Poise and Rationality

Clara clicked the heavy wooden door closed behind her as quietly as she possibly could before realising her stupid floaty dress was caught in it. Cursing silently, she unlatched the creaky catch and freed herself. She had re-routed herself halfway around the stately home in an attempt to avoid Simon. There was a definite inevitability to their meeting today but she wanted to put that encounter off as long as possible. Preferably until after she'd had the chance to down at least four proseccos.

Wedding traditions had been playing on her mind all morning since the Bride's snotty little sister had reminded her that the Maid of Honour was meant to dance with the Best Man at the reception. Clara had been bestowed with the head bridesmaid title since she was considered the most organised of the blushing bride's friends. The best man was unfortunately and somewhat fatalisticly, Simon; her ex.

Sally and Aiden were getting hitched at a cliche country pile on an even more cliche spring Saturday. Clara had even spotted a field of skipping baby lambs at the entrance of the manor when she arrived. Three years in the planning, Clara and Simon had been happily loved up back then and thrilled to hear of their mutual friend's engagement. Times had changed, Clara had changed and had ended their romance. Since then, her energy had been poured into attempting to avoid all the interrogations about her choice, a constant battle as all her friends, were their friends. Mostly no one deigned to take sides, apart from Aiden who had been somewhat more frosty towards her than the others but she couldn't really blame him for that. Simon and Aiden were those sort of ride-or-die bros that you wouldn't want to get in the middle of, especially not on match day. Clara had resisted revealing that their bromance had vaguly contributed to her uncoupling decision.

So now she found herself sneaking past the kitchens, hoping the map of the building in her head was accurate and she would be able to escape onto the patio at the end of the corridor, avoiding the lot of them for just a little while longer.

Relief swelled in her as she rounded the corner and spotted an open French door, the smell of cigarette smoke drifting in from the outside and muffled conversation faintly discernable just beyond the threshold. As she approached, Clara realised one of the voices belonged to Fearne, Sally's precocious younger sister. She paused, obscured behind the heavy drapes. Fearne wasn't a smoker, as far as Clara knew anyway. Was she about to uncover a dirty little secret that could be dangled above Fearne's judgy head next time she decided to side-eye Clara's life choices?

"I wouldn't have minded the colour no, it's the neckline that's bothering me," Fearne whined. "This cut works for, let's say, the slightly heavier set bridesmaids." A man chortled at her words and Clara, losing the last smidge of guilt she felt for eavesdropping leaned around the curtain to see Fearne stood with one of the waiters. Both of them gripping cigarettes, hanging lazily between their fingers. Fearne had adopted her signature preppy pose, arms folded across her torso, hip thrust out, ready to stir the pot as vigorously as she could get away with.

"What the Bride says, goes though, right?" The waiter grinned, eyeing Fearne flirtily. Clara almost snorted. She knew Sally's sister well enough to be sure she would never entertain hooking up with 'the help'. This guy was for sure barking up the wrong tree. Clara would have bet a lot of money that Fearne would be keeping him on the hook all night though, purely for the smokes and outlet for her vitriol.

"Yeah isn't that the truth." Fearne raised her eyebrow. "If only he knew what he was getting himself into, poor bloke."

The waiter took a drag on his cigarette, cooked his head and looked enquiringly at his gossip companion.

"Yeah, she's not the angel everyone likes to think she is." Fearne lowered her voice, Clara leaned as far around the curtain as she felt she could get away with.

"Last week I popped round to their flat to drop off the cufflinks she bought as a wedding gift for Aiden and his best mate was there, and let's just say he wasn't exactly... clothed." Fearne giggled while Clara felt the blood drain from her face.

"Nooooooooo," exclaimed the waiter gleefully. "His best friend, as in, his best man?"

Fearne nodded rapidly, smirking. "And I'm not telling. Sister dearest begged me not to say anything, claims it was just once, it was just a stupid mistake, pffft, I give them six months before her conscience takes over, Sally never could keep a secret, this will be killing her!"

Clara stared in disbelief at the pair in the doorway. If she wasn't in such shock at the revelation that Sally had been unfaithful, and with Simon of all people, she would be more appalled at just how callous Fearne was being towards her own sister. Numerous paths forward opened up in her mind. Should she tell Aiden, confront Simon, go straight to Sally? There was one thing she knew she wanted to do immediately. Summoning the most authoritative voice she could muster, she stepped out from behind the curtain into the doorway, glared directly at the pair and said;

"You know, you could've saved a lot of heartache if one of you had thought to close this goddamn door." 

Savoring the pure panic on Fearne's face as she spun around, startled by the sudden apperance of a third party, Clara turned on her heel and stomped back up the hallway past the kitchens, no longer worried about running into Simon. She had no plan of where she was heading, or who she was heading to, instead her racing mind told her to walk until she came across one of the involved parties and decide a plan of action from there.

Before she could reach the end of the hall however, a hand grasped her wrist desperately. Fearne had followed her inside, the look of panic, still clear across her features.

"You can't," she said simply, shaking her head. "You want to ruin this wedding?"

"Me! Ruin the wedding!" Clara's laugh was shrill but genuine. The idea that this was in any way her doing was utterly ludicrous.

With each passing moment, recklessness was rising in her chest. It didn't even matter if Sally was halfway down the aisle right now, Clara was perfectly prepared to bust in yelling "I object!" Fearne however clearly wasn't so ready for a public outing of the drama she was so readily spreading a few minutes prior.

"You know I have to stop you right?" The question wasn't an arrogant smirk, rather there was a genuine plea in her voice as she continued, "Don't make me do this."

Clara raised her eyebrows.

"Do what exactly?" She challenged, but Fearne's eyes had already started darting to the door over Clara's left shoulder and without hesitation she grabbed Clara by the hair and pushed her back towards the door, wrenching it open with her free hand. It was unclear to Clara in the folowing moments if Fearne had known there was a staircase directly behind the threshold, as she tumbled, in slow motion, for an eternity, hands grabbing for purchase but finding only smooth wood and stone. With one final smash on the back of her skull at the foot of the stairs, Clara could only just make out the blurry silhouette of Fearne still holding the door. The last thing she sensed before the door clicked closed and the world faded to black was Fearne's voice, distant and echoing;

"It's going to be a beautiful wedding."