Storymania - Constance & Flynn by Julissa Gayle Raven

Constance & Flynn (1)
Julissa Gayle Raven

Constance Mannering laughed haughtily as Flynn’s face managed to catch another snowball. The village children were running about a top the hill having a rival snowball fight, boy versus girls. Constance watched the scene languidly from her tree stump regarding them all as if they were her royal subjects. Gowned in her second best outfit, a cream colored dress of wool, sturdy brown boots, matching wool mittens, her favorite shawl, and a cap over her head she had the look of an austere princess. She ran forward, quickly made a ball of pact snow and threw it at another skipping kid. Biting her lip in concentration she aimed one at Flynn, and missed by inches. He turned on her smiled and landed a snowball right in her stomach. She flew backward and landed in a snowdrift nearly sinking up over her head.
Flynn hurried over, mumbling his apologies while pulling her out. Constance on the other hand had other plans.
“You did that on purpose but it’s quite alright, Flynn, all’s fair in pain and war, huh?” Constance answered while brushing herself off placidly.
“Uh, sure, I guess,” He replied.
“Well then I’m sure you won’t mind this.” Constance fell forward on top of him and shoved both of them into the snowdrift while using him to break her fall. He fell flat on his back and her next to him. They began laughing. She looked at Flynn, his usually serious dark eyes were bright and sparkling and his floppy hair was askew. His cheeks and nose were flushed and he lost his cap and scarf somewhere, although he didn’t seem to mind.
While Flynn was laughing next to Constance he was unaware of her scrutinizing gaze from her light green eyes. Her dark brown hair reaching to the middle of her back was tied into a tight bun that looked untouched through all this play fighting. And her pink colored lips curved into its usual smile.
He sat up and drudged through the snowdrift and held out his gloved hand to Constance. “No funny stuff, now.”
Constance gladly accepted. On the point of being half dragged from the snowdrift she froze in her tracks suddenly and listened. Flynn had stopped also. The village bell never missing a beat chimed the hour.
“Oh No! It’s 11:00 already? I’m sorry, Flynn, I had a wonderful time here. I promised mother I would help with lunch. I must go, goodbye.”
And before another word had emerged from his mouth she was already hurrying and stumbling down the hill back toward her house in the village.
Constance burst through the door breathless already tugging off her shawl, cap and mittens while pulling on her apron. Her mother was in the doorway of the kitchen waiting, foot tapping impatiently.
“I’m sorry mother but when the bell chimed ten I thought there would be enough time for me to play for a little while longer, I guess I got caught up in the moment, but it was ever so lovely, and you couldn’t blame me. There was this virgin expanse of snow untouched and inviting. And mother I promise you I didn’t even get my dress soaked except for a little bit but that couldn’t be helped. You should have been there!”
Her mother accustomed to this usual outpouring of confidences from Constance didn’t even stop her during her explanation, just ushered her into the kitchen quietly and gave her crisp instructions on setting out the ingredients, they were having guests.
“Really? Guests here at our home?” Constance inquired excitedly.
“Yes, and if you don’t hurry, I guess there won’t be anyone here because there is nothing to eat. They’ll be here soon.” And so they set to work diligently.
As soon as Constance finished making the dough she kneaded it into a loaf and set it on a small metal platter to set in the oven. Afterwards she began to churn butter while her mother finished mixing the vegetables together into a melee of taste. Once they were done everything was placed on the table except for bread which they kept in the oven to keep it warm.
Constance dressed in her outside wear and began pulling water from the well. It took her several pulls because the wooden bucket had holes in it and the water leaked dreadfully while loading. Once she had enough to fill the pail, she waddled inside and put the water next to the stove. She peeled away the winter wear once again and pulled a bowl from the cupboard. She scooped out some of the water discreetly and hurried up the ladder to her attic room. She set the water down next to her bed and went back down again.
She pulled out a pitcher and teapot from the cupboard and filled both up. She walked into her mother’s room and set a pitcher and towel out on her vanity table. Constance then got tealeaves from a pouch in the cabinet and sprinkled them liberally the teapot to soak. She took out two more containers, that matched the teapot and one filled with precious white sugar. She then went in the cupboard below and pulled out a jar covered in cloth. She poured out cream into one of the matching bowls and put it back. She took both containers and set them on a tray and carried them to the table.
Her work done, she hurried back up the ladder to perform her own toilette. Opening her trunk at one end of the room she pulled out a small, tattered, but clean rag. She placed this next to the small bowl and pulled out a bar of soap, no bigger than her thumb. She laid out a dress of imitation velvet and pleated skirt, which was saved from its simplistic green by white lace edging the collar sleeves and hem which she added herself.
With the freezing water she cleaned her face and hands and dried them with the rag. She laid the rag out to dry in front of the small window where the only source of light was. She then undressed and quickly pulled on the dress before she froze. She smoothed it out and made sure the band beneath her breast was snug. She looked down and saw her brown boots poking out beneath her dress and thought it to cold to wear her laced slippers.
She walked down the ladder carefully and surveyed her image in the sliver of mirror over at the base of the ladder. Some wisps of hair had come free and added an interesting effect to her face. She peeked into her mother’s room and saw her pulling a beautiful blue ribbon through her shoulder-length blonde hair. Her dress had white daisies decorating it and had lace adorned the waist and shoulders, the end of the sleeves and the hem.
Constance’s hand went unconsciously to the brown worn strip of leather in her hair and thought of how beautiful she might be with a ribbon. She sighed and set the table. She retrieved the loaf in the kitchen and wrapped it in cheesecloth and carried it to the table and set it down, next to the creamy butter.
She put the teapot on the stove. When the guests arrived she would discreetly place it on the table in its proper place.
A tiny knock on the door drew her out of her blank routine and she hurried to the door, careful not to trip and tear the hem of her dress. She waited by the door while her mother bustled around the corner. She patted her hair one more time and flung the door open with much relish. Her mother’s smile was placed firmly there, when what should she see...
What’s Flynn, doing her?
“Good Afternoon, Arnold, Flynn, welcome to my humble home.”
“Yes, Belinda, although I must say is that a hint of cinnamon I detect?”
Mother blushed a bright poppy red. It was mother’s way of smelling sweet. Father always liked the smell, and it was mother’s habit, even after his death, Constance found it touching.
“Say your hellos’ to the Retners,” said mother sharply.
“Hello, Mr. Retner, and Flynn, I trust your health is not troubling either of you overly?” Constance curtsied.
Mr. Retner responded jovially clapping her on the shoulder rigorously, “Not at all my dear girl,” Constance flinched, “Why you look stout and able yourself, eh?” He patted her head absently and moved into close conversation with Mother while leaving Flynn and Constance alone together.
“Are you going to invite me in? It’s cold.”
“I couldn’t tell. Please come in,” She stepped aside, “Allow me to take your things. Did it take you long to reach here?”
“Not at all.”
They walked to the dining room quietly where they seated together and said grace. Children were expected to be quiet while parents spoke of adult topics.
Flynn and Constance cast each other glances throughout the meal when the adults made ridiculous comment. Mother was the perfect hostess and served everyone a little of everything. Once they had dined and sipped tea, Mother excused herself, and disappeared into the kitchen. She returned with a tray laden with small bowls of peach slices and a strawberry.
Constance forgot herself and stood up abruptly, and exclaimed, “Mother I didn’t know we would have dessert, how lovely, wherever did you get the peaches from and strawberries I thought you had the last?”
Her mother gave her a stern glance and served everyone one. Constance sipped her juices daintily and indicated to the sugar inconspicuously. Flynn passed it to her. She took a small spoon full and sprinkled it over her already sweet food. When she finished her mother gave her a nod and Constance signaled for Flynn to rise also. They left the table so that the adults could talk alone.
“I would prefer to go outside,” said Flynn. Constance nodded briskly and handed him his gear and put on her own. They walked out the door together hand in hand.
Constance stopped short at the magnificent beasts that towered before her. “Horses!” When did you get these beauties? I thought that ---- do you think that we could…?” She let the question hang in the frigid air.
Flynn hesitated slightly before nodding. He crouched below the first horse and clasped his gloved hands together. “C’mon I’ll give you a leg up.”
She mounted the horse, sidesaddle, with an uncommon grace and waited with bated breath as Flynn mounted the other. She held the reins loosely as she spurred the horse forward gently. “What’s its name?”
“Dainty.”
“Not complicated or sophisticated at all and what about yours?”
“Pegasus.”
“You gave me this one on purpose, but no matter, but I’ll race you to the oak.”
With that she urged her horse into an all out gallop and looked back over her shoulder to see Flynn coming up fast. She concentrated on keeping her lead and headed on the main road. She looked back again to see where he was but he was no where in sight, even looking through her cloud of dust.
She slowed her mare to a trot and kept a look-out for Flynn. She smiled happily, at this rate she could make it to the oak and back. There was a distant rumbling from the dirt road ahead. She looked curiously into the distance. When suddenly in to view came a speeding coach.
From behind her she heard a frantic call, “Look out.!”
Her horse reared and bucked and she flew from her back. Constance screamed as she hit the ground and rolled. She had no intention of being trampled by a disoriented horse. The coach sped by and her horse took off to the other side of the road. She kept rolling and went off a steep incline into a deep ditch full of snow. When she looked up it was to see Flynn’s concern face hovering over her. He was feeling her arms and legs gently.
“How improper of you, I promise I’m all right, but I lost Dainty.”
“Dainty’s grazing on grass over there. Stop worrying about her and worry about yourself. Why did you stop there like a daft cow?”
“I—I—I—“
“Quiet! Listen to me you are going to ride in front of me on Pegasus and then----“
“Now who are you calling daft…what would mother think?”
“I think your mother would agree with me.”
“No, You can’t carry me thank you for asking me how I feel about that, It’s unsuitable that your feeling limbs in the middle of a ditch in the frigid cold, and then me riding with you on the same saddle. I think not Flynn Retner, you can take yourself to the devil!”
“You’re overreacting.” As he said that he flung her up into his arms and placed him on the back of a docile Pegasus. He swung up behind her and then held the reins loosely in his right hands and then cantered over to Dainty and took her reins in his left. He began the ride back home. Constance sat rigid and unyielding in the saddle. Her thoughts kept playing over and over in her head. She rubbed her already irritated nose and sneezed. Then she began coughing. She nearly fell off the horse but Flynn caught her by cupping her loosely in his right arm. He cursed silently.
“Damn you, I always though you too annoying to get sick.”
She ignored him. They pulled into the yard. He jumped down and lifted her off Pegasus. He didn’t immediately let her go because he wasn’t sure she could hold her own weight. He carried her inside and opened the door slightly and peeked around the corner. All clear.
He carried her until they reached the ladder where he helped her climb the ladder. Then he arranged her on the bed and pulled the thin sheet over her. The room was damp and unsurprisingly cold. He lit a candle and placed it near the bed but it did nothing for heat. She began coughing again and started telling him once more how inappropriate it was that he see her in bed. He quieted her and began to think of what he could do for warmth.
He paused and listened to the sounds of talking beneath the floor. He pondered going downstairs and asking for help, decided it too risky, too many questions and began to pace the room. Then suddenly an idea came to his head.
He poked his head around the entrance of the ladder and sidled calmly into the dining table chair. Not wanting to be noticed he began to sip at a cool cup of tea. On cue the adults walked into the room oblivious of Flynn’s presence. He coughed lightly trying to draw attention to himself.
Belinda and Arnold looked up, obviously startled on this intrusion on their world. Arnold straightened to his meager 5’3” stature in an attempt to intimidate his son, but it didn’t have any effect. Flynn observed him coolly from his perch in the chair. He rose and said, “Ms. Mannering, Father, have you seen Constance, she went to go attend to private matters and well I believe I’ve lost track of her,” he covered smoothly protecting Constance and himself expertly. “If you would assist me I believe we could find her together.”
Belinda’s face fused with color at her own forgetfulness and said hurriedly, “Probably caught up in that silly poetry of hers you can see to her in her room upstairs above in the loft, you know where Flynn.” And with that she turned on her heel steering his father with him. Flynn panicked, “But it’s been so long surely it is something other than poetry keeping her so occupied, could you at least come with me?”
“Really my boy it’s nothing to be alarmed about,” his father said boisterously, “You should feel privileged seeing a woman in her natural environment, quite useful if you want to see the lady’s working before shackling yourself.”
Belinda’s face conveyed a look of complete surprise and doubt shadowed her soft features. “Maybe we should accompany him, maybe Constance can enlighten us with her amateur poetry. It is nothing special but quite good for a child of her sixteen years. I raised her well and with an iron fist, but she still has that gentleness and sense of what is proper about her…”
Flynn only nodded grimly, blocking out the rest of her speech. Constance would go into a flight of rage if she heard her mother speaking thusly of her poetry.
Leading the way he climbed the ladder into the loft first purposely keeping his back to her small attic chamber. He helped Ms. Mannering up and followed in her wake as she walked silently to the bed. She looked down and noticed the bump in the bed.
“Of all the lazy ingrates I have ever met, you Constance seem a constant surprise and beat them all, why must you plague this bed so. Even you should know we have guests, even in the midst of English poverty I have taken a dignity in our manners and I will not have you soiling our name with your sluggishness.” Flynn flinched each time her mother brought down more scorns and curses on Constance’s head each one worse than the last and deteriorating greatly in speech and language. It was obvious Belinda was embarrassed but in the long run it would prove advantageous that she find out now and not later.
Noticing her daughter’s stillness Belinda nudged Constance’s body with her toe. She knelt down beside the pallet and pushed gently. Constance seemed to have become worse. Her lips a pale blue and her skin deathly cold, she began having a coughing fit.
Flynn gasped and stooped beside Ms. Mannering. Belinda seemed to have frozen to the spot knelt and pulled Constance to her chest straining to warm her with body heat. “Arnold, help me, she is so cold.” She pulled her limp daughter from the pallet with some difficulty, because Constance was shaking and shivering violently.
Flynn leaned forward and grasped Constance firmly yet gently, cradling her like a doll. He nearly cried as he descended the ladder with the help of his father. Once at the bottom he held Constance in his arms and looked at her face. She was still shivering, and her fair pallor took on calm look while she mumbled slightly.
He began shaking her. His voice choked. “Wake up….snap out of it…please…wake up.” He stopped shaking her when a firm hand rested on his shoulder.
Ms. Mannering steered Flynn towards Ms. Mannering’s bedchamber. His father was already at the hearth building up the fire. Ms. Mannering swept past him briskly and pulled blankets from the bed.
“I assume you will know what to from here Flynn,” she said evenly, “Arnold and I must fetch a doctor.” And with that she left the room leaving the pile of blankets the hearth and the pillow in the room. He stared dumbfounded at the door. He welled up with anger he nearly exploded. They leave him here alone, probably to fulfill their own exploits, he thought pessimistically.
He set Constance down on the worn rug, rolled up his sleeves and set to work. First he would get her warm and wake her.

When Constance awoke she saw Flynn, stirring a black pot over the fire filled with a bubbling liquid. He turned around and walked around her. She sat up slowly, every muscle in her body pulled and ached, which was a relief after the frightening numbness.
She watched and waited placidly, as Flynn busied himself pulling some powder from a leather pouch, and sprinkling it on the bottom of a mug. He then pulled out a ladle and poured out the hot steaming liquid, water into the mug. He blew on it lightly and picked up a wooden spoon. He looked up and saw her watching him.
Relief was the first thing to flood his features then concern. He knelt down and before asking her anything or she asking him, he told her exactly what she wanted to know, “I’m going to spoon feed you some herbal tea, ”He followed action to words. “Do not panic, please, all will be well, but your Mother and my Father are doubtless rendezvousing instead of searching for a doctor. God only knows, how they can do that at a time like this.” He came to an abrupt stop at the look on her face. It was hurt.
“Well don’t be offended either. I seriously think our parents are courting each other and they want their space. Your mother was as you say, properly troubled, by your illness although I think you were just freezing to death. They will be returning soon and you will keep your mischievous glances to yourself, we don’t need them thinking anything more than anxious care went on.
“First of all I know what’s what, Flynn, so you needn’t lecture me like a child. Of all the----“
“Improper things.”
“This takes the cake! How could you? Why couldn’t you leave it to my mother, although I am eternally in your debt and grateful for you care on my behalf, I must decline your offer for further nursing as of now. Mother will be home soon, I will be well, and you will have nothing more to do with me.”
He paid no mind to her speech and popped another spoonful of tea in her mouth. He shoved the cup angrily into her hands and said, “If you are so well, drink yourself, feed yourself and most of all relieve yourself. I’ll be waiting in the parlor. You will hear no further arguments of attention from me.” He turned on his heel and walked out the door.
Constance felt ashamed. She had turned him away and berated him, and her lack of appreciation was evident. She sunk into her own gloom.
His head peeked in and he grinned a satanic grin almost, he uttered one word, “Kidding.”
She nearly choked on the anger she felt. She flung her mug at his head. It crashed against the wall and shattered, splashing tea and shards everywhere. She groaned.
Flynn said undaunted, “I’ve got it, it was an involuntary muscle spasm.” Her head snapped up shocked at his sarcasm. But he paid her no heed he was cleaning up the dripping tea. She turned her head away bitterly. She felt suddenly exhausted. I’m just like an old lady, she thought sullenly.
He watched her lay back and draw up the covers. He felt a pang of feeling he covered up while speaking softly to himself “Such a pitiful chit, I can’t believe I’ve stuck around so long. Probably, how pathetic she is.” It made Flynn feel considerably better and his sudden lapse seem invisible.
Constance slipped into a slumber and awoke again with voices buzzing in her head. When she shook the dregs of sleep from her brain she realized the voices were near. She got up even as each muscle screamed in protest. She leaned close to the door.
“It’s final and it’s out.” Arnold.
“I won’t deny it but it’s not over, dearest.” Mother. Dearest? She couldn’t be serious. What are they talking about? ‘Gasp’ surely her reputation wasn’t in shreds. She leaned forward eagerly.
“I believe we will have to cease our….er…attentions. It’s catching the eye of one too many of the village people and rumors have begun. It’s still too soon for you to mingle with men, Belinda, especially lovers. My Henrietta died eighteen years ago birthing Flynn. Gunther has only been dead----“
“Six Months! Long enough for me to mourn and move on. He wouldn’t want me alone. I need love! Don’t tell me you will walk away from this because of some silly talk! Flynn and Constance enjoy each other’s company and will deal well as brother and sister. And you could be mine. Please Arnold.”

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