmured so she is.