Daffodils in Spring

FLORENCE: It Always Rains in London

I used to love the rain. I’d run to the front door, put on my coat and shoes and walk for hours, just letting it run off of my skin. The coat wouldn’t save me, nothing could, the rain would soak into the deepest layers of my skin and yet, I didn’t mind. In fact, I enjoyed it. I felt like it somehow cleansed me. I did my best thinking in the rain. 

It was raining now, pouring down. For the first time in months, it was running off of pavements and into the road, creating small but turbulent streams that pooled at the ends with nowhere to go. If I were able, I would go outside and let it sink into my skin, but I couldn’t. Instead, I watched the rivulets run down the outside of the windows, the soft pitter patter lulling me into a sense of calm that was very much needed. 

“Florence, come away from the window please. You will catch your death.” I turned abruptly at my mother’s words, standing up from the window seat and walking slowly back to the bed. I caught myself in the mirror as I stepped, I was still pale and slightly drawn, strawberry blonde hair a stark contrast to my skin. I had been unable to keep food down for over a week which had led to weight loss. My nightshirt hung off of my frame in a way that it had not before. “You need to look after yourself better.” She scolded, gently pushing me down onto the bed and tucking in the covers around me. The bed linen soft yet crisp, not at all like the scratchy cotton I had become accustomed to. 

The hospital had been adequate, but it was a stretch to say that it had been comfortable. Necessary most definitely. I am not sure I would be here today had I not gone. Matthew had not been to visit me once which had disappointed my parents but had not surprised me in the slightest. He didn’t care about me, or my family, and most likely never would. He did care about the money though which meant some outward, over-the-top display of false affection would be coming my way any day now. With my parents being a Duke and a Duchess, my inheritance was vast and something of interest to the Faradays who, it had been rumoured, had very little money left. 

Matthew was my soon-to-be husband. The one I was betrothed to from a very young age – birth really. My parents had known each other since birth themselves. Both from wealthy backgrounds, both had homes in the same area of London and both still had large houses in the countryside in which they had staff to oversee our every whim. The death of Queen Victoria had meant an extended time had been spent in London, ‘in mourning’ and I therefore had not been back to the main house, Arthurton Manor, in Leicestershire in quite some time. I missed walking in the countryside, taking in the fresh air. Making up stories as I went to escape from the dull reality of my meticulously planned life. 

“Mother, when will we be returning home to Arthurton Manor?” I asked, not looking at her. It was always important to hide facial expressions from Mother. She could decipher your true question in seconds if she could read your face. 
“We won’t be going back until the summer now, Florence.’ She replied, not looking up from her book. 
“Why not?” I asked back, still looking at the water dripping from the window pane. “Surely being back in the fresh air would do me the world of good.”  
She looked up at me then, I could see her head moving in my peripheral vision. “Father does not want us to return to Leicestershire until the match is secured.” She sighed, her head moving back to its original position.  
“Right.” I said dully, unable to hide my disappointment. 
“Do you really dislike Matthew so?” Mother asked me, getting up to perch on my bed. She touched my face so I looked at her. 
“I don’t dislike him at all.” I retorted, furious that she’d still managed to read between the lines. “I don’t dislike him...I just, I find him tiresome. We are not at all the same, not since we were children and to imagine spending the rest of my life with someone who just does not seem to...” Shuddering, I tailed off. Not wanting to complete the sentence. Knowing that I had already said too much. 
“It must be done Florence. You know that.” She smiled at me then. “I didn’t always love your father you know. We were promised from such a young age and yet, now I cannot imagine life without him.” Sitting back down in her chair, she once again picked the book up and stared at its pages. She had not said that she loved him though. That much I had noted. 

Matthew and I had been friends once upon a time. Both of our fathers worked in the same industry, manufacturing fabrics, and they had factories in London that required them to spend great amounts of time in the area to manage them. Throughout most months of the year, Mother and I would stay home at Arthurton Manor and Father would go alone to London to manage them along with Matthew’s father. However, from February to July we would move to London and stay in Faraday House, the house in which my Grandparents had lived out their days and stay in London for what my mother called ‘the season’. It was a time for society parties, gatherings and other such things that I, apparently, had no need for since I was already promised to Matthew and therefore not in need to meeting other people who were really using these social occasions to find themselves a partner. 

During the season, Matthew and I would spend our time running around the grounds of Faraday House. We rarely went to his home due to its ‘small gardens and low number of staff’ as my mother so kindly put it. She always had somewhat of a smug little smile on her face as she said it, as if it made us better than them. Maybe it did, I had never paid a great deal of attention to it but as my father once told me, you don’t think about wealth until you don’t have it. Matthew had been fun back then. We would play hide and seek, sometimes calling out each other's names for an hour at a time. Once we found each other, we’d spin in circles so fast we’d make ourselves dizzy and fall to the ground. Holding hands and lying next to each other staring up at the sky. We’d talk then. About the things we’d wish for ourselves. We never mentioned the most obvious part of it all – that we would end up together. It felt so natural playing together, like siblings, that the idea that one day we would end up married was not something either of us really wanted to think about. 

At that moment, my maid came bustling in followed a number of the other staff members each carrying items that I assumed were to dress me. “Right Florence, Elizabeth is going to get you dressed. It’s about time you got some fresh air and now that the rain has stopped, it’s a perfect time to take a stroll into Mayfair and show everyone how you have recovered.” I gaped at her, not quite understanding what I had just heard. It was only yesterday that the Doctor had said that another week of bedrest was very much needed and my mother and father had wholeheartedly agreed. 
“I nearly died less than two weeks ago!” I exclaimed, “The Doctor said only yesterday that...” 
“I know what the doctor said Florence, but this is what I am saying. Now get up and get dressed.” With that she marched out of the room. Elizabeth looked at me kindly, offering me her hand to help me out of bed. 
“Matthew is in Mayfair, My Lady, talking to some of the young ladies down there. I think Your Grace wanted to make your presence known.” Elizabeth nodded at me and then helped me into the chair at my dressing table. “How would you like your hair doing my Lady?” She asked, picking up the hair brush from the small draws at the side. 
“Do you think there is time for a bath and to wash it?” I asked her, suddenly feeling grimy and sweaty. 
“I wouldn’t think so my Lady. We can bathe you here though if that would suffice and ensure a proper bath when you return? I can dampen your hair and plait it so that it does not look so...”  
I nodded promptly in response. “I think that would be best.” I murmured. I didn’t want to see Matthew. It would only remind of what our future held and it wasn’t something I liked to dwell on.  

“Florence, are you ready? The carriage is waiting.” I took one last look in the mirror, touched my hand to my hair as if to fix it into place and then walked towards the door, head held high ready to shake off the gossip that I was sure would follow my every step.