One Hat For Dorothy

[TW: The story is relatively light hearted, but there's mention of cheating, sexist beliefs (the MC does not endorse them, but they are mentioned), and it also talks about the sexual life of the MC and her brother.]

“If you’re telling the truth, I’ll eat my hat.”

“Now, why would you do that?”

Dorothy looked over at her brother with a frown. “Why would I do what?” She wasn’t sure if her brother was being obtuse on purpose or if he was just stupid, but she, out of the kindness of her heart, decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Eat your hat. I’m sure you’d get sick and have to be hospitalized.”

He was being dead serious, Dorothy realized.

She loved her brother, as any good sister would, perhaps because he was her twin or maybe it was the fact that he always went along with whatever it was that she wanted to do. She wasn’t sure. Her mother told them, when they were much younger than they were now, that one can’t chose their family but can chose whether to love them or not. Her aunt, a sound and sensible woman, immune to whatever eccentric or demonic disease that had befallen Dorothy’s mother, on the other hand, defended that family was sacred and one must love and respect it as is their holy duty.

So Dorothy wasn’t sure if she loved Damien despite the fact that he was her brother, or because of it, and, as it was often of her, decided she’d have to give a good thinking on whether to keep loving him or not, as it was clear as day that he was stupid.

People knew idioms. Everyone knew idioms. Everyone used, abused, and rejoiced in them. They were, as their mother called them, “the wisdom of the fool”.

But perhaps Damien had been spending way too much time with their beloved mother. She was prone to fits of nonsense, where she’d spout blasphemous things (at least according to their aunt) or engage in disgraceful things (also according to their aunt).

She’d never questioned her mother’s teachings before. Arianne, daughter of a rich velvet merchant, had always been somewhat odd. Too much of a free spirit to be bound by the earthly shackles of marriage, she’d given birth to a set of twins out of wedlock. A tragedy. The entire community joined forces against her, Arianne, the promiscuous lover of Satan, but not even the bankruptcy of her father’s business made her regret her decisions – although, it might be important to mention that being sorry wouldn’t have done her much good, as the father of her children was already married to another woman.

“He proposed we killed her so that we could be together.” Arianne confided in them once. “So romantic of him, don’t you think? But I refused. I had to. Can you imagine me as someone’s wife?”

They couldn’t, or at least Dorothy couldn’t. Her mother was too stubborn, too certain of her own convictions. She didn’t believe men and women to be different from one another, one superior and one inferior, nor did she believe in being someone else’s property. She belonged to herself and herself alone.

It would have been nice if she’d belonged to her children as well. Not that she’d been a bad mother; she’d actually been incredibly loving and caring. Arianne’s father had moved his company to another country, where he continued to grow his fortune, and Arianne herself had decided to go live by the seaside, where no one knew her or wanted to burn her at the stake, and she had even managed to open her own little apothecary.

She’d raised her children to be independent, intelligent, diligent, kind, compassionate. She’d fed them, clothe them, and even taught them everything she thought they ought to know, from proper etiquette to how to throw a good punch. She never raised any question when Dorothy decided to cut her hair short, like a boy, or when Damien decided he only wanted to wear dresses for a year. She was odd, particularly so, but harmless.

Perhaps Dorothy had been spending too much time with her aunt, who had recently decided to invite her to her house overseas to spend the season with her after her husband’s unexpected death, and that was why she’d become so prejudiced and obnoxious. She would have to tend to that at a later date. If only her mother had opposed to her going, now she wouldn’t feel so resentful towards her.

But she deserved to be resentful, she did. Her mother had raised them to be wonderful people, but she’d given them almost no preparation for the real world. Sure, Dorothy knew how to curtesy and how to dance the valse, but she had had no idea of how to hold a proper conversation with another member of society before going to her aunt’s. Girls of her own age did not care for the latest scientific inventions, nor did they understand the concept of a woman being as worthy as a man. Her aunt had taught her so, so much. Maybe she was a bit rougher now, but what of it?

At least she wasn’t like her brother, who clearly did not understand a simple idiom. Her mother had never said one in front of them, that was for sure. She’d mentioned the idea vaguely every once in a while, without ever actually getting into what they were or what they meant. She’d never explained why she didn’t like or use them either. Perhaps she simply didn’t think them as necessary, but a reputable member of society must know at least one or two to be fashionable!

“It’s an expression.” Dorothy began. “It’s something someone might say, for instance, when the person they’re having a conversation with is defending the utmost absurd idea.”

“So, you say it when you believe the other person is wrong, because you’re so convinced of your own word? Meaning you don’t actually believe you’ll have to eat your own hat. But what if you do? What if you’re wrong?”

She frowned again, then breathed deeply and soothed her face. Her aunt said frowning made girls uglier, age faster even, and had taught her how no void her expression from any emotion other than contempt and devotion to God. Dorothy wasn’t so sure about God, as her mother wasn’t particularly religious and being an atheist hadn’t proven to be a bad thing until now, but she liked the idea of remaining young and beautiful forever, so she tried to calm herself down and have more patience with Damien.

Another thing she’d learned from her time abroad was that her brother was not like other children. Growing up, they’d never had much interaction with other boys or girls, reason why Dorothy never realized she didn’t know how to make friends before being invited to live with her aunt. For her entire life, she’d only known her mother, her brother, and the house staff. Thanks to her aunt, an entire new world appeared before her eyes. After only four months away from home, having met countless young gentlemen and ladies, she’d realized certain eccentricities both her brother and mother shared were not “normal”.

So, at this very moment, she wasn’t sure if Damien wasn’t understanding what she meant because he didn’t want to, or because he couldn’t. It never occurred to her that perhaps she wasn’t explaining herself clearly enough, which is why she decided to give up on the conversation and concentrate on the task at hand.

“If you’re wrong, you eat your hat, I suppose.” She let out, then pulled his arm. “Now focus. Are you sure that is him?”

Damien closed one of his eyes and reached out a hand, that Dorothy slapped back into place before they could be noticed lurking behind the tree. She could deal with all the gossip about her mother’s oddity, but having her labelled as a pervert simply wouldn’t do.

“Yes, that is him. I’d recognize his shoulders anywhere.”

Dorothy questioned this remark but didn’t say anything.

The twins were hiding, as it has already been mentioned, secretly spying on a rather dashing gentleman. Dark hair, rich like chocolate. Eyes of a dazzling green, framed by the longest lashes. Soft, plump, juicy lips. Arms that could hold you until morning. A reputation that preceded him as the most passionate lover a man could hope to be, especially at such a young age.

His name was Edmund. He had moved there six weeks prior, with his sister, a frail little thing who was always sick, and his parents, both rich, both extremely handsome, both secretly having an affair with a member of their household staff, or so did the gossip go. No one was sure of the truth yet, of course, as neither party was too keen of the idea of confirming said rumor. But perhaps there was some truth to it. Perhaps Edmund’s parents were as depraved as the town murmured them to be, as Edmund himself had been courting two people at the same time.

Dorothy and Damien.

Now, Dorothy didn’t believe courting to be a set-in-stone-marriage-proposal, nor did she know whether she believed or not in marriage and all it represented (perhaps she hadn’t been spending so much time with her aunt as she thought), but she certainly didn’t think it was proper, or even fair, to spend the night with someone when you weren’t being serious about your feelings for them.

And Edmund had spent the night with them, the both of them, Dorothy and Damien! The girl’s stomach took a turn. There was something rather incestuous about this entire situation, was there not? Of course, she and her brother weren’t that much alike, but she’d always thought them similar enough to be immediately perceived as, at the very least, siblings. How could Edmund not have noticed?

How could she not have noticed?

She’d come back home two weeks ago, missing her family dearly and desperate to share with them all the precious new things she’d learned with her aunt. She found her mother uninterested, as it was usual of her when it came to her own sister, and even dismissed of some of the stories Dorothy had to tell. She’d never felt less than loved by her mother, but having her laugh at the things she said had hurt. Of course, she had to remember that her mother and aunt shared very different values, but it still stung to be mocked.

As for her brother, he was more curious about the food she’d tasted than anything else she’d had to say, and so, frustrated, she’d left the house and straight to the nearest gentlemen’s club. Her aunt would have died of a heart attack if she saw her there, but there was a lot her aunt didn’t know (the night affairs Dorothy chose to engage in, for instance), and besides, if she hadn’t gone there, she would have never met Edmund.

He had been waiting for someone who never showed up, and she had been alone. He was the only person closest to her age, and so she had decided to approach him.

Perhaps it was the rage that burned inside her, perhaps it was the liquor, but she sat down and talked to him as if she’d known if for years. It helped that he was new in town, so he didn’t look at her quite the same way everyone else in the place did (they had lived there for 17 years and had never engaged in any public activity because of their mother; of course people would stare!), and after a couple of hours it was clear that there was a spark between the two of them.

When Dorothy got home, one of the cooks heard her giggles and came to see her. They talked for a little, and as usual the woman gave her all the gossip there was to know in town about Edmund and his family. The possibility of a scandal with his parents didn’t scare her, and so she’d gone to find him the next day.

For the next two weeks to come, they met every single day, sometimes for a brief couple of minutes, other times for hours and hours. Eventually Dorothy had decided she was in love, or at least decided to be in love with Edmund, as he was everything she could hope for in a match. He made her laugh, he was courteous, didn’t mind admitting his faults, and, as every other girl noticed, extremely pleasing to the eyes.

But it seemed Edmund had caught the attention of someone else other than the girls in town. Damien, so it seemed, had been enjoying the company of the boy as well, going on walks, romantic picnics, naked dips in the sea, and a night so full of lust Damien had come home blushed beyond measure.

Dorothy hadn’t been able to hide her curiosity, and so she demanded he told her what he’d been up to. How she regretted her impulsivity. She should have known better, should have listened to her aunt and keep to herself, be a good girl, let her brother come to her if he wished to, should have sent him away the moment he started to speak of his affairs. It wasn’t up to a girl to know what a man did or didn’t do with his free time, much less with the company of another. But alas, Dorothy was her mother’s daughter, and she wasn’t a good girl.

When Damien told her, she hadn’t believed him. Not because he was a known liar, but because she didn’t want to hear such things about Edmund, her Edmund. But the way her brother spoke, the way his eyes shone as he told her of how dearly Edmund embraced him… he must be telling the truth. He had to.

Still, she had wanted to be sure, and so she had asked him to go to town with her the next morning and point to her the boy he was speaking of. She had already told him of her own courting with Edmund, of course, and her brother, although shocked, hadn’t seemed as enraged as she was. Could he have changed this much in only a matter of months? Could he be so naïve and stupid, and yet so cruel and cold? One must certainly not have a heart to not mind such a betrayal.

Or maybe he was holding his emotions just in case their fears were nothing but that. And yet, here it was, the truth. Edmund had, indeed, been toying with the both of them. And her brother still seemed composed, still looked as calm as he was when they’d eaten their breakfast that morning. How could he not be furious?!

Dorothy grasped her skirts once again and darted towards Edmund.

Her brother hurried behind her, calling her as quietly as one could without drawing too much attention. Dorothy didn’t care for the attention. The entire town could be watching, she could end up being the town’s talk by morning, but none of that mattered. She was mad and she was disgusted, she was murderous, and she was feeling violent.

Edmund heard her come and turned. His face went pale as he saw her expression; her aunt’s advice long forgotten, Dorothy’s face was an open book to the emotions that raged inside her.

“You.” She pushed Edmund with an accusatory finger. He looked around, clearly looking for a witness, and a sense of relief washed over him as Damien reached his side. Seeing Edmund raise a hand to her brother, a clear request for help, made her feel even worse. She slapped his fingers. “How dare you. How dare you deceive us?”

Edmund looked between the two of them, realization dawning on him.

“You…”

Dorothy interrupted him. “Yes, we. We know. We know you have been meeting the both of us in secret. How dare you? How dare you make us believe your words of love when they clearly mean nothing? How dare you make us believe you’re better than your parents, when you’ve been laying with brother AND sister?”

Edmund’s face paled further. He took a few steps back, looked behind him. His sister was now coming out of the flower shop, and they’d even caught the attention of some passersby. He wanted to avoid a scandal, but if he wanted to avoid a scandal, he should have avoided lowering his pants to so many people at the same time.

“Now, that’s enough.” Damien grabbed Dorothy by the arm and started dragging her away. She fought against him and even cursed a few nasty words (so unladylike!). “You’re making a spectacle. You’ve proven your point. Let us go home.”

She removed herself from her brother’s grasp and let out a scream before marching behind him in silence.

As the buildings started to vanish behind them and they approached their manor outside of town, Damien turned to his sister with a presumptuous smile on his face, completely oblivious, or perhaps indifferent, to the great injustice they’d both suffered.

“I told you I was telling the truth. Will you eat your hat now?”