The memories of Adaline (Jacob Frye x OC)

Chapter 5; Benvenuto in Italia

Benvenuto in Italia
June 1855

Orion, my black Nonius horse became a really beautiful stallion by the time he was five years old. He was very tame, and the most patient of the horses growing up on the Blackburn Estate, but only until someone approached him with parsley or carrots, those were his favourites.

Meanwhile, I became sixteen years old and we celebrated my birthday at the Lanchester House, as we do every year on the twenty-fourth of June. Aunt Martha brought me my breakfast in bed. On the silver tray there were mushroom omelette, bacon, a few slices of cheese and a bunch of fresh grapes. I got a glass of fresh water and two slices of cherry pie too. It was already ten o'clock when I left my bedroom and in the living room silk ribbon decorated gifts were waiting for me. And of course, the members of my family.

The men, my father and Uncle Archie, were having conversation in the study with a bottle of brandy, while Aunt Martha and Aunt Elizabeth were in the kitchen. Both of the women loved to bake and cook, and they often exchanged good tricks in the kitchens, whether they were in the Lanchester House or the Blackburn House. I knew about these tricks. On the one hand, because I sometimes was eavesdropping, hoping that the secret of Aunt Elizabeth's delicious apple pie would be revealed. And on the other hand, because every time we visited the Blackburn Estate and then we returned home to London, Aunt Martha always baked new delicacies. Not so long ago her blackberry cake became even more delicious after she flavoured it with the juice of a ripe lemon. My cousin, Clarissa entertained herself with a novel by a Spanish author. She was at the beginning of the story and the pages were quite yellowed and wavy, so I didn't even have to ask if she had taken the book from the library of the Lanchester House. I knew the answer, because, by accident, I spilled tea on its pages a few months ago. We discussed everything she had read in the first forty-four pages of the book, then we joined the women. Clarissa was decorating the lemon cake with fresh mint leaves, while I made myself useful and almost indispensable by licking out the whipped cream left in the bowl, so that it wouldn't go to waste.

"Happy birthday, Adaline!" my family said at noon, when we toasted. My father opened an 1839 Tuscan wine, and allowed me to have a few sips. Clarissa drank as much as I did, because although she was almost two years older than me, she wasn't a fan of alcohol. And as for the Chianti wine from Italia, my father told me that today is a special day, even though I was two whole years away from being officially an adult.

The dining table was full of food, it was hard to decide what to put on my plate, but in the end I choose roasted lamb with rosemary and fried potatoes. Then I ate some steamed butter beans and tomatoes, but just enough to leave room for at least two types of cakes.

The afternoon was great. In the first few minutes of the afternoon, finally I opened the boxes decorated with silk ribbons. Among my gifts there were an oil painting of irises and a pair of new riding boots as well. Later we continued the Sunday in the lounge. We had not only interesting topics of conversation, but also various board games. As it turned out very soon, Clarissa was already at least as good chess player as our fathers, while it could not remain a secret that Aunt Martha was unbeatable at checkers and that she owed her knowledge to her beloved husband.

Later, we took a pleasant walk in Saint James' Park, not paying attention to the grey clouds. To our delight, there was no rain, only the refreshing cool breeze with the scent of plum trees. As the sun was setting down, the time has come for the cake. Aunt Elizabeth made a white chocolate coffee cake, based on a family recipe, and the celebration ended with its heavenly taste.

There were still three and a half hours left of my birthday, and I was spending those hours in the yard of the Lanchester House. My dear Uncle Archie surprised me with a handheld telescope and luckily I didn't have to wait until tomorrow, because the grey clouds had left London by then. The size of the fragile device was a third of the one my uncle owned, so it could fit in a suitcase, or even in a handbag. Besides, it came with a beautiful map of the stars, which was under the telescope in a decorative box carved from alder wood. It was summer, so that night I enjoyed the constellations of the Swan, the Eagle and the Lyra. I was admiring the moon, when the chirping of the crickets was accompanied by the sound of footsteps. There were a few moments when I could sense his every little movement. Even that he raised one of his hands very close to his mouth, while he was swinging the other hand back and forth by his side, then he turned his head to the side, when a horse-drawn carriage passed on the street in front of our house. It was a strange feeling. And it was not the first time that I have experienced something similar in the past few years. However, maybe just my intuitions have developed, while I have become more and more mature.