The People of Dewbrook

Chapter One

After the laughter stopped, Fanny spoke again, this time with a sombre facial expression. "I just remembered a most terrible thing. That waste of a man is moving into our neighbourhood because there is an old mansion he wants to buy, and it is across the fence from our dear Caroline!"

Everyone apart from the two of them gasped, their furious complaints blending into one. She could not blame them at all, for she was herself affected by this grotesque information, placing a hand onto her trembling heart, her face becoming pale and her eyes becoming abnormally wide. After a few moments of focusing on her tense heartbeats, she reminded herself to close her eyes and take a deep breath, and it helped her to arrive at a reasonable conclusion, albeit with an overwhelming desire to roll her eyes, which she did not, knowing how inappropriate it would have been to do in front of all these well-mannered people, instead telling them her theory immediately with a blank gaze:

"Perhaps he might find the mansion less satisfactory than he had expected and buy another, preferably far, far away from my presence."

The rest of the table collectively let out a long sigh of relief, and with that, the conversation shifted into one that was even more mundane, nothing more than a bunch of people talking about the weather and their dreams and their expensive travels and what they did with their families in the last couple days, all those nice, nonchalant matters. At that moment, Caroline could not express her gratitude enough, for even people like her knew to become tired of artificiality and callousness.

She was even more grateful when the dinner ended. At last, she could go outside and take her daily walk through the city streets while the sky was darkening. There would be no more gossip, no more pretending, and no more shocking news, only her and nature. It was everything she could ask for at that moment, and thus she calmly dismissed Fanny's offer to go into her carriage and stay inside her home at night, extremely glad that the other woman was not offended.

The sunset was as beautiful as always. The tranquil blue sky was not so plainly blue anymore, filling itself with deep shades of pink and purple, the blue within accepting the darkness of the night, the colours spread out in an uneven yet pretty way, like the flowers on a meadow or paint on a canvas. Something about it never failed to awaken an unfamiliar part of her heart, one that was enchanted by the poetry her environment held, weeping at the splendour that could not be replaced by jewels or gold. The birds soon flew nearby, singing a song of innocence and wonder, hiding in trees, far above land, their gentle figures and heads incapable of thought safe from the terrors below.

It was all completely different to the world she knew. Amidst the cold riches and cold hearts, it brought a warmth that did not sear her skin, welcoming her to another plane of existence. There, she thought many thoughts that did not occur to her during the rest of the day. When she would walk over a field full of plants and life, she would often halt her movement at random points, the winds of cold blowing at her back and caressing the long skirt of the white summer dress she wore that day, as well as her hair, reminding her of her childhood. Back then, her hair was stuck in a dull cap all day long, but now that she was wealthy, she wore her hair in fancy hats with peacock feathers or false flowers or something similar, eternally thankful that most of her hair was visible beneath them.

However, it was the least of the differences between her former life and her current one. She used to be quite the curious and thoughtful young lady, playing with other children, exploring the streets and the woods for hours on end, reading profound works written in prose and poetry and trying to create her own, saving money any way she could whenever her parents lacked in it and happy to get a gift when they did not. When she grew up, she changed completely, and only those walks and memories and some literature remained. Still, she regretted nothing, and would not trade her hollow life for anything in the world, for what would a woman like her be without luxury and seduction all around her?