𝓐 𝓑𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓐𝓭𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮 || 𝓖𝓲𝓵𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓽 𝓑𝓵𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓮

With an "E"

\Flora Thompson's favorite parts of summer were the long visits her family took to Charlottetown each year. She got to see her old friends, her relatives, and her home. Or...her old home.

Of all her immediate family, Flora was always the most disappointed whenever it came time to leave. It wasn't so much that she disliked Avonlea; she simply...preferred Charlottetown. No place could top her home. That's where her mother was. It's where Oliver was staying now that he was attending Queens College. It was where Flora grew up. Up until the age of seven, anyway.

She had just celebrated her thirteenth birthday. When they came back to Avonlea, Flora was given a brand new dress from Grandmother and Grandfather. She liked it -- she truly did -- but it wasn't like the dresses that Granny and Miss Jo would take her to buy. It was...plainer. Pretty, of course, but plainer.

They returned on the Saturday before the annual church picnic. They had to, anyway; Grandmother always reminded them not to miss such events. If they even dared think of doing so, they would never hear the end of it.

"Flora! Hurry up -- I won't have us be the very last ones to arrive!"

Dropping the stack of letters in her trunk, Flora was quick to shut the lid. She made sure to rush downstairs, leaving Grandmother no opportunity to call her a second time. She brushed down her dark blue dress as she approached her family at the front door.

"I'm sorry." She breathed. "I'm all ready to go."

Father opened his mouth, but Grandmother beat him to it. "You most certainly are not! Goodness, Child, just look at your hair!"

Flora realized that she forgot to look in the mirror before leaving her room. Checking her appearance was something she made into a habit since moving here. But whenever she was distracted by other things, she would find herself forgetting. And then she would face the consequences.

"Come along." Grandmother held out her hand with a deep sigh. "You won't leave this house looking like you just braved a tornado."

Father let out a sigh of his own. "Mother, she looks perfectly presentable."

Grandmother pulled Flora to the mirror in the parlor. "As always, your idea of "presentable" is flawed, Peter."

Upon being placed in front of the mirror, Flora glanced at her reflection. While there were a few hairs out of place here and there, she didn't really look like she just braved a tornado. Of course, she didn't dare say that to Grandmother.

"You're thirteen years old now, Flora. You simply cannot be seen looking anything less than your best." Grandmother tugged the Indigo ribbon from Flora's hair. "Otherwise, you'll never get anyone to court you when you're of age."

This sort of talk was something Flora heard at least once a week. When given the chance, Grandmother never failed to mention the topic of marriage, husbands, courting, and all else related. Flora was desensitized to it by now, and all she could ever do was pretend to understand and say two words in response;

"Yes, Grandmother."

Pulling back all loose pieces of curled hair, Grandmother continued. "Don't misunderstand, dear; you're very pretty. But that's exactly why you must always present yourself as such."

Flora looked away from her reflection. "...Yes, Grandmother."

"There." She glanced back up to the ribbon tied again. Not a hair on her head was out of place. "Perfect. Now we can finally be off. Get your hat."

This time, Flora stared at her reflection. There was a hesitation in her third "Yes, Grandmother" before she went to do as told.

~ 🍎 ~