IX
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Willow loved to go to parties, to dance and let go to the music. It was probably only thing she had in common with her sister. Together they attended dance classes since they could walk, and their sister bond grew stronger with every beat and twirl.
It was sickening to Willow to think about their favorite activity now that Iris was robbed off the ability to perform, to take that shining spot of the brightest star on the stage as she deserved. The very thought of dancing felt like Willow was betraying their sisterly bond, the very thought of walking seemed like a treason.
However, no matter how much she tried to fight it off, Willow couldn't help but feel excited about the upcoming ball, and the rush in the Ashford's house was intensifying her enthusiasm to a point she was at her toes as the date approached. Mary and her mother had gone ballistic about choosing the right gown. While for Mrs. Ashford the reason was trivial as being dressed to impress society, for Mary it was more personal. Though Willow hadn't outright confronted her about it, she was certain Mary was going to dress to impress Edmund.
They spent several days just picking out right ribbon to match their dress, and the dress itself was sown by the best tailor in London, or so was Willow told. Ashfords offered to buy her a dress as well, but Willow outright refused as soon as those words left Mrs. Ashford's mouth. After all they did for her, she couldn't ask them to spent money on buying her something she would wear only once. She settled for wearing one of the Mary's old gowns.
"Dear Willow," Mrs. Ashford said one day as they were lounging in the fitting room, sipping lemonade to cool themselves. It wasn't that the sun was too bright, but the humid heat that polluted their fresh air had them tapping cloths on their foreheads. They were at Madam Jacqueline's store, and Mary was having her last fitting while Willow and Mrs. Ashford sat in the sofa observing. "I must insist once more. Take a look around these wonderful, fashionable gowns. Are you sure you do not want one?"
Willow almost gave in. It wasn't because the gowns that were displayed were so irresistible but because the look on Mrs. Ashford's face was disarming. She looked like in pain, like Willow was purposely committing a crime against all rules of society and she couldn't do anything to rescue her.
"Please Mrs. Ashford," Willow begged for the nth time that day, and it was only around noon. "I made my decision."
Mrs. Ashford let out a long sigh, partly as response to Willow's ridiculous stubbornness, partly because the heat was insufferable. Mary's dress fitting was not nearly approaching to an end Willow started getting antsy. It was like all those needles Madam Jacqueline was threading through Mary's dress stabbed her repeatedly in her feet. She jumped up abruptly, scaring poor Mrs. Ashford in the process, and fiddled towards the exit mumbling excuses.
"I'm going to take a walk, be back quickly."
Ever since she arrived to this time, Willow hadn't had time to explore as she originally intended. Most of the time she was stuck in the house, or attending dinner parties in Elysium, like the one few days ago. Her mind was still replaying events from said dinner party, especially the one that involved certain dark haired gentleman.
She should be afraid, she knew that in the small part of her heart. He was a criminal, one with two different personalities no less. The one in higher society offered him knowledge and means to know everything about fellow wealthy ladies and gentlemen, the one as a low life criminal allowed him put his hands deep in their pockets without them realizing.
Then why on earth she only felt irritation towards him?
He was too annoying, too carefree and too meddling. He seemed to pop out from most unexpected places as if his sole existence was meant to defy her, to play with her buttons until she would scream in exasperation. It was as he was born as a reaction against Willow, to be her polar opposite, the contrast to her whole being. Handsome, dark eyed contrast.
Light wind, almost insensible played with Willow's hair and she closed her eyes, sighing deeply as it dispersed her thoughts like feathers. Fluttering her eyes open she let them glide all around her, from paved streets, people of different appearance, age and class that paced them to buildings that looked brand new now but are most probably demolished or reconstructed few times in 21st century.
Strange melancholy settled in her heart, it enveloped her sadness and pain in cocoon of regret and burned her soul. She never should have left her house, her goal of helping her parents backfired on her and they must be worried sick.
Shaking her head, she followed her feet as they took her further away from Madam Jacqueline's store. In the corner of her eyes she caught a glimpse of her own reflection in one of the displays of several stores that were lined up down the street, and stopped.
Willow looked as if she truly belonged in this century, with her pale, normal dress Mrs. Ashford begged her not to change and hair tied into bun in the back of her head. Her eyes however, were hazel seas of sadness. The upcoming ball was bringing up beautiful but painful memories she spent with her sister, and it's taking a great tool on her.
Inexplicable fury started in her heart like a volcano that erupted and spread through her body with great speed. Her hand shot up and struggled to untie her hair. She ferociously wrestled with numerous pins that were burning her scull and she pulled several hairs until she reached her goal. Once she brought her hands through her uncaged hair, she felt as if she could breath freely.
Somewhere behind her wrecked appearance, Willow spotted a plain, black dress hanged on small hanger and displayed for world to see it. There was nothing breathtaking about it, but in its simplicity it was lovely and it was probably only dress Willow would actually wear. Simple, plain, coal black.
Just the way she felt her soul was growing into.
"Lady Oak," she was startled when a voice called her name, but didn't have to turn in its direction to find out who its owner was. Only one person called her that. "What a lovely surprise."
"I beg to differ," Willow mumbled, eyes still glued on the dress trying to figure out the material it was made of. It looks like silk.
"I see the preparation for the ball are in progress," he continued and Willow felt his body settling next to her own. "Shopping for perfect dress, I assume."
Willow turned to glare at him, furious for interruption of her pity party and lopsided grin on his face angered her more. She just couldn't get a break from him.
"Are yo-"
"My, you look like you wrestled wild beasts rather than shopped for dresses and ribbons," Jack interrupted her, rather rudely but Willow didn't allow herself to show the anger that urged her to rearrange his pretty face. That was what he wanted, she was sure, to see her fuming in fury.
"I wasn't wresting with wild beasts before," she started, small defying smile she forced danced on her lips, "but I see I might have to do so now."
Jack's eyes sparkled in amusement, or perhaps it was just a reflection of glowing Sun that shed some light in his midnight darkness. She wasn't sure, the only thing she could spot was how beautiful they are. They weren't breathtaking eyes, like those of color one couldn't name - like perfect mixture of forest green and sky blue she always found fascinating - but simple, plain, coal black.
Their depth was what shattered Willow's reason and she often found herself boring into them for too long.
"Are you following me?" She questioned before Jack had time to respond to her snarky remark. Narrowing her eyes, Willow stared at his with her infamous tell-me-all-your-secrets look. She claimed it was unbeatable.
"Ah, Lady Oak," he shook his head and closed his eyes for a second as if she just rendered most absurd thing on world. "You flatter yourself too much."
She narrowed her eyes further more, to a point they were just two thin splits and Jack let out an small sigh.
"I'm here with Edmund and Miss Jones," he pointed somewhere behind him with his hand and Willow followed his instruction. True to his words, Edmund and Miss Cynthia Jones stood in front of a shop nearby, close enough to see them but far enough not to eavesdrop on their conversation. "They had some business to attend to in the city and I joined them. Meeting you here is just a sheer luck, with maybe a pinch of fate, don't you agree?"
"What a cruel fate that is," Willow rolled her eyes and brought them back on the dress she admired before Jack arrived.
"The only thing worst than knowing reality is denying to accept it, Lady Oak," Jack continued teasing her, following her eyes to the dress Willow was so carefully observing. "As a close friend and business partner, I must rescue you from that bottomless sea of denial."
"Close friend and business partner?" Willow echoed his words, flickering her eyes to his in the display's mirror looking window. "When did we become that?"
"Well, need I remind you that you forced me into an agreement with you?" Jack questioned raising his eyebrows to emphasize his words and Willow nodded in agreement. "That is how we became business partners."
"And what about close friends part?"
"We became close friends when I decided to say forced rather than blackmailed," He grinned boyishly. "And because you looked like in need of one. You are lucky I am such a good soul."
"Yeah, a true martyr," Willow rolled her eyes again and brought them back to the dress, her tone suggesting end of discussion. Maybe if she ignored him he would leave. Hmm, she thought to herself, perhaps it is satin.685Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFXQysJX1dX
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The street they were in buzzed with hubbub and soft chirping of birds could be heard all around. The silence that was created between them could've been uncomfortable, but Willow was too stuck in memories that replayed before her eyes to notice.
"Are you all right?"
Willow stiffened. Jack's hand found its way on her elbow and gently squeezed it, turning her into human statue with that simple touch. His words were so quietly breathed into the air, soft like the wind that played with her hair.
She didn't know how to answer.
The simplest question in the world sounded like that one with chicken and an egg. Her first instinct was to lie, to brush it of with simple 'I'm fine, thanks' like she's been saying to everyone who asked that since the accident.
Yet when she glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, she couldn't lie.
Jack's face was serious, yet guarded enough for Willow to find any trace emotion there. Not even curiosity, it was like he just asked her for the time of day and not the question whose true answer haunted her since that night.
"No," she whispered unintentionally, paralyzed by his piercing gaze that never left her eyes. Willow winced when those simple letters left her mouth as if she committed a crime. She didn't dare complain when her sister was in the state she was, she thought she had no right to it. And yet, she said it out loud, like the awful person she thought herself to be.
But as the soft smile peeked on Jack's lips like timid Sun after darkest night, Willow was blanketed in warm empathy it produced. It lit up Jack's pale face in beautiful way, casting shadow on all other things that glow, like Sun, Moon and all those stars that seemed irrelevant and insufficient to stand against that look on his face.
And the world flew by, people walked away and wind stopped as they shared that single moment, split second where everything was alright. And Mrs. Ashford and Mary found them, conversed happily with Edmund and Miss Jones after they too approached them, but it didn't matter. And they bid goodbyes to each other, turned around and climbed into their respectable carriages that drove them away from each other, but Willow still had that silly, half smile on her face.
And the nights will fall and new dawns will be born for years ahead, but she was sure she would never, ever forget that look on his face. And perhaps, just perhaps, he would always remember their moment too.
Judging by the gift box that waited for Willow in Ashford's mansion, he would.
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