Butterflies

Butterflies

I eat my finger sandwiches like my mother taught me, while making
polite conversation with my fellow picnickers. I didn't want to be
here, but mother insisted once she had received the invitation from one
of her high class friends.
It is polite for a lady to attend the social occasions that she has
been invited to," she said, while removing my prettiest dress from the
wardrobe. "After all, you shall be courting soon, and we want you to
find a suitable young gentleman, such as the ones who will be attending
the picnic."
Now I'm sitting on the red chequered material, surrounded by 'suitable
young gentlemen' and my supposed friends, as we eat our food daintily.
I pretend to be at home, snuggled up on the sofa reading a good book,
like that of Charles Dickens or Emily Bronte. I excuse myself as I spot
a rare butterfly out of the corner of my eye, and pick up my net
delicately with my forefinger and thumb, so as not to break the trend.
Butterflies are another of my passions, and so far I have collected
over twenty different species.
I prance after the butterfly, leaving the clearing and entering the
woods. For the first time that day I am happy, alive even, awoken from
a bored social slumber. I swing my net to try and catch the butterfly.
I miss by a long way and instead I entrap a young gentleman, who had
been bending down to pick something up.
I blush, my face turning bright red, before I quickly apologise. He
takes my hand and kisses it, saying:
"No matter, you did not harm me."
He stands tall, puffing out his chest, and filling his white shirt,
which is otherwise baggy on him. Then, with his hand still firmly
locked on mine, he starts leading me further into the woods. I follow
happily for a while, intrigued by this handsome stranger, wanting to
know where he leads me.
I suddenly realise my actions, as if for the first time and stop
abruptly, pulling him to a halt.
"Sir, I cannot follow you, for we have only just met, and I am unsure
as to whether your actions are honourable or not."
"My lady," he replies smoothly, "I mean you no harm or discourtesy. I
mean only to show such a special lady my deepest and most special
secret: within the woods, beneath a veil of leaves, from the trees that
line it, is a babbling brook. I go to it when I need to relax and get
away from everyday life. One day I slipped on a wet rock and fell in. I
was unconscious for a few seconds and when I opened my eyes again I
found, to my surprise that I was being carried with the current. At
fist it was the most unnerving experience, but then I found that the
feeling of just floating softly, like a leaf on the water, was really
quite wonderful. I won't try and describe it to you, as it is better to
experience it for yourself; I don't think I would be able to do it
justice, even with my wide vocabulary. Will you come with me
madam?"
"Yes sir, I will. But before I go with you I as but one thing: what is
your name?"
"My name is David," he said airily, and the light shone on him,
lighting his eyes and making me feel even more like I was in a dream.
"And yours?"
"Charlotte," I replied, snapping out of my little dream world (in
which he was the main focus) as I heard his honey-smooth voice.
"That is a most pretty name, it suits you perfectly. Come, we shall
continue on."

The couple continue on until they reach the brook. Its clear waters run
over the pebbles which line the bottom, creating a wonderfully soothing
noise. Charlotte removed her shoes and paddle at the edge for a minute,
as David watch, smiling at her gently. He ran into the centre of the
brook, and motioned to her to join him there.
"To experience the whole journey you have to lie down like in the
water, like this." He sat down before lying back into the water and
Charlotte, infatuated by his every action, did the same.
"Now," he continued, "close you eyes until I tell you otherwise."
She did this too, and the pair began to float down the brook. Seconds
later, and David told her to open her eyes, she followed his
instruction, and gasped at what she saw:
Ahead of her was an intricate pattern of leaves, through which light
shone. The majority of the light was blocked out by the leaves, or
shone through the paper thin structures and tinting the light green,
but what was let through created a soft dappled effect, and warming
Charlotte's face. It was a wonderful, relaxing, floaty feeling, not to
mention surreal, and as she continued to be carried along, Charlotte
felt completely at peace. She felt David squeeze her hand, and then the
veil finished and bright sunlight momentarily blinded them, as it
streamed into their eyes. Charlotte and David climbed out of the water,
soaking wet. She ran over to hug him, and whispered in his ear: "That
was wonderful, it was so calming."
He nodded in agreement and then bent down and kissed her softly on the
lips. At first Charlotte pulled away, thinking that after all that,
David intentions were dishonourable, but then she decided she quite
liked it, and started kissing him back.
The two new lovers made their way to the picnic where Charlotte was
going to introduce him to her friends. When they arrived back, everyone
gasped, firstly at the fact she was dripping wet and secondly at the
fact she was holding a strange mans hand (or not as she was soon to
find out).
"David? What are you doing here, and with Charlotte as well?" asked
Cathy, the girl who had invited her to the picnic.
"You know David?" asked Charlotte, amazed and puzzled at the same
time.
"Yes, he's my father's manservant," Cathy replied
matter-of-factly.
"Manservant!" Charlotte exclaimed outraged. "Is this true?" she asked
David. She couldn't believe it! Her one true love was a
manservant!
"Yes it is," he replied solemnly. "But why should that matter when I?I
love you." There was a huge and very audible, they were shocked,
disgusted, and hanging on tenterhooks as to what Charlotte's reply to
that would be. This one reply could bring shame to her whole family, or
ruin David's career as Cathy's Father's manservant.
"It doesn't, and I love you too!" she said, hugging him again.
"What!" exclaimed Charlotte's mother. "You can't love him; you've only
just met him! And he's from another class - a lower class as
well!"
"I don't care about class, that's just you; it's all you care about.
And it doesn't matter if we've only just met, when it's love, you can
tell straight away."
"I'm not having any of this!" her mother shouted, completely livid now;
she couldn't believe what she was hearing. She tried to pull Charlotte
away with her. "You're coming with me."
"No!" said Charlotte firmly. "I've listened to you all my life, and so
far it hasn't done any good. Now I have the chance to make myself happy
and I intend to take it. If you won't allow me to marry him freely,
then we'll elope." Charlotte didn't realise what she had said until she
had. She even surprised herself by her statement, but realised that if
it had just come out like that, without her having to even think about
it, then it must be true.
"And what do you think about this young man?" Charlotte's mother asked
David.
"It sounds good to me!" he replied, and with that the couple left the
picnic and walked off to start their new lives together, without the
hassle of anyone telling them what to do.
As they walked off, two of the rare breed of butterfly that had brought
the pair together, chased after each other, flitting and fluttering
about, until they settled down together on a white lily flower.