Dorothy

She walked through the town with her head held high, parasol resting daintily on her shoulder to shield her from the sun. She knew what they had said about her, the rumours that blew through the town worse than wildfire in the summer brush. Rumours that just happened to be true. Still, she would not be defeated by a secret that should never have been made to be kept in the first place. She was the same lady as she had always been, and would continue to be so. No matter what people may think.

People stopped as she passed, to stare or whisper or shake their heads in disgust. Some looked away from her, too ashamed to meet her eyes. This she had expected to some degree, understanding that some people were simply too set in their ways to understand.

Even knowing this, it was strange how the people who had held her in such high esteem only a handful of hours before, now could not bare to look at her, as if something had changed about her.

Yesterday the fact that she dared to walk the town without the accompaniment of a man was daring and modern. Now that that lush, Zelda-Mae, had spilled more than the cider she constantly tried to drown herself in, Angelica walking the sweetly quaint cobblestone street with no man by her side was deviant.

"Witch," one lady, Pam Baker, muttered as Angelica passed her shoppe. She crossed herself in silent prayer when Angelica paused to stare into her eyes, daring her to speak ill to her face. Pam Baker lowered her gaze under the scrutiny of Angelica's ice blue eyes. Angelica bought a single white daisy from Pam Baker's shoppe and continued on her way.

It was a lovely day for a stroll, sun shining and birds singing in the early afternoon. Angelica had half a mind to unbutton the top of her cloak to let the sun warm her pale chest.

Passing the church on her promenade, Angelica came across sister Agatha. A nun who had worked closely with Angelica's family for years. Whom she had known since childhood. Whom she had come to respect in her adolescence and now even still in her maidenhood.

Sister Agatha stepped forward to meet Angelica, blocking her path. Angelica felt the blossom of hope begin in her chest. Perhaps Sister Agatha would see that she hadn't changed.

"You need help child. You have allowed the devil and his ways compromise you, there is still time, pray with me please," Agatha begged.

Anger began to simmer in Angelica's blood, a hot pain beneath her skin that ached to be released. She took a deep, calming breath, "I am not wrong, sister, nor am I compromised by anything other than the most natural love."

The way Sister Agatha's eyes changed then, Angelica would never forget how quickly something perceived as understanding could turn to admonishment. The bud of hope in her heart withered and died in an instant. She tightened her grip on the stem of the daisy in her hand, bending it slightly.

"So be it. If you wish to live a godless life then you may burn in Hell like all of the others." Agatha all but spat at her.

Angelica rushed forward, now only wanting to make it to the shoemaker's shoppe before encountering any of the other townspeople who she had once considered to be friends.

Suddenly the sun seemed too hot on her skin, she was sweating beneath her cloak, parasol gripped tight in one hand, the daisy being crushed beneath the fist of the other. She walked faster than her eyes could conjure tears, knowing that if she could only get there, to see her again everything would be alright.

"Angelica," her sister, Maggie. Only a child. She was accompanied by one of their servants. Rosy ringlets framed the girl's face as she looked up at her sister with wide eyes of sky blue that had yet to turn to ice.

Angelica wiped at her eyes, pretending it was the flower causing her distress.

"Maggie, what are you doing out and about? Do you not have any studies today?"

Maggie wasn't fooled. She may have been only eleven, but she was no fool. "I've heard things about you today. Unfavourable things."

"And?" Angelica asked tipping her nose to the child, she hoped she could hide the sniffle under the guise of annoyance.

"And??" Maggie imitated her. "Is it true?"

An entire town full of gossiping adults spreading Angelica's name around like butter on bread and the only person to ask whether there was any sort of truth to the tale was an eleven year old girl.

Angelica lowered her defences, watching her sister. Her innocent, naive little sister. For the first time since she had heard about the rumours circling the town, Angelica felt the heat of shame rising in her throat. Her heart was held in an icy vice to which her sister, and all of her family, held in their hands.

"I'm afraid so." Angelica allowed the first tears she'd shed in months to blur her vision.

Maggie considered this a moment. Before nodding. "Alright." Was all she had to say on the matter.

"Alright?" Angelica asked, she furrowed her brow and dabbed at the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Yes, alright."

"Maggie," began Angelica, "Do you understand what that means?"

Maggie rolled her eyes, looking so much like Angelica, "Yes, sister. I am eleven, but I am not so naive."

"You aren't ashamed of me?"

Maggie's eyes softened. "No, not at all. I admire your courage." Maggie stepped closer to her sister, cupping a hand around the side of her mouth, "Do you really love her?"

Angelica chuckled, "Yes," she answered through her shaking breath.

Maggie nodded to the now irreparably damaged daisy in Angelica's grasp. "Is that supposed to be for her?"

Angelica nodded. "It was much nicer when I bought it."

"I'd hope so." Maggie snorted at the wilting flower. Then she looked around, thinking as the women in their family often seemed to do.

"I have an idea," Maggie smiled, clapping her hands together in glee.

* * *

Angelica stood at the door to the house behind the shoemaker's shop, nervously adjusting her cloak and the small bouquet of wildflowers that her sister had helped her to pick to support her wilted daisy. They'd tied the bouquet with one of the ribbons in Maggie's hair. It didn't look half bad.

The door opened and a man, Dorothy's father answered.

"Hello?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Hello, sir, my name is Angelica, I'm a friend of Dorothy's." Angelica offered him a sweet smile, a smile that widened when she saw her love peeking out from behind him. Her heart raced when she saw Dorothy take note of the flowers.

"I can handle this, father," Dorothy stepped forward, practically pushing her father from the doorway.

She accepted the flowers that Angelica had brought her.

"I heard the rumours," Dorothy said softly, she left her hands resting on top of Angelica's where they carried the bouquet together. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. I didn't think that she would tell anyone,"

Angelica shook her head, "There is nothing to be sorry for, my love. All is as it should be, right here, with you."