the lady katherine bassett of hastings wasn't the type of person to second guess or doubt. especially when it came to herself and the decisions she personally made. yet, as she sat in the quiet garden in the dead of night, painting the fish pond in front of her, she wondered whether or not she made the right choice.
"what a wise decision, brother," she had said, voice dripping with sarcasm, as she entered her brother's study. she need not to look at him to know he was drowning in alcohol. "getting drunk before noon."
"i seem to recall you doing the very same up until recently," the duke of hastings said as he took another large gulp out of the bottle. he looked up and found his sister already holding the bags she was going to bring. "until you suddenly had the desire to travel."
the elder between the two (by a matter of seconds, but it hardly mattered to katherine. as long as she got to boss around her brother) rolled her eyes and placed her bags on the floor. she approached her brother and wrapped her arms around his head. "you act bitter because you will miss me, simon."
he leaned against his sister's embraced and rolled his eyes. "you can only wish, katherine." for years, they only really had each other. it used to be them against their father. now, it was them against the world. "i just don't see the desire to go to travel."
katherine rolled her eyes and ruffled her brother's hair. she then walked towards the door and called for some of the maids to bring the stuff in the carriage. "father is dead, simon. you know better than anyone how he limited my interactions with the outside world. i have the opportunity to do what i want. and what i want is to travel."
she went from seeing her brother every minute of everyday to not seeing each other for about five months now. and most of her doubt roots to her just missing the company of her brother, though she would never tell him that.
but katherine wouldn't trade what she has been doing for anything in the world. when the late-duke of hastings were still alive, he never allowed her to do anything. she was just a shiny ornament he could brag about to his friends.
now, she was in paris but she had circled london and been to belgium. not drinking and partying with everyone else, but painting. her brother would have laughed at the idea of the lady katherine basset not drinking but it was true. alcohol was only preffered in the company of those she knew well enough.
and it not only her brother whom she had missed. another duke, to be precise. the duke of cornwall; philip. he was a childhood friend of she and her brother. the last time either of them saw the young duke was at his father's funeral. last they heard was he was traveling the southern islands.
katherine titled her head as she stared at her painting. it was neither grand nor bland, and she hated it. she hated the idea of not being extra-ordinary. she couldn't even be extra-ordinary in being ordinary. the title her father had given her ensured she would never be normal. but she wasn't male enough to be more.
she was always stuck in the middle of being ordinary and extra-ordinary. when the late-duke of hastings were still alive, he always rubbed that in her face. katherine was well enough to boast to his friends but not enough for him to let her out into the world.
the spite she had for her father was immeasurable, by neither words nor numbers. so the vow she and her brother made at his death bed was the only comfort she had during these past few months.
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i despise you. because with every chance you have to be good, happy and useful, you are lazy, faulty and miserable. you're selfish. with your money, talent, beauty— with all these good things to enjoy, you can find nothing to do but dawdle.
laurie couldn't believe that little amy march had said those words to him. though he slurred his words and walked out, the things she said sobered him up real quick. was this the truth? was this how his life has become?
perhaps he has always known. perhaps it was months ago that he realized the path he was going down was a bad one, yet he did nothing to change. what would be the point? amy was right about one thing. he had money, talent and beauty. and he couldn't give a rat's ass about that.
"oh, i'm sorry," laurie said as he stumbled upon the garden, tucking the bottle of champagne behind him. he honestly did not expect anyone to be outside so he had thought he could get drunk alone here.
"there is no need to hide the alcohol. i already saw," the person—woman— said without looking up from their canvas. she was painting the pond in front of them. at night. with no lanterns or any source of light beside her.
laurie felt himself relax and approach her. he couldn't quite see what she was painting, so he couldn't give her compliments. "may i sit with you?"
she laughed. "it is improper for a man and a woman to be alone, especially at night, much less sit beside one another with no chaperone," she said and laurie nodded his head before turning on his heel to leave, "that was my way of saying you may sit beside me."
he found himself laughing as well as he took a seat next to her on the bench she probably placed on there. laurie wondered where she got the bench from and how she moved it by herself. but considering the way she allowed him to sit next to her, she was strange enough as it is. "you're painting."
"you have good eye sight."
"in the dark?"
"excellent eye sight, i see."
"why are you painting in the dark?"
"now that is a sensible question," she asked, with much intrigue in her voice, as though she were questioning herself on the matter as well. but she didn't say anything further and it was a silent few minutes when she spoke, "why shouldn't i paint in the dark, mr laurence?"
possibly laurie was far too drunk to comprehend the fact that this strange woman knew who he was or perhaps he was too curious about her painting in the dark. "isn't it...normal to paint with lights? so you can see better?"
"i can see just well, thank you," she said, once again very vaguely. "are you drunk, mr laurence?"
"nope, very sober." because of amy.
"do you know who i am?"
"should i?"
"excellent," she said and one of laurie's eyebrows raised. he didn't have time to question because she started talking, "i see colors differently from other people. my color perception is...better at night. but then again, what is normal? my normal is seeing colors more vibrately at night and your normal is seeing it better at morning. both are okay, don't you think?"
laurie paused. he had sobered up, yes, but he couldn't fully comprehend what she was saying. maybe it was the alcohol or she was just too brilliant for his feeble mind. "so what you're saying is...normal is subjective?"
"yes, exactly!" she said, standing up and almost knocking her paint over. luckily, laurie reached his hand out and caught the palette. "sorry," she said before sitting back down and continuing to place paint on the canvas. "people don't immediately get the point i try to make."
"why'd you ask if i knew who you were before telling me about how you view colors...differently?"
he felt her slightly stiffen and he was about to tell her she didn't have to say anything, "you have probably deduced i am a woman, by now, correct? (if not, then you're an idiot.) that alone makes me different from what society expects of me. but something as different as seeing colors in a way no other person can, that makes me an even bigger target."
"because you see colors differently?" laurie laughs, though he does not mean to mock her. "i hardly think that's a big deal enough for society to make you a target."
she paused, her hand frozen mid-air as her head moves towards his direction. "different makes you a target, mr laurence. i was not born a man, like society wished i was. i was not born with 'good eye-sight', like society wished i was. i am sure you have disappointed society at least once or twice but once you are a woman, everything is a disappointment."
"you're part of an elite society, aren't you?"
it was her turn to laugh. "that obvious?"
"it was your distaste for being born a woman that gave it away."
"i don't distaste the fact that i was born a woman," she said, sternly. it was a cold tone that made laurie shiver. "i distaste the harsh and unfair treatment woman are given in society."
laurie nods his head. "i have no wisdom to offer for i am a man. i have not suffered the treatments you have."
"but do you recognize it?" she asks and he tilts his head, not understanding the question. "do you recognize the privilege you have over women?"
"naturally," laurie said, scoffing as though the idea of someone not acknowledging it, was so preposterous and unbelievable.
catching his tone, she sighed. "you'd be surprised at the amount of men who'd like to ignore their privilege. not just men, honestly. just people in general not being able to acknowledge what they have."
he was about to reply with something, hoping to prove to the strange and mysterious woman that he was of intellectual leveling but the sound of the bushes around them pulled them apart. more like laurie standing up and walking five feet away from her as she didn't even flinch at the sound.
"is it midnight already, john?" she asked to no one in particular. for a few seconds, laurie wondered if she were talking to the bushes.
"an hour past, my lady." the bushes said.
"excellent," she replied, standing up and holding up her dress as she walked towards the bushes. laurie thought she was going to leave without much thought of him but she turned around, "i hope to see you in another garden and talk like this, mr laurence."
she left without another word and laurie looked at the canvas. he, too curious to see what she had painted, grabbed it and walked towards the building he had stormed out off minutes, possibly hours, prior. with each step closer to the light, he could start to see the painting.
and when he finally saw everything, he had fully understood what the mystery woman's logic of normal was. laurie was far too busy being enchanted by the painting to not hear the gasp that came from beside him. from amy march.
"the strokes..." she repeatedly muttered as her eyes widened. "where—where did find this, laurie? i have seen all her paintings and this is definitely—where'd you find it, laurie!?"
"the garden!" he said, annoyed at how she was starting to hyperventilate without explaining what was so special about the painting and the person who made it.
"the garden? she was here!? did you talk to her?"
"yeah, we talked for a while," laurie said. was there something special about the strange woman? well, she was already special, yes. but for amy to freak out like this? for her to talk to him after their public argument? "who is she?"
then, laurie remembered how she admitted to being part of an elite society at the same moment amy said, "lady katherine basset, sister of the duke of hastings!"
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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷D SPEAKS!
YASSS !! first chapter done <3
honestly, i have no idea if katherine and laurie's conversation made any sense. i was word vomiting and i really had to pee but for some reason (*cough* adhd *cough*) i wouldn't let myself pee until i published this.