Ugly Rumors, Ugly Truths

Oh Lord! She is such a bore, Halle thought as she lounged in the shade, fanning herself and pretending to listen to Lady Courteney. The woman has been droning on about something to do with her children. Halle has been entertaining the woman for the better part of an hour and a half with faux enthusiasm with phrases like, “Oh how fantastic!” or “Good for him!” or “How exciting!”

What she would rather tell her is something like: “Oh! your son whose name I have no interest in remembering is going to a college I don’t care about! How exciting! Please tell me more about this thing that makes me wish I was never born so I would have never had to have this conversation!”

Maybe if she did speak her mind, Lady Courteney would get the hint and shut the hell up.

Probably not, Halle thought. She’s so dense it probably would go straight over her head.

“Oh yes! Absolutely,” Halle said in response to something Lady Courtney said.

Halle continued to fan herself and wrap her finger around a dusty blonde curl hanging around her chin. She moved her gaze across her father’s garden, looking at all of the beautifully ornate summer garb the guests were wearing.

Yellow is not the Viscountess' color at all, She thought. She looks jaundiced. 

She continued to stare at the Viscountess, wondering what the hell went through her mind as she was getting ready this morning to motivate her to wear such an unflattering gown.

“It's atrocious isn’t it?” A voice said from the right of her. 

Halle turned her head to find a fashionable young nobleman about her own age sitting where Lady Courteney used to be. 

The damn woman must have finally exhausted herself, she thought. Good riddance.

The young man continued, “I mean, it’s really bad isn’t it?”

Halle looked confused for a moment until she followed the man’s gaze to the Viscountess standing underneath the statue of Joseph.

“Really, quite horrible,” Halle said. “The color is absolutely horrendous.” 

The young man raised a hand to his chin, observing the Viscountess once again. 

“Yes it is. What would you call that particular shade?” 

“Piss,” Halle answered. 

The young man looked at her with cheeky amusement. 

“Why, it does remarkably resemble the color of one's dehydrated urine doesn’t it?”

“You know,” He leaned in closer to Halle, elbows on the little tea table between them, “I heard that her husband occasionally partakes in drinking his own urine.” 

Halle gave a malicious smile and leaned in closer to the man, gently touching his arm.

“You don’t say? What possibly for?”

“I heard it’s because he believes it to be the secret to a long life.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes. but,” he leaned in even closer. Halle could smell that he was drinking Jasmine tea.

“I also heard it’s because he gets pleasure from it.”

Halle gave a small gasp, grabbing onto the young man’s arm.

“You mean like…” 

“Yes,” the man whispered, “Exactly.” 

Halle cackled, putting a hand to her chest and bracing herself by grasping even harder onto the man's hand. 

“So that's why the Viscountess wears such ugly dresses!” Halle spoke in a harsh whisper. “Her husband likes it!”

“Yes,” the young man laughed, “That would be the most amusing conclusion.” 

Halle calmed down, released the man’s arm, and picked up her tea to sip. The man relaxed as well and leaned farther back in the petite garden chair, observing the rest of the party clustered in groups around hedges and statues of angels.

I rather like him, Halle thought. At least he’s not boring. 

Halle could see the stylish young man’s face turn to amused judgment whenever he overheard ladies speak of nonsensical rubbish, or of men trying to embarrass each other with tales of their idiocy. 

Halle turned her eyes away from him to observe the party as well. That’s when she noticed Beryl working her way through the party, offering patrons pastries from a tray.

Halle straightened her posture slightly and smoothed down her dress. She began to fan herself again.

“Macarons, Lady Halle Arden?” Beryl said quietly with a small curtsy.

Halle looked at Beryl a moment before answering, observing how her incredibly short hair created a halo around her small face in the sun.

Her skin always gets a slight tan this time of year, Halle thought.

“Yes, thank you Beryl.”

Halle took a green macaron from the platter. She tried to keep a composed manner about herself as Beryl knowingly smiled at her. 

Damn her, Halle thought. She makes it so difficult.

Beryl offered the tray to the young nobleman. 

“Macaron…” She trailed off, unsure of how to address him.

He looked offended.

“Matthias Millbourne. Lord Matthias Millbourne.”

Beryl nodded a graceful apology.

Matthias leaned over the tray of sweets for a moment, as if studying which one would be sufficient enough for him. He chose a macaron from the tray and waved Beryl off with a passive hand. Beryl smiled once more over her shoulder towards Halle.

Halle watched her leave their spot in the garden, continuing her way through the groups of expensively dressed people. Halle observed her polite movements, always ready to serve.

She’s so unlike anyone else here, Halle thought. She speaks respectfully without any simulated enthusiasm. Unlike Lady Courtney or Lord Millbourne. Unlike me.

Halle sat with this thought until Matthias tossed his macaron onto the little table between them. 

“I don’t trust food handled by servants.” 

Halle looked down at her own pastry. She didn’t even really desire one, she just wanted to find an excuse to talk to Beryl. She quietly put the macaron onto a little china plate.

“You know,” Matthias said “I’ve heard a rumor about a serving girl in your father’s manor.”

Halle’s heart dropped.

“I heard about a serving girl who fancies women.” 

Halle didn’t look at him. Instead she attempted to act relaxed and fanned herself vigorously.

“Women you say?” Halle responded with a slight shudder in her voice. “How utterly absurd.”

“Is it as absurd as a Viscount who drinks his own urine?” 

Matthias leaned in close to her now, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek Halle’s face burned.

“All of a sudden you seem unwilling to indulge in lighthearted gossip,” his voice bounced in her ear. 

“My Lord,” she responded shakily, “ you are talking about my father’s estate. I can assure that he would not tolerate no such behavior among any rank of staff.”

She tried to look him in the eyes, but he had a predatory gaze that was completely directed at her.

“Oh! I didn’t intend to insinuate anything about your father.”

Her breathing became even more heightened and no amount of fanning was keeping her perspiration at bay. Matthias looked her up and down. His eyes practically burned through her. He smiled, shook his head and finally leaned back from her face. He got up from the garden chair.

“You’re a mess Halle, and everyone knows it.” 

He left her. 

And everyone knows it. Those words ran through her mind rapidly.

She knew what it meant. She knew what everything Matthias said meant.

After all, no one knew better than Halle how easily rumors can travel.