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Andries and I settle in, and the maid flits over to fill our cups and place orange cranberry scones on tiny ceramic plates in front of us. The tea is citrus ginger––not as fragrant as the blooming tea I prefer, but enjoyable, nonetheless. I’ve taught myself to navigate these careful social situations as if doing so has run in my family for generations, but I still feel like I'm acting sometimes.
“How are you two doing?” Margaret asks, sitting her cup down on her saucer. “That was quite the engagement party.”
“Yes,” Andries agrees, giving a quick smile in appreciation. “It took me a few days to get all the alcohol out of my system, but it was a brilliant event. I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”
“I have to say, I had never been to any sort of events at the O’Brian’s before, but my grandson is right when he says it went brilliantly. I was very impressed with it all.”
I smile at the compliment, but something inside me still cringes at the subtle “you’re not like us” message buried in what Margaret had just said. I don’t even think she meant it, but it just comes so naturally to these people to be aware when things just aren’t quite up to par. Thankfully, the engagement party was so successful that I have a feeling it earned my parents and me quite a bit of respect we hadn’t held before.
“The planners should be here shortly,” I inform them after checking the new notification popping up on my phone.
“Andries,” Margaret says, catching his attention once again. “Have you decided if you’re going to invite your parents yet or not? Or are the three of you still at odds?”
He shakes his head. “No, I’m not inviting them. They’ve said some reprehensible things about my bride-to-be, and they refuse to give me their blessing. All of those things considered, I can’t believe that inviting them to the wedding itself will be a good idea. They didn’t even come to the engagement party.”
“And, you’re hurt, of course,” Margaret adds.
Andries looks away, his expression tight. “I guess I am hurt, yes.”
“You have every right to be,” his grandmother points out. “They can’t see past the expectations of what they wanted from your life, so much so that they can’t accept the fact that it is indeedyourlife. Just keep an open mind in case they have a change of heart at the last minute. I do believe that as the date gets closer, your mother is going to wake up and realize how she’s ostracizing her oldest child.” I look at my best friend, nodding mindlessly as his grandmother speaks. “Your father, on the other hand…” She lets her words trail off, and lets out a breath, unsure whether to continue or not. “Well, I don’t know about him, but we will see.”
I’m ready to jump in and change the subject because my friend is looking sadder by the second, but the maid provides a welcome distraction by announcing the arrival of the wedding planners.
Andries stands and offers his grandmother his hand, letting her link her arm through his as we head out into the garden to meet everyone. Margaret’s gardens are a sight to behold, full of prize-winning roses that are probably older than I am, their thorns long, stems thick, and petals bright.
The design team ishuge, including the planners I had hired for the engagement party and Margaret’s picks for additional help. There’s enough of them to make a football team almost, but I can see Andries breathe a sigh of relief. It’s one more thingoff his shoulders. Well, one dozen things maybe, considering how many of them there are.
The chatter between them all becomes so quick-fire that I can’t keep up, not that I want to anyway. My part has been done with the engagement party and the upcoming bachelor trip, so I happily shoulder this one over to Margaret. The older woman looks like she’s glowing as she leads them around, giving expectations and ideas, and it’s now that it hits me that this is her first grandchild to wed, and she gets to help mastermind the whole thing. Even more, the wedding will be at her estate. Margaret must be over the moon.
I fall back and give them some space, following at a bit of a distance but far enough away that I don’t have to give my opinion on anything. It’s a stellar day to just enjoy the sun and air, my hands shoved in my pockets and my face turned to the sky. Lately it’s just been one thing after the other; temptation from Elise, guilt about hiding it from Andries, loneliness knowing that I’m going to be one of the only ones in my group of friends left single and living on my own… so it’s nice to set it aside for a while and just stretch my legs.
After about thirty minutes, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I consider ignoring it, but Andries, Margaret, and the design team have stopped to discuss something, so I go ahead and check it out. I have one message, and it’s from the contact that I asked to get the identity of the man in the picture with Elise. Up until now, I’d almost forgotten that I’d even requested the identification, having been in a fit of emotion and just woken up when I did. But I’m still interested to see who she could be so casual and touchy with.
Hey! So the guy in the photo is none other than Johan from the House of Bentinck. Half-Dutch and Half-British, his family descends directly from the British royal family. He livesin England, though. That’s everything I was able to find. He doesn’t have much of an online presence.
I let the information sink in for a minute, considering what it means. Ahead of me, Margaret is holding court over the most sought-after and expensive wedding planners in the country while her grandson stands beside her, and it’s easy to see how they were born into this world. Just like Johan Bentinck. Me, on the other hand… I’m a different story. Margaret, Andries, and most important to me, Elise, are all nobility. When she chooses a boyfriend, it won’t be someone like me; an up-and-comer. It will be someone like this Johan, who is blue blood to his core. Royalty, even.
It’s just another tidbit of information that makes me feel like an outsider, even though none of these people have ever treated me as such. It’s all in my head, but I can’t help that.
I resist the urge to look up Johan, simply pocketing my phone and staring ahead, wondering what my next move should be. Going to Elise’s birthday will be a mistake, just like everything that happened in the study was a mistake. The question is, am I strong enough to tell her no?
Up ahead, Andries laughs loud enough that I can hear him, and I get the empty feeling of loneliness again. He has his wedding to the love of his life to look forward to, and what do I have? Because to me, it almost feels like nothing at all.
I get home late in the evening, tired even though I did little more than spectate the entire time. The few days after the engagement party have given me some time to relax, but now I have to shift into the next gear and start working on the bachelor trip.Tonight, though, I don’t want to think about any of that. I just want to have a drink and unwind.
I’m barely inside when my maid scurries over, something clutched in her hand. I inhale slowly, trying to not get annoyed at being bothered the very second I enter my home. She holds out the envelope, thick and square, and I pluck it from her fingers.
“This was hand delivered today, sir. The deliverer stressed that it’s important that you receive it as soon as possible.”
“Thank you,” I say absentmindedly, gingerly tearing the side of the envelope and letting the thick card-stock slide out into my hand.
Gold leaf filigree decorates the borders of the invitation, with the calligraphy words being handwritten in ink, not printed. Before I even begin to read it, I know who it’s from. In fact, I feel like I can even smell her perfume, sweet and floral, wafting off of it.
You’re cordially invited to celebrate the 18th birthday of Miss Elise Van den Bosch
June 11th at the Van den Bosch Estate, 8 pm sharp
Formal dress, all white
