Page 2 of A Lady’s Fairytale Come True
Mr. Digby was a happy man, always looking for the best in things. Even when a difficult situation arose, he would try to find the positive in it. Olivia had always appreciated that about him. He was a good man and an excellent father. He cared and provided for his daughters quite well. At least, as well as he was able.
“A perfect dinner, my dears. Absolutely perfect,” he commented.
Olivia knew that her father was simply trying to appease them, show them gratitude for their work. He didn’t enjoy the soup any better than he had the previous night or the night before that. After all, it was quite boring to eat vegetable soup day in and day out.
Nevertheless, Mr. Digby made every effort and, for Louise and Gemma’s sake, Olivia was thankful.
The next morning she was spending time with her sisters. They did not often have a chance for leisure, but in those stolen moments of sisterly affection and bonding, Olivia always enjoyed indulging them.
“Please do it like Lady Margaret’s!” exclaimed Louise, wincing as she pulled her hair too hard from Olivia’s grip.
“I shall do my utmost, but Lady Margaret is afforded the finest of hair. You and I have to squabble over the use of a mere brush. So please, calm yourself and stop pulling or you might just find yourself bald,” Olivia threatened.
Gemma giggled as she watched her two sisters argue. They had already given her a lengthy braid down her back, making the youngest twirl in delight as she tried to catch it from the opposite direction.
“I want to marry a prince and become a princess!” she announced suddenly, quite catching Louise and Olivia off guard.
“Oh? Indeed? And why should that be your primary goal in life?” Olivia challenged.
“Because everyone knows that it is the perfect life. To be a princess is the best thing we can dream of. What else is there?” Gemma asked innocently.
Olivia felt her face turn down and she focused more intently on Louise’s hair. The middle sister remained quiet as well. Olivia felt Gemma’s confused gaze, not understanding why her sisters did not indulge this fantasy with her. But Olivia simply could not.
It was true, to become a princess would seem to solve all their problems. But it was a chain, a binding on any young woman to whom it befell. And that was not something Olivia would want for herself or her sisters.
In reality, what she knew was that her sisters deserved a better life than the one they currently lived. She wondered how she might, one day, give them that. It seemed far from possible and it caused an ache in her heart to know that she was so incapable of providing for their future.
“Olivia, why do you never read us your stories anymore?” Gemma then questioned, settling in a huff on the chair opposite the elder two.
Olivia pursed her lips just slightly, continuing her work on Louise’s hair. “I suppose that is a good question,” she sighed.
It was quiet for a moment and Gemma was growing impatient. “Is there a good answer?” she asked.
Olivia smirked and looked up at her, trying to hide the pain from her eyes. “Well, I have not been writing them of late. Sometimes, life seems to get in the way and this was one of those times. I lack the inspiration to continue writing tales that might entertain you,” she confessed.
Under her breath and hoping that Gemma might not hear it, Louise remarked, “It really is a shame, though. You were so good at it. You always carried your notebook with you and you always had a new story to tell.”
“I remember…” Olivia replied vaguely, untangling a knot in Louise’s hair.
In truth, she missed her stories. Writing them had given her something to dream about, something to bring a semblance of hope to her life. But since her mother’s passing the previous year, it didn’t seem to matter any longer. Stories were so far from reality. What was the hope in dwelling in them?
“I want to see if Papa is home yet,” Gemma decided, standing and running out the door.
Their father had gone out to buy bread from the bakery, a treat they might have with their lunch later. But Olivia knew he was not home, she would have heard the door.
“Liv, you really ought to consider writing your stories again. I know that everything changed when Mother…when we lost her. But it doesn’t change the fact that you have a skill. And it is one you can share with the rest of us, to bring us joy. Won’t you at least consider it?” Louise encouraged.
Olivia thought about it, knowing her sister was right. When they lost their mother, she had felt that she had to grow up and become a mother for her sisters. She wanted to take care of them, to fill the void that had entered the home since. It was her sense of duty and a need to protect them that had caused her to abandon her own youthful ideas.
“I shall. In fact, I shall even see if I can find my last notebook. I know there were still a good deal of pages remaining,” Olivia decided.
Her mother had purchased her notebooks whenever they had been able to spare a small sum of money. Mrs. Digby had always encouraged Olivia’s imagination. And if this was what her sisters wanted from her, if her tales were greater than her actions as a mother, then stories had to be told.
“Right, your hair is finished. It is the closest I am able to get it to Lady Margaret’s.”
Louise felt around her head and seemed satisfied by the work done. “Thank you,” she said, kissing her sister on the cheek.
“You are quite welcome. Now, I think I am going to find that notebook and make my way into town. I need to get a few things from the market that Father has asked for,” she said.
