"It's positively frigid out here, Oliver. Can we go?" whined the woman to the young man.
"I s'pose." The young man muttered in reply. The couple climbed into the backseat of the car and once settled into the automobile, the woman demanded the chauffeur to take them back up to the estate resting about two miles down the road.
"I really can't understand why you are intent on fraternizing with the, the..." The lady stuttered trying to find the right words.
"Je ne sais quoi?" Oliver offered, only to receive a sideways glance in return.
"The common people." She finished, satisfied.
"What Clara, you think them beneath you?" Oliver turned on her sharply.
"With all due respect Oliver, I do think them lesser than us, as they are!" snapped Clara, leaving quite a lot of respect due indeed.
"Of course, of course," Oliver let out a humorless chuckle. "This is just like you. But I do wonder Clara, why do you always feel the need to be so malicious?"
"I am no such thing!" Clara replied, ironically, quite maliciously.
Oliver repressed his scoff. "Think no more of it." Oliver was rather good at diplomacy.
The remainder of the ride was spent in an uncomfortable silence, only to be broken once they had reached their destination, by Oliver's soft utter of "Thank you, Greenwald." At that Clara stalked off, away from the car.
"'Corse, m'lord." The chauffeur replied melancholily.
"Oh, and Mr. Greenwald?"
"Yes, sir?"
"I wouldn't get too used to her being in your... er, general vicinity." And with that, Oliver turned on his heel and retreated into the house, leaving his parent's very confused chauffer to park the car.
YOU ARE READING
Iris
RomanceHer name was elegant, her past was not. In clicking on this book you have found a story of unrequited infatuation. A story of a young woman trying to navigate her way through 1913's ever-changing world, as well as her own emotions. And the story of...
