"My brother, Theodore, has recently joined a Northern military outfit. That is to say, in plain English, that he's joined the bloody army. Please believe me that when I say it simply I do not mean to insult your intelligence, which I regard to the highest degree, only that I feel very near the end of my rope, at my wit's end, however you may have it.
That feels very odd to write in a letter; almost as though I'm having a one-sided conversation, even though I try to imagine your thoughts as I write.
In any case, you will be the first to hear the startling news. It will be the word in every household, no doubt, that has heard of the Lennox family. I believe you know I don't mean this pompously; only that secrets are never secrets for long when people so love to gossip. You don't; perhaps you pity me. That's good, for I need all the pity I can gather up. I'll store it away and perhaps use it to my advantage one day.
I apologize for the nonsense. I will simply blame it on my longing to speak with a rational, honest, kind-hearted human being again. By this I mean you must come visit me, or give me leave (sooner rather than later) to visit you at your convenience.
Always Sincerely,
Corran Lennox"
Ceci smiled down at the small spiked handwriting. It was silly to be writing letters when they lived only three or four miles apart; still, it was something she had easily learned to enjoy. She rarely received letters of any importance, and even more rarely letters she enjoyed reading. She turned the creased paper around to read,
"Post Script: It is also my pleasure to inform you that I've recently discovered a novel I hope you will greatly appreciate. Do come and borrow it at your convenience. -C.L."
Could she deny herself the pleasure of visiting the mysterious Lennox estate? She tried to deny that such a visit would give her any pleasure. It most certainly would, she knew deep down. And why had she not yet attempted the visit? There was no explanation that sounded at all coherent in Ceci's head. She wished to, but was at the same time afraid. Afraid of what? Who knew? She didn't; she couldn't put her finger on it, wouldn't give the source a name.
Rarely did Ceci ever deliberate over something she wanted. Usually, she took the time in hand to enjoy and didn't think twice. Only recently had she begun to care what people thought of her actions.
The next morning, Mrs. Eleanor Moore strode quietly down the hall past Ceci's open bedroom. "Cecily, Cecilia dear," Mrs. Moore called. (She could never decide if she'd meant to name her daughter Cecilia or simply Cecily and thus called her both.)
Ceci looked up from her seat at the window.
"Frances wants a companion into town. She must go for a new bonnet for church."
Frances called loudly and sourly from down the hall, "No, I don't!"
Mrs. Moore turned to correct her daughter, "yes, my dear, you do."
She turned back to Ceci, but before she could continue, Ceci jumped up from her seat. "I'd be quite happy to walk with Frances, Mama."
Mrs. Moore smiled and turned smartly to continue her journey down the hall.
"Fudge." Frances said as she brushed past Cecil's door.
Heavens! Ceci thought, gazing up at them and throwing her arms wide in gratitude. It was an excuse, though a very far-fetched one, to visit Mr. Lennox at his estate. It was good enough, at least, to convince her crossed and confused feelings on the subject. The estate, she knew, was out of the way from town, but she chose to ignore the fact.
Frances scowled down at her muddy boots. This never bothered Ceci; Frances was rarely seen without a scowl these days.
Frances now looked over at her sister and raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?" she demanded.
"Thanking God," Ceci replied. It sounded like a child's Sunday school reply, but the simplicity of it pleased her.
Frances knew better than to scowl at this, so she simply turned back down to her boots and tried to keep stride with her sister, who was practically trotting.
The sisters parted at an impasse; Ceci traveled over the fences and fields toward the wide open country of Lennox land to its center Estate. Frances didn't bother to wonder where her sister was going; she was always tromping off to odd destinations. Frances simply continued down the muddy road to town; she was more than happy to continue alone.
The land was beautiful. It was rich, green and golden; the shadows fell perfectly with the late afternoon sun and wind stirred the farm pastures in such a way that delighted Ceci. The manor, when she finally caught a first glimpse of it, sent a chill down her spine and along her arms. It was enormously grand, formed completely from dark gray stone and dark red brick. The tall windows seemed to shimmer as they reflected the blue sky. It was very square, and two straight marble pillars framed the doors. Ceci approached them slowly, her mind racing absurdly for some reason to retreat; the grandeur of it all startled her.
She managed to raise a hand to the knocker, but before it made a sound, both doors swung open, and a tall man in deep blue livery gazed down at her. In the same moment, the man was ushered aside, and Corran Lennox replaced him in the doorway.
"Miss Moore," he cried, a steady, ecstatic smile on his face and in his eyes. That was greeting enough.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Lennox. I hope this isn't an inconvenient time?" Ceci replied quietly.
"Oh no. It's a lovely time. I'm so glad you decided to come," he reached out and grasped her hand.
"Thank you for inviting me," she replied, allowing a smile.
Corran led her to the library, commenting on aspects of the manor as they passed.
Ceci stopped at a painting that hung in the tiled hall.
Realizing her following footsteps had stopped, Corran turned and joined her at the painting.
"That is beautiful," Ceci said, as though stating a fact.
It was, in fact, a portrait of Corran's mother. The woman in the painting gazed out of a large window, so that her face was in profile, even as the window reflected her full features. She wore a bold shade of green, and her long dark red hair fell in ripples down her back. Beyond her, the window showed a sky of rusty sunset colors. It was a striking portrait.
"Yes," Corran breathed, his gaze intent on Ceci, who earnestly examined the portrait. She was incredible, he decided, this young lady who stood beside him.
After a long moment or two, they turned back toward the library. Corran fetched his special book for Ceci, who grinned delightedly as she read the spine.
"Careful," Corran told her, "It's a romance, and the heroine is almost too much like you."
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