White Gate Heart

•Chapter Twelve•

When I was wakened by a violent quaking in my own shoulders, I widened my eyes in panic. My stomach eased when Lydia's paled face filled my sight.

"Sorry, my dear sister," she muttered gently, releasing her close grip on my shoulders. I turned my head groggily to catch a glimpse of my surroundings. It felt like I had barely touched sleep at all. Jamie's head no longer poked above the stall door. I assumed she had retreated to the corner of her stall when Lydia entered the barn.

"What do you need?" I asked, my voice deep with the traces of sleep. Stretching, I clumsily gathered myself upwards to stand before Lydia. She seemed to be rushed and overflowing with enthusiasm as her bright eyes burst with a gleam.

"Father has asked for you and I to walk to the town. He needs some supplies for his broken study shelves, and I, new ribbon for the ball!" she blubbered excitedly. The word "ball" made my whole body perk and my lips unconsciously turned into a smile. The last time I was able to attend such a rare form as a ball was when I was fourteen.

"We're attending a ball?!" I asked giddily, watching Lydia's emotions dance upon her face. She nodded fervidly and took ahold of my hands. The details truly didn't matter to me, but I could merely assume that she had miracously persuaded Father to permit us to a ball.

"The true enjoyment we'll have is that this ball is in Boston!" she noted with widened eyes. We're traveling to Boston?! Was Father feeling fair today?

"How sensible is Father acting? What he told you could have been acts of jest," I suggested with sums of suspicion. Instead of taking account of my suspicion, Lydia shrugged it off with a shake of her head.

"He seemed quite earnest. Trust me, Rebekah. He had even begun to write a response letter to our invitation at that moment I handed him the letter. At this moment, I'm convinced he's writing a letter to allow us a lent carriage from the neighbor," she cried confidently, grinning with the brightest of smiles.

Infinite amounts of questions soon interrupted my blinding elation. Despite Lydia's outbursts of giddy dancing and twirling, I insisted on asking her the details. When was the ball? How long were we to remain in the reckless city of Boston? What acquaintances would attend? These questions rushed out of my lips and Lydia laughed at my haste.

"We're to remain in Boston for three days, and we shall be entering the brick city walls within a month." Pausing to take a breath, Lydia smirked at her upcoming thought. I looked at her with a questioning look.

"Charles will be attending, along with his military partners," she giggled, continuing to twirl me around. Her eyebrows wiggled at my flash of blush and I rolled my eyes at her actions.

Inhaling the sharp air of animals and the meadow grasses, I hooked my hand into Lydia's arm crook.

"Lydia, I doubt you'll see any sort of affection towards me from that man. I believe he thought I was childish," I told her sadly, letting my lips turn into a small frown for just a moment.

"Hush such thoughts, Rebekah! That man has his interests in you; it's assured."

Looking down at the ruffle of our swishing skirts, I felt a gentle heat arise in my cheeks. Huffing to calm my restless heartbeat, I attempted to change the subject.

"Will there be dancing?" I asked foolishly. Certainly there would be, for what is a Boston ball without dancing?

"Of course!" Lydia replied.

"Who is our host?"

"I believe that it is the governor and his wife! Can you believe such an honor? But I dare say you should cease your questioning, for we have preparations to be concerned upon!" she replied, dragging my sore arms as she sprinted to the tall house. My breath hitched in my throat and I began to pant as the distance to the house grew tiring. Sweat gathered upon my forehead and I drew an arm to wipe it away.