Cloudless 1

Catherine had always thought a funeral was a terrible way to start a day. And standing here now, underneath a storm threatening sky, did nothing more than prove that fact. Catherine stood stiffly in her starch black dress, staring at the weeping faces around her. Tears flooded down in waves, off faces large and small, old and young. The same wasn't for her. Now of course, any funeral is a sad and terrible. But Catherine didn't just cry for anyone, nor anything. Catherine believed that one was bestowed a limited amount of tears, and that they should not be shed freely. The deceased name was Mister Herbert Clancy.

Mr. Clancy was her uncle's employer. In respect of his brother, Catherine's father was front and center, by his side. And like a good family, herself and her mother were behind him. It was a sad state of things, and though she knew Mr. Clancy, Catherine could not even sniffle for such a man. Mr. Clancy was horrid, rude, vain, and ostentatious. For the sake of this man, Catherine was to stand here. It was a sad affair nonetheless; one that Catherine did not wish to partake in. The preacher was going on and on, talking about Mr. Clancy life and all the people he affected. Catherine's mind however was somewhere else entirely. Catherine's mind was on the books that were sitting in her bookshelf unfinished. Or the concerto that she hadn't mastered yet on the pianoforte.

Or even better, Catherine couldn't help but think about the baby blue birds that were just about to hatch in the great fir tree in the garden. Catherine wanted nothing to do with the funeral, for she felt there was so much good that could be done today, instead of standing her feigning grief. For being spring, it was surprisingly bad weather. The sky was gloomy and bleak, with gray clouds. It was cold and damp, a fine layer of dew collecting on everything. Though her dress provided her some warmth, Catherine still felt the chills up her spine as she stood sinking into the muddy earth beneath her too tight shoes.

Catherine had to stifle a yawn and rolled her eyes at the obnoxious blabber coming from the wide mouth of none other than Mrs. Harriett Ross. Mrs. Ross was the largest in wealth and in girth in the town. All this money did nothing for her personality, but make her idle brained and less than amiable. But wealth always has a way of blinding people to the truth and everyone was always very willing to be by her side. Mrs. Ross was acquainted with Mr. Clancy, for he was her accountant and though he disliked the woman greatly she was eager to speak of their close relationship to anyone who would lend an ear.

"Oh lo! What a shame! Such agony! My poor Mr. Clancy. How dear he was to my heart. Always so ready to aid me in whatever way possible Always on call! How many people I've lost to the high heavens but Mr. Clancy, really! They say the good lord giveth and the good lord taketh away. But Mr. Clancy, never have I known a better mathematician!" she exclaimed loudly.

People were quick to offer their condolences as she continued to wrack her body with pains. Catherine loathed the woman greatly and paid little to no attention to her. Even when she was invited over, Catherine only made sure to give her the least possible civility. The sermon waned on and Catherine grew more and more irritated. "Enough already! I can not take this any longer." She thought to herself as the sun, barely visible in the sky, continued to move higher and higher. It took till noon and then it was finally ended. The preacher closed the holy book in his hand and Mr. Clancy's casket was buried beneath the ground. Mr. Clancy had no wife nor son or any other family relations here in Havenswood. And those outside it cared little, if not anything for him. The funeral had now ended and the party moved quietly and somberly away from the small graveyard outside the church.

Catherine took her mother's arm as the soft sounding group walked slowly to the banquet that awaited them at Mrs. Ross's manor, who offered to fund the entire funeral on behalf of being so close to the deceased. Mrs. Ross's estate was wide and obviously the best estate in all of Havenwood. It was nestled in a beautiful wood and fitted with an enormous garden with a small brook running through it even. Havenswood was also the oldest manor as well in Havenwood. Leading the party was the Mrs. Ross herself, the large lady jiggling with each movement and failing her large meaty arms in the air.

Alongside her was Mr. Ross, a thin, pale, slight man who never said much. There was no need really because the unhappiness was clearly etched into his face. Mr. Ross had been worn down into a shadow of the man he once was. He looked oddly brittle, brittle as a bird as he walked, or rather scuffled with the rest of the flock. Passing through the gates and walking up the gray path to the door was interesting enough. Catherine took great note of the different flowers that grew along the path, or the various ferns that inhabited the distant wood.

Everything interested her but the present subject at hand. Catherine spoke not very much when in a public she had no liking for. It was not to soon that they arrived at the ornately carved doors of Haven Head, as Mrs. Ross's living was named. The servants opened widely the doors and they all gracefully passed through. Haven Head was like no other estate here. Gold foil, silver, marble, and granite greeted them as the entered. The house was filled with marble bust, great portraits, and the finest wood. But as fitting Mrs. Ross, the estate was overtly gaudy and the decor soon became too much for her taste.

Though everyone else in the party unabashedly complimented and threw himself or herself at Mrs. Ross, hoping to win her favor. The guests were led through the house into the great room. It was large, wooden floored, fit with a great fireplace and rows of books. Servants came with brunch. Cucumber sandwiches and petite fours were served, along with tea and coffee, sugared and dried fruits and all other delectable delights that Catherine helped herself too. Looking around she saw her father talking to her uncle, and her mother. Though watching, her mother turned her head and seemed to be searching for someone. Seeing Catherine, she waved her over and Catherine proceeded. Catherine joined them and smiled politely.

"Oh darling. Your uncle here was just telling your father and I was just talking of you accompanying him to Desmond. Now it has been long since you have seen your aunt and cousins. I think going to Desmond would be more than fitting. Actually the whole family can go. It would be ever so pleasant. And your sister, yes, Gretchen will surely have to come. She will be tremendously excited. For she has long been crying to see the outsides of her home now that the weather is fairer and the snow all gone." Her mother said in an assured voice.
Her uncle nodded his agreement.

"Yes, yes, indeed. Gretchen must come; the children will be delighted to have a play date. And you shall enjoy Desmond now that you are older to appreciate it Catherine. My work unfortunately keeps me away and I haven't been to see you, or any of you rather, as much as I should." He answered.

"Ah yes but when would we leave?" Catherine asked.
"Well this unfortunate event will keep me in town for a good month I suppose and then, I suppose if you are all ready, we can travel by coach to Desmond."
"I would like so very well uncle. Aunt Roberta, I haven't seen her in ages and I would be pleased to get to know her again." Catherine said with true sincerity.

Though Catherine did not at all get along well with many, her uncle and aunt had always been pleasant and kind to her family and herself. Catherine couldn't even remember when last she had been away. The snow had kept traveling at bay for quite a while, but now was the time for visiting and calling upon. Well Catherine took off as her parents continued to talk with her uncle. Catherine walked through a sea of black, and dull colors. At the end of the great room she saw sat Mrs. Ross, her gross figure atop a settee, and whatever subject she was blubbering about seemed to captivate all those around her.

Catherine rolled her eyes as she walked trying to find somewhere out of this less than pleasing situation. Luckily, Catherine spied French doors at the opposite end of the room and walked without delay, seeing the fresh air. Coming upon the door, Catherine smiled and breathed in air. Walking out on the balcony, Catherine looked around her, seeing a maze garden that was lovely kept. Past that was a little walkway lined with flowers and beyond rows and rows of great trees. The darkness called to her, and demanded exploration. It was all so serene, and Catherine managed to block out the chatter that she left behind her.

Lost so deeply in her thoughts, Catherine let out a yelp when a heavy hand touched her shoulder. She spun round, eyes wide and mouth agape. Her surprise only grew when her mind finally registered the face in front of her.
"Quinton!" Catherine screamed loudly, clapping her hands together.

The boy who stood in front of her was none other than Quinton Charles. The smooth skin, and perfectly sculpted mouth turned up into the most charming smile as he grabbed both her hands.
"Catherine." He said warmly while he rubbed her hands.