Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC

38: Here No One Wants to be What They Are

The dinners are still black tie, even when the table is only half full. Routine.

I stand in front of the full length mirror as Farleigh darts around behind me, only in my underwear. My shoulders are a little sunburned, as are my cheeks, but I don't mind. It's the feeling of the summer, it's the feeling of letting loose.

Farleigh swings one of the evening dresses I brought in front of me - a pastel blue, floral tea length dress with ribbons for sleeves- assessing my reflection in the mirror. His eyes narrow, and he swishes it away just as fast as he brought it in. "I wish you would stop buying things in pastels. Jewel tones suit you much better."

"I like pastels." I say. "They're so summery."

"Jewel tones can be summery." Farleigh says. "Anything can be summery in the right fabric." He returns with a cowl neck silky dress in a deep blood red, and holds it up in front of me. "See, darker colors make you look so much more balanced."

I don't really know what he means by balanced, but there is something about the darker color that makes me look much more sunkissed. "Sure." I say, smiling at his reflection in the mirror in front of us. He rolls his eyes, but presses a kiss to my shoulder - my lack of fashion sense never ceases to annoy him.

He drops the dress in my hands. "Do the silver hoops with that, hair stays down. I have a pocket square that's the same color, it'll be good."

"Aye aye." I say, slipping the straps off the hanger and stepping into the dress. Farleigh darts around the room behind me as I dress. The silk feels good on my slightly sunburnt skin, and I'm glad that he picked the silk. I shimmy into the dress, pulling the fabric where it should be, so the slit falls over my legs right. "Zip?"

Farleigh comes back over to the mirror and pulls the zipper of my dress closed. He rests his chin on my shoulder, arms coming to circle my waist. "You look delicious."

I can't help but smile, even if it makes the sunkissed skin of my cheeks strain. "You always do a great job picking." I turn so that I can press a kiss into his curls, against his scalp. "What shoes?"

Farleigh stands back up. "Uh..." He glances over to the wardrobe, where all of my shoes are lined up. "Pointed Louboutins."

I slip past him to the wardrobe, and he takes my place in front of the mirror, tucking his shirt into his slacks. I pull the heels on as he starts on the tie - the same color as my dress. I walk back over to fold his collar back down as he finishes. I watch in the mirror as he slips into his jacket, buttoning it at the waist. Pulling a pick out of the pocket of his slacks, he runs it through his hair, evening out the places where the curls have condensed. "Will you-?"

I take the pick from him before he finishes the question and start on the back of his head, gently separating the curls. I stick the pick back in his pocket when I finish, and admire the both of us in the mirror.

Farleigh slides a hand around my waist, pulling me to his side. "Gorgeous."

"I know you are but what am I?" I tease.

He rolls his eyes, and steps away, pulling open a dresser drawer to sift through his stack of pocket squares until he finds the one he's looking for. He folds it into the pocket of his jacket, and comes back to me by the mirror. "We should wear red more often."

"I mean, you pick all our outfits, so..." I say, tipping my head against his shoulder.

"Mm." He presses a kiss to the top of my head, and steps away, linking my arm in his. "I'm hungry."

Arm in arm, we walk down to the dining room, steps clicking against the hardwood in time. A flash of memory surfaces in my mind of Venetia and I doing the same thing all those years ago, and my chest aches. I grip Farleigh's arm a little tighter.

When we reach the dining room, Oliver is helping Elspeth into her seat at the head of the table. She settles into her seat with a cough, and then presses her napkin to her mouth to cough again. She smiles, and clears her throat when she sees us. "Oh, you look so lovely. Come sit, come sit."

"Feeling alright?" Farleigh asks, his brow furrowing slightly.

She waves a hand through the air. "It's only a cough, no reason to fret, darling. It's all the goldenflower in the field, I think - you know my allergies have always been so dreadful." She racks up another cough - wet, scraping thing that shudders through her.

I glance at Farleigh. Whatever it is, I don't think it's allergies. He returns my look - agreement.

Chairs scrape against the hardwood floor as we sit down at the table. I start loading my plate and Farleigh's with roasted asparagus, and he forks cuts of the roast for each of us. I watch Oliver's icy eyes track his movements as he gathers his own dinner. Farleigh pours us both a glass of wine as I spoon potatoes onto our plates.

Oliver turns to Elspeth. "Asparagus, Elspeth?"

Elspeth shakes her head. "Thank you darling, but no - I fear I wouldn't be able to keep it down. If you would pass the salad..?"

Oliver places the salad bowl on the corner of the table to her right.

Elspeth gingerly picks at her salad as dinner commences. "I would have joined you down at the lake this afternoon if it weren't for these horrid allergies." She says.

"Maybe you should have anyway." I say, sipping at my wine. "Let the sun dry out your sinuses."

"Perhaps." She agrees. "If the weather is the same tomorrow, maybe then." Another cough wracks through her, and she presses her napkin to her lips.

Oliver quickly pours her a glass of water and sets it by her plate.

Elspeth clears her throat, continuing on like nothing happened. "It is lovely weather that we've been having, isn't it?"

Farleigh smiles thinly. "Elspeth, maybe you should go into town tomorrow. See a doctor."

"It's only allergies." She insists. "Nothing to worry about."

Farleigh conceals his sigh behind his wineglass, but doesn't press the issue. I know what he's thinking, because I'm thinking it too - it doesn't sound like allergies, it doesn't look like allergies. She looks pale, and the dark circles under her eyes hang heavy.

"I'll fix you some tea, after dinner." Oliver offers. "Something to soothe your throat."

She smiles, and pats his hand. "Thank you darling."

Farleigh's face flashes annoyance before he replaces it with resigned politeness. Again, it's like I can read his mind. Oliver isn't family - but she'll let him help her. Not Farleigh.

Elspeth clears her throat again, and changes the subject. "You must tell me what you're working on now, Farleigh. I can't imagine how you'll outdo yourself with your next collection, but I have faith that you will."

"I've been looking at a lot of Vivienne Westwood's early work." He starts. "She uses a lot of patterns, and I've been thinking about how we haven't seen a lot of pattern on the runway in a while - you know, it's mostly solid colors, at the moment..."

I tune out of the conversation as it veers into territory I can't follow, and sip on my wine again. Across the table, icy blue eyes meet mine, and Oliver smiles.