Idyllic. That’s one word for Celia. You’d never guess that we bore the same genes, what with her being so angelic. The way her hair shifted copper whenever the slightest dampness were made present in the ever humid air, was nothing like my own which was more akin to the deepest ink to not be black. Her eyes held the depths of a thousand souls, and mine not a one. Yet, I was certainly advantaged, for the sharp colors alone could be wrongly translated to one. Though a wise soul would know that murky sage and burgundy meant far more a tainted mind than did those clear eyes who held their gaze without so much as a flinch. 

“Dearest Celia, you know it rude to stare.” She glanced away, as if a small child who’d just been reminded not to speak. 

“But how could I not, with reading so dry as this?” She lamented, “I’d sooner wither of boredom than finish another page.” And with that, the text was thrown to the chaise, having fallen open. Surely the author who’d spent their lifetime’s worth of accomplishments would be appreciative of such treatment. 

“And so you shall, otherwise the governess should like to wither you with her gaze alone. Or perhaps,” I’d given only a moment’s pause, “She should lock you away like those princesses in those tales you enjoy so. Never to see one of your beaus again.” 

“Oh, say it isn’t so! You frighten me, sister, with words such as these.” She fell silent, and stood to fetch the work she’d discarded so graciously before. It was then that the bright azure of her gown caught my attention. 

“Unless...you’ve already made an exchange with another sire?” This particular shade was one that was favored by one of her common partners. Charles, a man who, for as good as his soul was, was unable to retain a relationship past any carnal performance. “Ah, you know that your promiscuity will make a heathen of you yet, Celia.”

“Only if others were to be made aware of it, dearest Elena.” She quipped, having no qualms about her fate. Not that her prospects were poor despite this- the men, and one lady that I saw, who’d bedded her had no fear for their reputation. There was no reputation to damage, or enough wealth to forever keep it intact. That wasn’t as much as I could say about prospects of my own, though I didn’t necessarily go blazing after the first man to possess a whip. Such was not the way of high society; though, if my sister did well for herself, she could certainly stay within that circle, without such rigid limitations. 

“Tis quite a feat that nobody’s caught on yet, dear. Why do you insist on pushing such boundaries?”

“And why should I not? Those who know of my standing only flock to me more, and those who wish nothing from me retain a constant state of denial. You know that,” She raised a brow, tucking her ankles underneath her as she eyed me from behind the weathered pages of that book. 

“I do know that. And yet, I worry for you.” I shifted, so that I now sat on the armchair a few feet’s distance away. 

“Sister, you need not worry at all. I’m far too well taken care of as it is. Rather, I worry for you. Have you not found one suitor interested in courting?”

“Such is you to change the discussion. But I shall appease.” A long sigh escaped my lips, as I eyed her. She who could be so romantic, yet so cold so as to deny a singular relationship of exclusivity lest someone else better come along. “Many suitors have offered a hand, but they don’t also offer their wallets. I’ve no room for emotion with poverty, you ought to know.”

“You lie to yourself, sister. Heads of corporations have pledged to you, and yet you reject them all.” 

The room suddenly was overcome with an odour of roses. I couldn’t stand the stench, far too common a pretense to be at all appealing. “Perhaps I should like a prince, now you really should open the door before Charles has to knock.”

“And a prince you shall have!” She declared, before smoothing out her skirt, and sauntering over to the parlor entrance, throwing wide the door before the suspended cane could knock against the carved oak. And the man attached at the other end seemed shocked, though no doubt he’d acclimate himself to it in time. 

At that I took my leave, curtsying quickly to the lean man, who’d never capped six feet in height, and likely never should. I’d far rather be long away from home- the walls were only so thick, and my patience so thin. 

Stepping out, the door shut behind me with a certain deafness. As if promising of a bleak evening.