A day for Friends, Cassandra

[Christabel]

Christabel walked into the town square, she didn't have work to do today and she'd agreed to meet Cassandra there. She looked around at the people going about their business and bit her lip, a nervous habit of hers. She knew Cass's mother didn't approve of them being friends, though she didn't fully understand why that was. She liked being friends with the other woman. They'd met a while ago and had been friends since because of Cass's friendly personality drawing Christabel out of her shell.

Today Chrissy was wearing a simple shirt, and skirt. Both a plain brown color that flattered her lightly tanned skin. She liked the more simple of clothes for herself. Though she loved designing and making the more frilly gowns and dresses for others. At times she'd be caught running around in trousers and a man's top, because they were simply easier to work in.

She had braided her long hair that morning, and was now playing with the end of it. She wondered where Cass was, as she hated standing there alone. She felt like people were looking at her, and some were as they walked past. She'd normally try to blend into the background, not make her presence known. Scanning the faces in the crowd she tried to spot her friend.

[Cassandra Falconer]

“Agatha, I promise, I’ll be back by…teatime. Two short hours shall fly by like minutes, and you’ll find me five minutes early, even,” said Cassandra earnestly, hazel eyes widening and mouth prim. The housekeeper bent over the soup pot and made no reply, choosing instead to dip a wooden spoon in the boiling water and sip it carefully, lips smacking together appreciatively.

“Your mother—“

“I know what my mother said. But tell her I’ll be meeting…some fine, respectable lady that she approves of. Lie, Agatha, I know you can do it, for me,” pleaded Cassandra once more, appealing to the middle aged woman through the clamor and frenzy of the kitchen. Cassandra coughed as steam entered her throat, and when it cleared, Agatha grunted, “Go on, then. The kitchen’s no place for a girl like you to be. The Lord knows you’ve never seen a day of hard work.”

“Thank you, Aggie! At tea, then!” Crimson hair flying, she dashed out the kitchen exit and into the path leading to town, apricot taffeta skirts hitching up to reveal her slippers and ankles. Although she had been given sufficient notice, Cassandra had failed to prepare for their meeting in time, due to her mother surprising her with a visitor from England—a friend of her father’s, it appeared. Not surprisingly, it was another suitor, whom Cassandra had the luck of excusing herself with a quick choice of words. She hoped Agatha’s discretion would keep Mrs. Falconer’s suspicions away from her daughter’s sudden escape to town, but if her mother did find out, Cassandra was ready to defend herself. Skilled with persuasion more than anything else, she was her true father’s daughter.

“I’m not late, I’m not late,” whispered Cassandra, proceeding in a very unladylike fashion down the streets, elbows up and skirts lifted, taking up the space of two people as she strode toward the square. Several of the passerby looked familiar; they would probably report her misbehavior to her mother. Rats. Determined, she persevered until she passed the dress shop and turned the corner, where Christabel stood, rather awkwardly, alone.

“Bel!” shouted Cassandra, rather out of breath and curls askew. “Forgive me for my delay. It at least gave you a chance to meet some handsome boys, did it not?” she teased, knowing her friend’s shy nature.

“So what are we to do today? I’ve about two hours before Mother goes berserk and starts looking for me,” said Cassandra, placing an arm around Christabel’s.