The woolly flake glided leisurely down as if it had all the time in the world. As if it wanted to think about where to settle, it hovered carefree in the air for a long moment. It whirled up, back to the sky a little further, towards the shadows where a forgotten pile of snow lay. But to show that this stubborn little flake wouldn't do what was expected, it floated on without fear. In search of something else. For colour, the warmth. Over there. In the sun awakened blossoms beneath blankets of snow. Barely beheld by the crystalline embrace. With a graceful touch, the flake sat down on the yellow leaf of a winter lily. In the blink of an eye, it was no longer visible.
It made her sad. Charlotte turned away from the window and pressed her lips together. She found it strange what a gloomy mood she was in when everything was simply wonderful. After these beautiful moments in the hazelnut grove, everything had taken its course.
The oil- and liquor manufactory was registered, the first oils were already in production, even if the small factory did not yet fulfil all standards. The landowner a parish away, who had helped them back then when all the harvest workers had fallen victim to a wave of influenza, had offered them a vacant building on his extensive estate. And after it turned out that he happened to be a third cousin of Sidney's friend Lord Babington, he had agreed not to charge rent. This Lord corresponded meanwhile at length with Sidney's brother Arthur, who had developed a real flair for strategies on how to sell the products. The first orders for the hazelnut liqueur had already arrived.
Most of the surrounding villages had also contracted with them. Charlotte had left her village in the meantime more times than she could count. Her father included her in the negotiations as if she were a man and Sidney left no doubt that they were absolutely equal. But still there was something missing. She wondered what it was, what made her so confused and restless. Since also the marriage banns had been ordered and the weeks leading up to the special day of their marriage fortunately passed by at a reasonable pace. Even if at times it went too fast and at other times it didn't go fast enough. It was all confusing. And it annoyed her, although she didn't even know what exactly was making her so desperate. Sometimes she couldn't understand herself.
The long-awaited journey to the coast was already planned as well, even if the roads were still impassable after the winter and because of the not yet dried earth. Quite a few carriages got stuck in the lumpy mud. She would take this trip to the sea. And not alone, stolen away under dangerous circumstances in the deep of night, but with her husband. This realisation always sent a magical trickle through her body. Similar to what she felt when he smiled at her. Or when he touched her. Or kissed. Then this heaviness subsided too, although it also intensified at the same time.
Oh, what strange things were happening to her?
It was beyond understanding. Like that strange fact that in the heat of summer, when the sun was burning on her skin, she would get goose bumps. When Sidney held her hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb, she felt just that. Heat on her skin, the little hairs of her arms standing up and yet she shivered as if a cool breeze had brushed her. When he dared to bring her hand to his lips and put his soft mouth on her skin, very soft and tender... Oh, it made her feel completely strange every time. Because his gaze, yes his gaze was not soft and tender at that moment, but had that one certain expression. Firm. Piercing. That look that reached into her and touched her heart. With an unknowable force that sent heat to all regions of her body, as if he was brushing against her right there.
Like gently nudging a picture frame that, despite all efforts, flipped back into its crooked position, swaying slightly back and forth. Scraping across the wall, making soft noises. These noises vibrated through her body. To all the places that, since their kiss in the hazel grove, had been waiting eagerly to be nudged again by another touch. However minimal it was. It happened all the time and yet not often enough. As soon as they were in a room together, her fiancé made an effort to touch her at least minimally. Sometimes it was even a kiss on the hand, sometimes his fingers brushing hers, his arm touching her shoulder in passing.
