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xA

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"Eyes which were of the blue of forget-me-nots..."
͟͟͞͞➳

  She wasn't prepared for the cacophony she'd meet.

  Fingers drifted across the distressed wooden banister. With one arm hanging loose, the opposite hand twisted into the hem of her sleeve as she made her descent down the grand cherrywood staircase. Nerves bordered on distress and she felt her legs ready to buckle.

  On the outside, was plastered a small, bland smile devoid of teeth. On the inside, she screamed.

  Outfitted in silk cocktail dresses were women frosted in diamonds, pearls, and encrusted hair pieces. The men were in tailored suites, silk ties, and cummerbunds with refined, stylish hair.

  Her first introduction to London's prestigious elite—and she stuck out like a sore thumb.

  Of course.

  Alex could feel the grove of her front teeth bite into the flesh of her lip, punctuated by anxiety. This was uncharted territory and it made her want to flee through the nearest door.

  The select few that took a glance at the obvious American girl, dismissed her with a soft chortle and returned to their coterie. Amber liquid sloshed against the rim of a squared glass one held aloft. Another imparted a laugh as their eyes fell upon her hovering on the last step.

  Alex was left suddenly sweltering as her heart reverberated in the soles of her boots. She needed an out, fast. Grasping the banister tightly she pulled herself straight around.

Two large sets of glass doors had her soon finding the kitchenette tucked in the back of the large, Georgian homestead. Remnants of fresh paint permeated, swanky chairs grouped around a large island of quartz. Opulent gold light fixtures shined against glossy floors with the finest china and crystal.

Two French doors opened to a cobbled back patio as the soft cadence of violins strung through the air.

Walking stealthily forward, she noticed a copious amount of people gathering outside and she nearly made a swift depart. Until she spotted a dressed buffet nearly out of sight teeming with steaming, baked foods. As if on cue, her stomach made an obnoxious rumble, her last meal now hours ago that entailed a small bag of stale peanuts and a biscotti.

She felt her lips part upon the whimsical setting she walked into. Large, billowing satin drapes framed the backyard, shielding guests from the frigid downpour while the fresh scent of rain lingered in the air. Woven above were twinkling lights that created an elegant ambience. The cold swiftly dissipated through fired-up heat lamps, placed in strategic areas across lawns that glistened as social circles conversed, ate, or sat with their gossip.

An erected stage sectioned off the far corner of the tent where a group of violinists in striking tuxedos, strummed their instruments with an array of sonatas. Immediately she recognized a classical by the infamous Beethoven called, "Spring."

Having listened to instrumentals as a young child, she felt herself ease in its familiarity. Mixed with the tantalizing aroma rising off the frosted sweets, soon she found herself diverting for the table dressed with a fine delicacy of desserts.

   Formal waitstaff carrying iced trays with flutes of champagne, eyed her with puzzled brows along the way. Yet their lips remained sealed out of politeness or recompense it appeared.

Definitely pay.

Already had she garnered various whispers and stares that slowly wound through a sea of faces. It was nearly enough to quench the hunger pangs. She was the underdressed social pariah and every inch of it was felt. Her hair fritzed from travel had now dried from the weathered residue. Undoubtedly she felt as if she were being likened to a homeless peddler.

Thank you, Aunt Marietta.

"Alex... Darling."

"Oh, God, smite me now," Alex squeezed her eyes shut in silent prayer. Pursing her lips she slowly turned to the disdain projected in her aunt's tone. Next to her was none other than Angelica herself.

The two were near identical with their hair pulled into a curled updo, the pearls strung around their necks befitting of short, princess style dresses. Mink furs draped their shoulders as they each held a sparkling libation in their manicured hands.

"Dear," her aunt began, the disapproval visible in those crystalline eyes. "Did I not tell this was a formal gala. In your name?"

Not even if hell froze over would I believe that.

Judging by the quiet titter behind Angelicas upraised hand, Alex wasn't duped into thinking so.
Even as a senior man joined the two.

Gold-rimmed spectacles did nothing to hide his bushel of eyebrows paired with slicked, silver hair. Subtle bags beneath dark eyes perceived her right then.
"Good evening," He greeted with a formal nod as a proper etiquette. With a tailored suit and a silk tie fashioned with a gold pin, his attire spoke of excessive affluence. "Is this the lovely, Alexandria White you have spoken of, Marietta Darling?"

Her gaze stippled on Alex, snapped back and in an instant she relaxed her stance as her chin raised in acknowledgement. "Yes, Thompson. This is my step niece whose traveled from America." Towards the gentleman her pearly white teeth were on full display. "Alex, darling, this is the Headmaster of Winchester. One of London's most reputable schools."

  "How do you do, Miss." This Thompson extended his hand as a common respect. The taught lines around his mouth however exhibited a judgement already filed.

Nevertheless, Alex extended her hand just enough to appease her aunt. "How... do you do."

Her fingers just barely brushed his with an indicated weariness. Why was she being introduced to the Dean of a steeply priced college? She couldn't afford such a school and clearly this Headmaster knew it. Was this some formal arrangement she was unaware of ? Or a manipulative form of punishment for having borrowed Darling money?

  Would her aunt truly sink so low?

  Suddenly Alex needed to put as much distance as humanely possible between them. Her breaths started to shallow sending tingles to her fingertips as the faces around her raptly caged her in. Shit, it had been awhile since her last panic attack.

  Sweat broke across her forehead. "Excuse me, uh, sir."

  She needed air, now.

She spun on her heel as the nausea rippled in her gut and the last of her aunts words were imparted, "Excuse me, Thompson, I wasn't aware we'd be greeted by such... an improper introduction."

  Followed was Angelica's snide, "I believe Miss was quite the indication."

  It was an insult to be called miss in this circumstance. Not that Alex cared at the moment, even as a pressure swelled behind her eyes. "Don't you dare cry, Alex."

  For the most part, she was now alone once she reached the kitchen. Save for the few that walked by who Alex snapped with a sharp, "What?"

  Already was she sick of being the show monkey for these people. She pressed her hands against the wide berth of the kitchen sink taking in slow, deep breaths.

  Breathe.

  This was only day one of her new life. She would have to use this as a learning experience for the future. Next time, she wouldn't be the laughingstock.

  Typically around this time of the year she would be tearing through the muddied trails across acres of land back home. Either in a pickup or on ATVs, surrouded by childhood friends all soiled in grime as the engine roared through the woods.

  Her aunt would have a conniption if she ever found out her niece had done such activities like, "mudding".

  "God, give me strength," she whispered, the dark clouds of depression threatening to pull her under.

  Switching on the faucet after grabbing a glass she paused. Back home they'd had well water. Due to the toxic levels of metal, bottled water was a necessity. Angling the glass as the water nearly spilled over the rim—a voice abruptly pulled her back to reality.

  "Excuse me, would you fancy a drink?"

The glass dropped from the pads of her fingertips with a distinct plink! as it splintered into shards.

  Alex whirled around.

  There, she was caught up in the most vivid eyes that lanced through her like a double-edged sword.

  "Alexandria, is it?" His voice was soft with a touch of English formality.

  "Um... Alex."

He smiled albeit crooked, accentuating angular cheekbones. "Pleased to meet your acquaintance, love. Forgive me for not formally introducing myself." With the delicate manner in which he gripped the stem of a champagne glass, he set on the counter aside her and extended a hand. "My names is James, James Rodger."

  Alex, still wary from her previous interactions, remained on guard. Yet now that she'd had a few seconds to tax this stranger, she could decipher his eyes as to what the colors reminded her of. Like the canvases she used to wield with a brush dipped in an spectrum of cool watercolors.

Framed in thick, soot-like lashes. Crowned by a snow-white iris variegated with hints of blue. It was like lightning had struck the roiling waves of the ocean.

The eyes of a storm...