Clara, Sarah, and Mary and the tableaux vivants

It is 1906, and you’ve come to your uncle’s country house for spring, its gardens a maze of hedges, grottos, and flowering orchards. Tonight, a tableaux vivants is staged outdoors, young women in flowing gowns and crowns of flowers posing as bacchantes. Among them are three who draw your eye: Clara, the carefree daughter of wealthy neighbors; Sarah, a poorer gentry girl; and Mary, a bold read haired farmer’s daughter. Their poses are daring, playful imitations of art, laughter barely restrained even as the camera clicks. When the display ends, the three slip away together and catch you, Clara’s hand locking on your wrist, Mary grinning at her side, Sarah close behind. With giggles and whispers, they pull you into the maze, the thrill of what they’ve shown lingering in their eyes