“This flower...”
A while later, Chloe’s attention was arrested by an embroidery at a particular booth. As she pulled gently on Lloyd’s hand, her steps slowed to a stop. The piece featured a flower found in Shadaf, its name just on the tip of her tongue. Hardenbergia, was it? She struggled to recall. It’d been ages since she last saw one; they didn’t grow in the capital.
The embroidery reproduced the flower’s characteristic purple corolla with stunning accuracy and vibrancy, shimmering like gemstones under the light of the hall. A delicate butterfly, rendered in lighter hues, seemed to flutter around it, amid glistening dewdrops. Set against a brighter backdrop, the dark bloom radiated a sense of serene, grounding calm. Chloe felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her.
“Something catch your eye?” Lloyd inquired, noticing Chloe’s rapt attention.
Chloe remained speechless, lost in a sea of memories. Something about the stitching technique, the placement of the delicate knots, evoked recollections of her childhood, of days spent learning to embroider...
It’s too similar to be a coincidence, she pondered. Almost automatically, she found herself asking the stall attendant, “Excuse me, sir, but is this your work?”
The man was broad-shouldered, with the demeanor of a gentle giant; stubble dotted his well-balanced face. Short wavy hair bobbing slightly, he shook his head. “No, I’m just helping out here,” he replied, his smile warm and inviting. “All these pieces are my wife’s creations.”
“Your wife?” Chloe echoed, her curiosity piqued.
“That’s right.” His gaze suddenly shifted past Chloe and Lloyd. “Ah, and here she comes now.”
As Chloe turned around, her eyes widened in recognition. “Shirley?!” she exclaimed.
“Lady Chloe...?” The response came from a familiar face.
The woman who had been more than a handmaiden at the Ardennes estate, who had cared for Chloe for over half her life, stood there in disbelief. Shirley could hardly hide her surprise.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Here you go, milady,” Shirley offered, placing cups of water on the low table in the hall’s rest area.
“Thank you, Shirley,” Chloe responded warmly.
Seated together, just the two of them, Chloe and Shirley reconnected after years apart. Lloyd had graciously given them privacy, understanding the significance of their reunion after Chloe had given him a quick summary. “Take your time to catch up; I’ll be here,” he had said. Grateful for his consideration, Chloe savored the moment of reuniting with Shirley.
“It’s almost surreal to see you here, milady,” Shirley confessed, her voice tinged with emotion.
“The same goes for me,” Chloe agreed, her eyes reflecting her surprise. “I never expected to meet you again, let alone at a place like this.”
“I’m honored you recognized my work,” Shirley admitted.
“How could I not?” Chloe smiled. “Your embroidery was the beginning of everything for me. It’s unforgettable.”
Shirley’s hand fluttered to her heart, visibly moved. “Oh, milady...”
Chloe observed the subtle changes in Shirley. It had been six years since their paths last crossed. Shirley’s hair, once short, now cascaded past her shoulders. Gone was the familiar maid’s uniform, replaced by a charming dress. Yet the warmth in her eyes and her gentle demeanor remained unchanged, as did her seemingly ageless appearance.
“To think that flower would bring us back together,” Shirley mused. “It’s like fate.”
Chloe nodded. “It really is. Hardenbergia means... Oh, what was it again?”
“Miraculous reunion,” Shirley supplied, her voice soft.
“Yes, that was it!” Chloe’s face brightened.
Shirley’s eyes held a tender expression. “This reunion does feel fated, milady.”
At that last word, Chloe hesitated. “Shirley,” she said tentatively.
“Yes, milady?”
“Would you mind not calling me that anymore? ‘Milady,’ I mean. You’re not my servant anymore.”
Shirley’s response was swift, yet respectful. “That may be the case, but in my heart, you’ll always be Lady Chloe. Asking me to change now would be like asking the sun to rise in the west.”
Oh, she hasn’t changed. Not one bit, Chloe thought, a wave of nostalgia washing over her. Shirley’s unwavering earnestness, compassion, and decorum were just as she remembered. At the estate, those traits had made Shirley a beloved figure, despite her recent arrival, and Chloe often thought that Shirley’s popularity had been pivotal in having successfully argued for Chloe’s life. “I’m so glad to see you haven’t changed, Shirley,” Chloe said, her voice tinged with fondness.
Shirley’s giggle was light and joyful. “I wish I could say the same about you, but...” She let her gaze travel over Chloe, from head to toe. “My, how you’ve grown, milady. And you’ve become so beautiful.”
Shirley had been absent during Chloe’s most transformative years, having left when Chloe was just ten. Though she’d tried her best to shield Chloe from the servants, there had been little she could do against her family. She remembered Chloe as a worn-down child. Gaunt, her skin covered with bruises and welts, she’d looked nothing like the radiant and thriving girl before her now.
“Yes, Lloyd has treated me very well,” Chloe admitted, her cheeks coloring slightly.
“I can certainly tell,” Shirley noted. “But why is Your Ladyship in the capital? Is Mister Lloyd your suitor? A lord from here?” She jutted her body out, her curiosity palpable. As only names had been exchanged earlier, Lloyd and Chloe’s relationship still remained a mystery.
Chloe hesitated, not wanting to dampen Shirley’s enthusiasm. “It’s not quite like that... My journey here has been...complicated.”
“Complicated, milady?”
“Do you have time? This might be a long story.”
“All the time in the world. My husband can handle the booth.” Shirley sat up attentively. “Please, tell me everything that’s happened since I left.”
Shirley was acutely aware of the hardships Chloe had endured back in Shadaf. Chloe’s current demeanor suggested her story since then was far from light. But Shirley was prepared to listen, to understand every detail of Chloe’s life in the years they were apart.
“All right, then...” Chloe whispered, sorting through her memories, deciding where to begin her tale.
✦ ✦ ✦
Meanwhile, at the other end of the exhibition hall...
“...so the type of thread, the weave of the fabric, the type of needle you use, it all has an effect on the finished product. This piece, for example, is stitched with silk thread. Silk thread is lustrous and silky smooth, creating this beautifully delicate, dainty feel.”
“I see, I see...”
...Lloyd and Kevin, Shirley’s husband, were deep in conversation. Kevin held up one of the displayed embroideries, using it to illustrate his point.
“It’s fascinating. You’re able to describe your craft so clearly,” Lloyd remarked appreciatively.
“Naw, not me. That’s all my wife. Everything I learned, I picked up from being around her,” Kevin said, gently returning the embroidery to its place.
Lloyd fell silent for a bit.
“Do you enjoy being married?” he asked.
“Do I enjoy being married?” Kevin echoed, only a little taken aback by the bizarre shift in topic.
“Sorry, that was a strange thing to ask.” Lloyd quickly tried to backtrack, just as bewildered as Kevin to have asked someone he just met such a personal question. Well, he had an idea—the question had sprung from the conversation with Freddy; it’d been lingering in his mind ever since.
However, Kevin seemed to understand there was a deeper meaning behind Lloyd’s question. “Well, I suppose I do,” he replied thoughtfully, stroking his chin. “If you want one man’s opinion, marriage, to me, is about companionship, support, and enjoyment. As far as that goes, I am truly glad I married my wife.” His voice carried a note of pride and sincerity. “If you feel at ease, have fun together, and can count on your partner to be there to see you through both good times and bad, then I believe marriage is something wonderful.”
Lloyd pondered Kevin’s words, reflecting on his own relationship with Chloe. Did they have fun together? Did he feel at ease? Would she stand by him in difficult times? The answers came to him effortlessly. His gaze dropped to a row of embroideries furnished with price tags. While the day’s event was primarily an exhibition, nothing stopped Shirley and Kevin, along with most other booths, from offering items for purchase. “Are these pieces for sale?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” Kevin affirmed.
“Then I’ll take that one off your hands,” Lloyd said, pointing decisively to a specific embroidery.
Kevin’s eyes widened. Lloyd’s unusual question earlier, his choice of purchase—all of it culminated to one astonishing conclusion. “Lloyd, you don’t mean to...?”
Fire flickered in Lloyd’s eyes. “Yes, I do.”
Kevin’s smile broke through, a mix of admiration and brotherly solidarity. “Good luck, my friend.”