The azure sky beamed brightly, as Lyllian Bankes’ attention was drawn to a flock of sparrows as they flew across the meadow. Examining the scene before her, meadows and fields stretched nearly as far as the eye could see. Behind her, protecting the city around which they stood, lay hills and valleys covered in wildflowers, clover, and patches of trees; all woven delicately into a green quilt designed by Mother Nature’s loving hand to create a scene of exquisite beauty and peace.
“Look at this pretty one, Lylli,” Caleb exclaimed, running through the field towards his cousin with a wildflower clutched in his hand.
“Yes, Caleb. It is pretty,” Lyllian said in hushed tones to the blond six-year-old. “But we must be quiet. We don’t want to wake that man.”
Some distance behind them on a small hill, laid a man, sleeping against the knarled old trunk of a tree. The tree was the largest of three that sat on the small hill, overlooking the spacious meadow and fields in which his horse grazed and where Caleb and Lyllian picked wildflowers. About halfway across the meadow, a large, beautiful river was drawn delicately into the green landscape which fed the sea on the other side of the city. The landscape was peaceful, serene; perfect for a mid-morning nap.
“I don’t know, Lylli,” Caleb said, after taking a minute to assess the well dressed man. “He looks rich.” Lyllian turned scolding eyes on the boy, but he turned to pick another flower. “I don’t see harm in waking up a stuffy, old, rich guy. He should probably be balancing his ledgers anyway.”
“Caleb!” Lyllian reprimanded.
Just then, she heard a twig snap behind her. Spinning around, she gazed into the handsome, and very much alert, face of the man they were discussing. As the man approached, her heart skipped a beat. Indeed, Caleb had been correct in assuming the wealth of the gentleman. His clothes were made of the finest fabrics yet his shirt was unbuttoned at the top, giving the man a relaxed and almost approachable look. His dark hair was rumpled making him unintentionally alluring and she realized he was probably in his early to mid-twenties.
“I’m sorry,” she said, distracting herself from his magnificent appearance. “Did we wake you?”
The man cleared his throat, looking slightly embarrassed to be discovered in such a state of vulnerability. “No, but I was wondering if you could tell me the time.”
Looking up at the sky she said, “I’d imagine it’s about half past ten, but I’m not certain.”
“Thank you,” the man said and turned to his horse to make the necessary preparations for his departure. Suddenly he turned back to look at her. In that second, every fiber of her being felt drawn to him; like a moth to the flame. He held her gaze for a moment before his eyes shifted to look somewhere behind her and then back again. Finally, the man asked, “I don’t mean to intrude, but might I inquire as to the occasion for which you are picking so many flowers?”
Lyllian glanced behind her to see the cart full of wildflowers and almost giggled at the sight of the wicker basket full of flowers that hung from her arm. She must look ridiculous. “There’s a ball being held at the Palace tomorrow evening. Ever since I was a little girl, I remember coming to pick wildflowers for the Queen for her balls.” She paused and smiled at the memory, and moving the small bouquet she held in her hand up to her face, she slowly, thoughtfully, inhaled their sweet fragrance, allowing their perfume to enhance the memory in her mind. Then, ever so gently, she laid the flowers with the others in her basket.
“Of course,” she continued. “I’ve never been to a ball at the Palace or anywhere else. But I can only imagine what it must be like. Handsome men and beautiful ladies dancing around an elegant ballroom, melodic music floating in the air, the sweet smell of wildflowers wafting through the ballroom, and the prince looking more dashing than a dream. Why, I’m sure it’s even more wonderful than a fairytale!” She gazed off into the distance and hugged her middle as she spoke. Pulling herself away from her thoughts she turned to the man and asked, “Would you like to help? It’s really quite an enjoyable and relaxing task.”
At first, he looked taken back and slightly surprised, but whether from her description of a ball or her invitation, she didn’t know. The handsome stranger did agreed to help, though perhaps somewhat reluctantly, and they picked flowers in silence for some time…
…“Will you be attending the ball tomorrow evening?” he asked.
She looked up stunned as hurt instantly washed over her. Had he not heard anything she had said? She could not afford to go to the ball and his insinuating that she might, cut deeper than she’d expected. She turned away from him, quickly blinking back the tears that threatened to spill onto her still rosy cheeks.
He seemed to realize his mistake in asking and immediately began to try and reverse the damage. “I apologize profusely for my insensitivity. My mind was not on the present. Please forgive me,” he said with deep regret in his eyes. With that, and with no response from her, he looked at the ground and muttered, “I should be going.”
She did not look at him for the hurt she felt was far too great. He must have sensed her great distress, however, and before leaving, he walked over to her, placed a finger on her chin, and gently lifted it until her eyes finally found his. He was so close to her, she could almost feel his breath on her face. His eyes were so rich and warm she could almost drown in them. And his nearness caused her heart to pound so hard she feared the noise might break the magic.
“I really did not mean to offend you, miss. I am deeply sorry.”
Hurt yet intrigued by his apology, and the butterflies in her stomach, she let her gaze explore his handsome face as his touch created a tingling sensation that seemed to travel throughout her entire body. His ebony hair was fairly short for the time but curly and hung slightly over his ears. She was sure she had seen him before. She searched his hazel eyes and found complete apology in them which gave her the courage to draw in a brave breath. “It’s all right,” which was not a complete lie. “My name is Lyllian Bankes. What’s yours?”
He looked at her, perhaps somewhat startled by her response. She had no idea who he was and could see in his eyes that it baffled him. As he continued to stare at her in astonishment, she could almost see the thoughts whizzing through his mind and tripping over each other. After a moment he finally said, “My name is Joshua.” And with that, he turned away from her, mounted his horse and rode away…
…By late evening, Joshua Phelps was sitting on the verandah drinking lemon tea with his mother. Illness had been her constant companion lately but tonight, she seemed to be feeling better. As rain slowly began to drizzle across the courtyard, he once again allowed his mind to revert back to the girl with the flowers. Lyllian Bankes. Her name tasted of sweet honey as it lingered on his lips. As he realized he had said her name out loud, he quickly glanced at his mother who seemed lost in her own thoughts and appeared not to have heard him.
“Do you know the girl who picks the flowers for the balls?”
Leonna Phelps was a lovely elegant woman with long, wavy, ebony hair like her son’s that she usually wore in a knot on top of her head, but tonight she had let it down and pulled it back at the sides with a pair of jeweled combs. She had eyes that glowed of amber and her lips were as red as ripe berries. Joshua respected this woman as both his mother and the Queen, but it was his mother he spoke to now.
She looked over at him with a puzzled look on her face, hesitated and then said, “Not very well. I knew her mother and her aunt, but I have not seen her since before her parents passed away.” Joshua waited for her to elaborate. She said simply but lovingly, “Why are you suddenly so interested in flower girls?”
He had not expected her to respond to his question with another question, but rather than have her interrogate him further, he stated flatly, “I met her this morning by our tree and was just wondering if you knew anything about her.”
He paused only for a second as he took a sip of tea before he blurted out, “Is she as innocent and naïve as she acts?” Leonna said nothing. “She looked at me as though I were the boy next door. And I’m almost positive she didn’t even know who I was!”
His mother looked at him with silent interest and amusement, and Joshua began to squirm uncomfortably in his seat; her gaze tormenting him. Her look told him that she found enjoyment from his discomfort. Unable to sit there and endure her scrutiny any longer, he stood and started to pace back and forth on the verandah as he attempted to sort things out in his head. “Of course I said something I shouldn’t have without even thinking, but...” he trailed off, hoping his mother would not press the issue he had started to bring up. “Why do I even care?” he nearly shouted as he threw his arms in the air for emphasis, throwing the contents of the cup he held over the railing and into the rain, quite by accident.
His mother looked at him with the years of knowledge and experience gleaming in her loving amber eyes. “Yes, I imagine she is a very beautiful girl,” was all she said.
“I did not say she was beautiful!” he nearly shouted at her, thrusting his cup onto the small table beside him, a little too forcefully.
“Oh, but you said so much more than that.” Leonna smiled as she watched her son continue to pace. The look on her face contained the speculation that she held a secret to this girl that few others knew. As she looked at Joshua, he also had the feeling she knew what was going on inside his head and it bothered him.
But before he could do or say anything to counter her earlier comment, she said, “Perhaps you would help Darren unload the cart of flowers tomorrow morning. I’m sure he could use the help. Otherwise, it could be evening before all the flowers are finally in place for the ball.”
She stood to leave, and as what she said began to sink in, Joshua put a hand up to stop her. “Who’s Darren?” he asked a little unnerved that their previous conversation was put to rest so quickly.
Smiling, she said softly, “Darren Newman. He’s Lyllian’s uncle.”
“Her who?” He paused for a moment and then as his temper got the better of him, he raved, “How did you know her name? I never told you! And why do you think I should help him? There are plenty of servants around here to help. Who usually helps him? I...”
“It doesn’t really matter who normally helps him,” the Queen cut him off sternly to prevent any further outbursts. Leonna was the Queen now, not simply his mother. “I just thought it would be nice if you stopped thinking about yourself for a while and helped someone out. I doubt you have too many pressing engagements tomorrow. Besides, I’m sure Darren has plenty of other things he could be doing, and probably would rather be doing, than unload flowers for a ball he will not even be attending.” Pausing momentarily to pull her shawl once again over her shoulder once again, she continued in a less stern voice as a mother would petition a son. “Now, will you help him?”
Humbled somewhat, Joshua sighed and nodded his agreement to carry out the task. As he leaned over to kiss his mother good-night, he paused and asked, “How do you know so much about this family? I have never heard you talk about them before.”
She gave him a tired smile and said, “That will have to be a bed-time story for another night. I must get to bed if I plan on doing much of anything tomorrow, especially attend the ball.” With that, Joshua kissed his mother on the cheek and watched as she disappeared into the Palace.
