Wilbur Green

02.

"Have you thought about whether you're going to play for the heiress on Sunday?"

Wilbur and his older brother, Edward, idled in the large, fireplace-lit parlor of the Green mansion, the walls of the lodging coated a deep chestnut iridescence with venerable furnishing to match, the atmosphere of the room coated with reticence with exception of the two relatives.

"I think I don't have much of a choice. Mother's glaringly urging me to," Wilbur answered sedately as he stood at the sienna frame decorating the perimeter of the fireplace, pondering over the row of golden trophies that sat on the mantelpiece, "she believes that Esther Tennyson is the exemplar of chivalry."

"That old hag wants nothing but money, Wilbur," Edward chastised as he sat in the brunette Belgian roll arm couch, his legs crossed civilly and his elbows propped against the back of the grand sofa, "you need to start making decisions for yourself."

"They're still in charge of me. Not everyone can be twenty-one like you, Edward," Wilbur pointed out wistfully, turning away from the mantel and tossing a quick look in his brother's direction before relocating his attention to the antique trinkets kept on the wooden console table that rested behind the sofa, one that remained across from the matching one Edward was established at. Edward Green was the oldest offspring in the Green family and the only other one aside from Wilbur, essentially leaving his younger sibling to deal with their parent's overbearing manner the moment he turned eighteen. He had no trouble going off on his lonesome, the affluent trust fund Byron signed over to him guaranteeing that he earned the large, lakeside mansion in which he lived no further than thirty or so minutes away from the rest of his direct family.

Although the oldest, Edward was not seen as the dignified son, Wilbur holding that title ever since he won his first trophy, but even so, the obvious favoritism didn't taint the brother's bond, the two of them gossiping more frequently than the town's old dames. Edward never embraced any notable talents, only dabbling in the craft of painting once or twice in his lifetime, so Byron and Annabelle saw no blunt interest in him like they did Wilbur. Sometimes, the younger envied Edward's freedom but the row of trophies and the prestige reminded him that he has no need to be desirous.

Edward has always been the more good-looking one out of the two, though; elegant cheekbones, a very thin and hallow face, cerulean-colored irises, and a mass of wavy, medium length, chocolate-colored hair. Only a few of these traits passed their way down to Wilbur, specifically Edward's facial shape and eye color, but he never saw himself as elegant-looking as Edward. He had a more boyish appearance, his features softer and budding while his naturally flaxen hair grew in dense coils.

"Mm, touché, I suppose," Edward muttered thoughtfully, watching Wilbur with attentive eyes as he mellowly inspected through the array of random decorations, "but if you want my two senses, I think you should go."

"And why's that?" Wilbur asked wearily.

"Because why not?"

Wilbur fell mute while the question fluctuated through his mind as he jumbled for a reasonable answer for it. Heiress Esther often found herself too respected to allow herself to be considerate, keeping an unapproachable and harsh semblance around her regardless of who you were. The Tennysons were a greatly loved family, Charles Tennyson, a largely admired owner of some of the greatest oil companies in the world, was cherished by many due to his countless good deeds and benevolence, thus, it came as no surprise that Esther got much pity when Charles and his wife, Catherine passed away during a seemingly casual drive back home from the horse races.

Esther, the only child Charles and Catherine managed to beget, attained all of the Tennyson property, the large estate where she resided companionless, other than the home's servants, all of the family's earnings, and whatever else Charles assigned to her in his will. She appeared to be a cold-hearted person, a person that would critique and ridicule anything that Wilbur did in her presence and none of which wired his interest in performing for her.