Anna 466Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4qHj7A8qFI
466Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2mbqM13hZk
Her dress was tight, tighter than what she felt was comfortable. But her mother insisted. Her mother insisted on a lot of things, in fact. She insisted that Anna wear he silken slippers, no matter how tight and how they squished her toes. She insisted on the numerous tea parties, and there was absolutely no argument when it came to the many suitors. It had been about a month since the last, a boy with silver hair and grey eyes. He’d been the most interesting of them all, even an odd sort of kind. But there was something terribly disjointed, something that distanced him from her. From everything, and everyone. For that, her mother had found him unsuitable for the likes of a Feyre.
There was to be another suitor arrive at the estate today, but they came and went so often Anna had quickly loss the capacity to care enough to learn his name or title. She lay under the covers in her silk nightgown, watching the first morning rays begin to slip through the window and under the curtains.
Day in day out, the talk of tea and fortunes is driving me simply insane.
With a grunt Anna threw off the silk sheets and a golden thread cover. Getting out of the bed she staggered slightly thanks to the height, shaking her brown curls free from a braid. Fast as she could Anna dressed in opal trousers woven specifically for her and a dark, mossy green linen top. The morning would be chilly, that much she could tell by the frost lining the window and the bite in the rooms air. The fall wasn't exceptionally heavy, so the path to her greenhouse wouldn't be impossible to find in the light of the early morning sun.
Anna tugged on a woollen cloak, thick, warm and dyed a fine navy blue trimmed with gold satin and a hummingbird embroided on the back.
The real challenge will be not waking father, as mother could probably sleep through the end of the world.
Anna opened the glass doors to her balcony, and pulled her cloak tighter at the cold kiss of a sudden wind. Her legs shaking slightly Anna mounted the granite barrier surrounding the balcony and looked down. Her room was located on the very top floor of The Archibald Manor House, which made the climb all the way down the manor wall a long and high one.
Swallowing her fear, Anna took hold of one of the vines of the ivory growing against the trestle that arched around the face of the manor. She shuffled her feet into the trestle gaps and made her way down, one vine to the next, one gap after the other. About half way down Anna found that her hands had begun to stiffen from the cold.
Damn…I really should’ve… worn some gloves…
As quick as she could manage Aria clambered down and landed on the soft, pillowy blanket of snow. Cloak gliding over the powdery white and thick black boots crunching deep footfalls Anna made her way over to the greenhouse. It wasn’t too far out from the manor house but not too close, just the perfect distance for Anna to stay the prying eyes of the household staff. Frost kissed the green-tinged window panes of the greenhouse, and she had to yank open the stiff lock to throw open the door. The climb had been frightening, just as much as the possible fit of spittle-filled rage her mother might get into discovering her climbing like that, but being here in the cosy warmth and company of her flowers Anna always knew it was worth the risk.
Despite the weather, despite the season Anna still nurtured a glass house full of flowers that couldn’t possibly survive in weather such as this. Six tall tables bordered with metal, netted steel trays from top to bottom inhabited the greenhouse, each with a different flower calling it home. Lining the bottom of every table sat clay pots of sunflowers, yellow and round-faced as could be.
For every boy that had arrived at the manor to try and win her hand Anna had had to find a way to keep her mind entertained during such monotonous meetings that grated her mind inch by inch.
“Think of something that entertains you then simply meld it with something that doesn’t. It’ll help keep you from going insane during those endless social engagements,” This had been the words of careful advice her father had shared with her. Anna took that advice to heart, and so for every betrothed that had shown up on her door she would make a game of what kind of flower matched their likenesses. These were the same flowers that now grew inside her greenhouse. The sunflowers she had chosen for a soft, gullible and yellow-haired boy by the name of Atticus Mandry. The lavenders growing in the first table reflected the personality of one Isiah Ilrond. Sweet-scented and faintly pretty, but dull and easily breakable. The bluebells to the lavender tables left belonged to Asher Gillock, good to look at but nothing else. The table of red roses reflected Oscar Welby, a fine proper boy that had seemed to be everything at first but nothing more than poisonous as he was sweet. All of them, turned down at her behest and at her mother’s fury that grew fiercer and fiercer with every proposition she turned down. Yet it was her father that would always have the last word, and her father trusted her more than he probably should.
Despite her fifteen years Anna’s father understood that she was more alike him, and so far all Anna had in common with her mother was that fact that they were both female.
Whether I like it or not, I cannot wane father’s trust to a thread. I need to find a suitable husband, and whether he be stupid it matters not, I only need the coin in his purse to continue my father’s and eventually my own work.
Her father had trusted her so much that he had shared with Anna the one thing that had allowed her to grow these flowers, an extraction agent, that to the rest of the world was non-existent and at best the stuff of fairy tales.
To tend to her flowers o’ legend, Anna pushed her hummingbird bird cowl back and took a watering can from the corner of the greenhouse where she kept most of her gardening utensils. She quickly stopped short when the sounds of soft footfalls echoed from the other end of the greenhouse by the Cherry blossom tree that had begun to grow up along the roof, sending the pink petals softly raining down and scattering amongst the wooden floorboards. Anna instantly ducked down, sliding her black boots off. Listening close, it seemed this person was a he and he was alone, muttering to himself in a curious fashion.
“So…this is her famous workshop? If this is my wife to be…at least she’ll be interesting unlike the rest…” He muttered under his breath, reaching up to catch a few of the pink petals between his black gloved fingers. He had his back to Anna, but she could summarise who he was easily enough. Combing a hand through her oaken curls she stood.
“Suppose this is the new way of courting a lady, simply walk into their personal space and suppose she’ll prove to be entertaining at least?” Anna said flatly, sitting on the white marble mouth of the round pond sitting at the heart of the greenhouse were white lilies floated about peacefully and crossing her leg in indignation.
“Suppose this is new in-fashion activity of young gentle born ladies this new day?” He said with an eyebrow raised, turning around to face without a hint of a reaction to her silver tongue. He wore a navy blue coat that brushed the heels of his supple, black leather boots polished with care and a trimmed black vest atop a finely cut black undershirt. His eyes were like pools of sapphire moonlight, rippling and smooth at the same time. Black and blue. Now, what kind of flower was black and blue –
“Trying to size me up, are you? Trying to figure what kind of man I am from something so simple as appearance? You don’t even know my name and you’ve already decided you don’t like me,” He said, smiling lightly but his smugness poured from his every pore in his face.
“Granted you won’t know everything from one’s appearance, but there are plenty of things one can tell from how a man carries himself, how he walks and how he dresses himself,” Anna replied, standing her ground.
“My name is Luke Atlow by the way, and I assume you're Annabelle Feyre. And…does the same thing not apply to ladies?” The young lordling Atlow said, plucking two roses from their table.
Anna took a moment to consider this.
“Of course, everyone judges everyone. But that's besides the point of why you decided to just intrude on my lab?” She asked, watching Luke as he picked a bunch of bluebells.
“Curiosity, if I'm being honest. I'd heard word about this place, about the place where the most beautiful of flowers bloomed all year round. Some say you’re a miracle worker, others call you a witch. As ever I’m curious, which one are you?” He asked, stopping to admire the sunflowers for a moment.
“I’m neither, I’m a scientist. And a woman scientist isn’t no freak to be beheld mind you, there’s been plenty before me,” Anna said with confidence.
“Aye, there’s been plenty of scientists,” Luke said, swaggering up to her with a bunch of her own flowers in hand. He extended the bunch of flowers with a soft smile.
“But there’s not been a lady like you.”
Anna took the bunch of flowers, and then and there decided that there was no flower nor anything so charming that could match Atlow’s likeness.466Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbONPL7INnk
