Five Sisters (2 page)

Back at the lake, Mary's four younger sisters were relaxing and enjoying the wonderful weather.

Sara, the second oldest with nineteen years behind her, was sitting beneath a large beech tree with her back against the trunk and her nose stuck in a book. She'd already read this particular novel several times before, but she never seemed to tire of it; her love of reading surpassed all other amusements and she lost herself each time she entered the world of fiction. Her long, dark brown hair was parted on the side and pulled back in a ponytail and one could barely see her dark eyes for they were looking downward and hidden beneath black lashes. In appearance, she was a rather ordinary girl, but one most certainly could not describe her as ugly. Nevertheless, she found little pleasure in men and courtships. Sara could never find a man quite as wonderful as the ones she read about in books.

In the distance, if she shielded her eyes from the sun, she could just make out the figures of her sisters.

Leonora and Emmeline had removed their shoes, tied back their hair, and hiked up their skirts to wade in the lake's cool water.

Nora held a net in one hand and was trying to catch minnows, completely unaware that they were so small they could simply escape through the holes of her net, while Emy stood a few feet away, walking through the water lilies and humming a little tune as her toes rubbed against the lake's tiny pebbles.

Only one year separated the sisters, for Nora was sixteen and Emy was fifteen. While their hair was similar in its color, a light, chestnut brown, Nora's was thick and straight and Emy's was soft and wavy. Nora stole her eyes from Sara, dark and brown, while Emy's resembled Mary's, a bright, beautiful blue. And their personalities were as different as good could be. Like a lovesick teenager, sociable Nora adored walking into town with her sisters to search the streets for handsome men. But Emy, reserved and shy, could only blush and drop her head when attention was brought upon her.

Several meters away in a field of blowing grass, the youngest sister, Abigail, was running around wildly in an attempt to get her kite into the air. The lively, fourteen-year-old girl was still rather like a child, always searching for amusement with no thoughts towards beaux or marriage or love. Letting the tail fly behind her, with bows in colors of pink, orange, and violet, Gail threw the kite into the air and ran, holding onto the end of the string with all her might. Her auburn locks flew about her madly, like excitable red flames, and her soft brown eyes seemed to laugh as she watched the kite fly higher and higher till it almost seemed to touch the clouds.

Although none of the St. James sisters could be considered unattractive, the only true beauty was Mary. The others, I believe, were rather ordinary and plain. And despite the horrible deaths of their parents, the girls tried their best to recover from the tragedy and continue on with their lives as well as they could. They thought of their poor parents often though, as should be expected, and wondered what life would have been like were they still alive. Now, the sisters spent their days in a tiny house with their only income being the money left behind by their parents and donations from their relatives.

Across from Sara, another young man, Brook Lindsey, was lounging against a tree with his knees bent. He was the cousin of Mary's Ethan, but yet looked nothing like him in appearance. While Ethan was rather short and
more fit
, Brook was tall, thin, and lanky. His skin was pale white and atop his head sat a shock of hair as black as the night sky. His hazel eyes continually glanced from the girl sitting opposite him to a notebook that lay on his knees, where he was using a charcoal pencil to portray her on the paper.

Mary had always hoped Sara would someday fall in love with handsome Brook, for she thought them a perfect match, but Sara wouldn't have it. She liked Brook, of course, but only as a friendly companion and not as a beau. But no matter how many times Sara assured Mary that she didn't fancy Brook and didn't want to marry him, Mary still believed there was hope and enjoyed playing the matchmaker and inviting him along for outings to the park or dinners at the house when Ethan was coming as well.

Sara suddenly looked up from her book with a glimmer of suspicion in her eyes.

"You're drawing me, aren't you?" she accused of Brook, anger in her voice.

"How could I not? You make such a lovely model when you're reading so contently."

"But I told you I hate it when you do so," Sara groaned, "I don't like you staring at me when I'm not aware of it."

"So you wouldn't mind it if you were aware of it?" Brook mused.

"I mind it either way!"

"Since I'm almost done, won't you at least go back to your story and let me finish? It's really quite good, I think. You'll like it, I'm sure."

"I detest any drawing of myself," said she, "No matter how talented the artist is or how much he changes my appearance to make it more beautiful on the page, I hate it. And you know that, Brook!"

"Yes, but I just couldn't resist such an opportunity."

Sara sighed, but a small grin escaped her lips, "I'll try to return to my book so you can finish, but you'd better do it quickly!"

Brook agreed and set to work, adding a few last strokes to her hair and reconstructing the folds of her skirt. When the picture was completed he held it up for Sara to see, and she couldn't help but smile.

"It's very nice, Brook," she admitted, "But I still don't like to act as your model!"

"Very well, very well.
I shall use your sisters from now on, though it's not quite so easy. Mary's always running off with Ethan and Gail can't sit still for more than a moment. Nora finds it all rather boring and Emy is so bashful she can't bear to have me staring at her."

"Well I'm not much better am I?"

Brook shrugged, "I'll admit it's not easy when you're constantly refusing, but if I catch you at a moment when you're so enraptured in a novel that you don't even notice what's going on around you,
it's
not terribly difficult."

Sara sighed, "Well that's the last drawing you're getting of me for a long while, Brook Lindsey."

"We shall see, my dear. We shall see."

At that moment, Nora came running up to the pair with her net held out in front of her. Inside it, a greenish-gray fish was thrashing around uncomfortably, wishing he were back in the lake's cool water.

"Look Sara! Brook!" she called, "I caught a fish! Can you believe it? And I didn't even have a pole!"

She stood between them and held out the net with a grin.

"Very nice," said Sara, "But keep it away from my book, he's getting the pages all wet!"

Brook set down his notebook to get a better look, "Good catch, Leo," he said, eyeing the poor carp, "But if you keep him out beneath this warm sun for too long he'll die. He needs the water to breathe."

"I know, I know," Nora assured, "But wouldn't it be nice if I could keep him as a pet?"

As she headed back to the lake to return the dying fish to his home, Sara began to read again while Brook found a new page in his notebook and began looking around
himself
for something else to draw. He was considering the forest, gazing at the aspen trees and debating whether it would take too long to sketch all those skinny, white trunks, when Mary appeared in the distance. She was running towards Brook and Sara from the woods, her straw hat in her hand and a grin upon her face. Ethan walked casually behind her, wearing a sheepish smile with his hands in his pockets.

Brook set down his art supplies and stood up, placing a hand to his forehead to shield the sun, and Sara soon followed. She knew instantly that something odd was going on. Ladylike Mary would never run wildly across the grass without good reason.

"'Something wrong?"
Brook called out, for he couldn't see the wide smile spread across Mary's face.

"No!" Mary laughed, "Of course not! Everything is perfect!
Absolutely perfect!"

Sara raised an eyebrow and looked curiously towards Brook, but he simply shrugged.

By this time, the three younger sisters had seen Mary and heard her shouts as well. Gail was sprinting over with her kite still flying behind her and Nora was close behind. Emy, attempting to dry off her shins as she walked, was still near the lake but moving as quickly as she could.

"What's happened?" Gail panted to Mary, dropping her kite beside her, "You don't seem yourself."

Mary slowed her pace as she came nearer, her face flushed and her dark curls surrounding her face like a halo. All four of her younger sisters, as well as Brook, stood silently, staring at her and Ethan and wondering had happened to make them both so giddy. But Mary would say nothing and only giggled, turning around apprehensively to wait for Ethan. He was several meters behind her, his head dropping bashfully and his hands still stuffed in his pockets. But once he'd reached her, he took her hand and lifted his head to reveal eyes that were bright and alit.

Bouncing back on his heels and squeezing Mary's hand, he exclaimed happily, "Mary and I are getting married!
" .

CHAPTER 2

Charlie Wilkie

After discussing the situation that evening, both Ethan and Mary agreed that it would be best for everyone if all five St. James sisters moved to Brighton, since that was where the couple would be living once they'd married. The four younger sisters wouldn't be without money, that way, and Mary could still live close to her four dearest friends.

The Lindseys, a rather wealthy family indeed, had already been living in Brighton for some time. They owned a pretty little house in the countryside, surrounded by green hills and fresh air, as well as several lumber mills, off of which Ethan's father had made his small fortune. And now, for their son and future daughter, they were instructing the building of a new, rather quaint house only a short distance from their own.

Ethan had wrote of the matter to his parents a week or so before proposing, and they had agreed that the Mary's sisters could reside in their pleasant and spacious home until they found husbands of their own in the coming years. With such an attractive future ahead, where they would be living with two very kind people and Mary not so very far away, the sisters looked forward to arriving at their new home.

Brook would soon be leaving Laraford as well, though he wasn't heading to Brighton. Instead, he would be attending an art school in a town near Brighton called Clarendon. It was a busy town with hundreds of occupied buildings and a flourishing river running through the center. Studying at the art institute, located in the center of the city, Brook looked forward to the mad rush and exciting life of the city. Most of all, he hoped to someday paint along the Montgomery Bridge, where many famous artists had gotten their start and showcased their work. They gathered along the bridge with their canvases and paints and brushes, painting pictures for all to see and admire.
Both amateurs and successful painters alike.
Ever since he'd been a child, drawing scribbles with his pencils, Brook had dreamed of painting along the Montgomery Bridge. And hopefully, within a few months, he would have the chance to do so.