Next Life

My body is shaking relentlessly. I moan and shift in my seat but its so rigid and uncomfortable. I open my eyes and blink several times. Scared, I sit straight up to find a young girl sitting across from me looking outside the window rather enthusiastically.

"Look Genevieve, we are almost there! I see Aunt Louisa's giant house."

I look down and notice the light-blue gown with an empire waist, making me appear bustier. My hand follows the length, reaching all the way down to my shoes. Just then my hair falls over my shoulders and lands inches above my lap. Each minute and shake of the carriage brings more meaning, looking across again, I gaze at the sweet face.


Enough already! How many parts are in this dream before I finally get up? I'm curious though...


Please, ask what day it is. Please?


"Nancy, what day is it?"


"Have you forgotten already, Sis? It is the day before my birthday."


That doesn't answer my question!


You, Genevieve, remind yourself the day again.


"But of course, I could never forget you were born the 25 of August."


Dare I ask what year this is?

"I'm so glad Aunt Louisa let us come visit her estate for the weekend. What a birthday I shall have!"


"Did I bring my brushes?" Genevieve utters.


"Yes, I saw you pack them in your bags. . . what do you think they will look like?" Nancy asks in wonder.


"Who?"


"Our cousins, Edward and Phillip. Mama says the last time Edward saw me I was but an infant. Do you not remember them?"


"Vaguely I am afraid, but I guess we shall see soon," I pat her knee and smile endearingly.


I have a suspicion but I'll remain silent before I speak too soon.


The carriage approaches Avebury Manor along with the welcome committee. An older man helps us out and proceeds to carry our bags. The woman whom I assume to be Aunt Louisa envelopes the both of us in her arms and guides us inside. She introduces each maid, cook and steward, it's hard to remember the names but Nancy and Genevieve smile and wave politely.


There's piano practice in an hour but until then we are to settle in our rooms, separate rooms. It seems as though my dream has traveled back in time due to Anne's bedtime story. Genevieve enters one of the dormitories and quickly seeks through her bags, taking out a few art supplies and paper. She's a painter. I'm suddenly curious to what images my mind would create for her canvas.


"Genevieve, pssst!" I hear a mouse from the crack of our door. "Come, let us go explore the library before our lesson."


"That sounds like a brilliant idea!" I twirl and grab her sister's hand as we skip in search of the west wing. I love books!


We walk speedily down the corridor and Nancy won't stop giggling, which makes me giggle just as much. There's something so comfortable about this one, I feel it stronger than I did with Susan or Anne.


"Must be that door!" Genevieve announces and we both push against the strong burgundy frames, which are heavier than I expected.


Are you supposed to feel this tired in a dream? Come to think of it, what are the boundaries of all senses in here?


Stumbling in we immediately bite our tongue and widen our eyes. There's two gentlemen sitting at the table, one appears to be the tutor while the younger one scowls. I hold Nancy's hand tight as we walk ever so quietly past the desk. We hide behind the first bookshelf and laugh silently. Nancy places a hand over her mouth and stomach while I hold my cheeks.


There's not much time to scan through each bookself. Though I wouldn't mind coming back later. We part ways and agree to meet back at the same spot once we count up to two hundred.


"Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen..." Genevieve counts slowly as her finger glides over the book bindings. Our movements are in sync, I ponder how similar we actually are. Her long locks feel like home.


She stops, thinking she's been spotted when I was too distracted to notice. I feed off her paranoia of being watched. Counting quietly, she walks around and sees no one. Odd. Turning around, the feeling gets stronger and Genevieve pauses. I start back at a hundred to help her find her place again until she sees movement behind us.


"Nancy? Is that you?" She whispers and tiptoes to the end.


"I have not seen you around here before," a voice startles.


"It is impolite to sneak up on someone like that!" Genevieve places her hand over her chest to calm her nerves.


"Oh but it is polite to disrupt a lad's teaching?"


"I was not aware that this was a private library."


Walk closer, I can't see him.


"Well it belongs to my mother, I suppose she has extended her charity work by allowing peasants to visit now," he scowls and his eyes look at me disapprovingly.


"By mother, you must be referring to Aunt Louisa, which could only mean you are cousin Edward. Let me be the first to say, how awful it is to meet your acquaintance."


Go Gene! I think you can handle this one without me.


"Genevieve, there you are! Who is this?"


"I am your cousin, Edward, what a pleasure it is to see you again, Petal," his face transforms into a charming fellow, bewildering us completely.


My suspicions were correct!


"Nice to meet you. I wondered what you would be like. . . are you going to join us for the piano lesson?"


"Not this time, Petal, but from what I understand tomorrow is a rather exceptional day. And I will be all yours then," he smiles and taps her tiny nose.


This infuriates Gene, and me too! Why is he so rude to us and sweet to Nancy? Unless...


"We must be going. Tell him you will see him later," we take her hand and brush off.


"Bye cousin!" she whispers aloud.


Gene is focused on the notes and placement of her fingertips as it is now her turn while the governess helps Nancy improve her sewing skills. Aunt Louisa pops into the room and smiles at the both of us with great satisfaction. She has only boys who are yet to be married, surely she wishes to have more girls around who aren't part of the help.


"Dinner will be served at 5 o'clock, promptly. I am aware that you have already explored the library, please feel free to visit as many times as you would like. We also have a beautiful garden and from what I have been told, there is an artist in our midst."


"I am not that good, Aunt Louisa."


"Nonsense, Genevieve. I will commission your work. Please, paint me a wonderful piece so that I may hang it in the study hall. In fact, Edward could join you as he shares your same passion."


He paints?


That is the last thing I'd be looking forward to. Gene fakes a smile and continues to play the difficult melody. Piano isn't her forte. She endures the practice until the governess nods. The room seems a bit stuffy, so we find our way outdoors and stroll through the gardens till we're out of everyone's sight.


I encourage Gene to slip out of her shoes and she smiles joyfully. She hums while the grass tickles beneath her feet. She glances over a patch of lavender flowers and I believe we share the same idea. Plucking at least a dozen, she begins to weave a crown and I feel like a proud friend about to recieve this gift. Suddenly we hear neighing not too far behind the trees. After placing my flower crown over her forehead, we go in search of the animal that's captured our interest.


Gene spots a black stallion gallivanting and looking most playful. There's no saddle or reins and I wonder if it's a wild horse.


"Celine, come here!" a man calls and laughs.


She calms and trots her way over to her master. I'm trying desperately to see who he is, forcing Gene to step on a slanted tree stump, all I see is his white shirt and funny pants. He's turning and we almost catch a glimpse of his face until gravity plays a trick on us.


"Ohhhhh no!" There goes her foot as we tumble and fall on her back.


She covers her mouth and prays no one heard. Crawling on her knees, we try to escape but her dress is caught within a few jagged twigs. Tugging quietly, we backtrack till we find her shoes.


"Ahem," someone clears their throat. She's too humiliated to look up, preferring to sit and face the ground. "Are you spying on me now?"


Gene's shoulders shoot up like a shield. The sound of his voice confirms he's the last person she, we, want to see. Slowly, we look up over her shoulder and she grinds her teeth at his snooty appearance. It takes a second for our eyes to meet, too distracted by his revealing torso and tousled hair. I dare say he looks almost dreamy if we didn't already hate him.


"Don't flatter yourself," I speak.


"Oh but I can and I will, Twig."


We glare at him, repulsed by his arrogance. He lowers to the ground and picks at the hem of my dress, removing a twig. How humiliating! He cocks his eyebrow and then has the audacity to wink at us. This is not the same green-eyed boy from my previous dreams.


"You may be my cousin," she stomps to her feet, " but you are the most self-centered narcissistic wanker I have ever met!"


Couldn't have said that better myself!


"That is where you are wrong, we are not blood cousins. You may have forgotten that Louisa is not my birthmother but has kindly loved me as one of her own."


"Poor woman," I turn Gene around to make our way back to the house.


"Such a pompous girl," he snickers.


"I beg your pardon?" Gene's jaw drops. I could murder him.


"You are a spoiled ostentatious brat! You think that pretty face is going to get you far in this world, Twig? I pity the bloke who is to endure the sufferable marriage! That is if you can find anyone pathetic enough to propose to you. There will never be enough shillings in the world to persuade such a man," he mocks.


"What ever did I do to you to deserve such unkind words?!" She marches up to him. Hurt doesn't even begin to describe how she's feeling.


"You exist. That is enough," he answers stiff lipped with hatred in his eyes. "Now if you will excuse me, I must tend to my horse. She is the only thing worth my attention around here."


He takes a few steps back, eyes observing Gene from head to toe. Although the sun is shinning in all it's glory, she's getting cold, and it's not hard to see why. Perhaps it's the evil in his stare and the authority in his step. What gives him the right to treat her like a dog? He's no gentleman, so why does he have the face of the man that I've been falling in love with?

Notes