“The minute I heard your voice . . . I didn’t come for Isabel, Mary. I came for you. And her nickname doesn’t hurt me. I couldn’t care less about it—as long as you don’t think of me like that.”
Nathan narrowed his eyes. They held that intensity I’d questioned earlier, the one I’d hoped was for me, but wasn’t sure about. This time I felt sure. This time I couldn’t look away.
“I don’t think of you like that.”
Chapter 20
After dinner I stood at the edge of the ballroom again. The staff had hung a garland of greenery across the two mantels. Candles filled the room with light and warmth.
The night before, Isabel had pulled me to the piano so quickly I hadn’t taken it in. Tonight I let my eyes trail through the entire room. The walls were paneled in a pale wood up to about fifteen feet. After two feet of layered and detailed molding, they continued for another ten. This upper section was painted an extraordinary gold color, layered with a green patina. In the candlelight it looked like oxidized copper. There were furniture arrangements tucked close to the two fireplaces, and the rest of the floor space was bare. No carpets covered the beautiful interlacing wood design that spread like octagons bisected and laid across the length of the room.
Along one wall the staff had laid out a selection of petit fours, chocolates, and cheeses on one table, and wines and crystal decanters of spirits on another. Coffee and tea sat on a third.
I watched Isabel twirl Clara. She was teaching her the steps to another Regency-era line dance, and Clara hung on her every word. There was no music, but it didn’t matter. Isabel had been waiting for this moment all day.
When I had returned to our room after losing two games of bowls to Nathan and another we’d both lost to Aaron, I’d found Isabel fast asleep. I nudged her awake.
“Gertrude invited everyone to the front parlor early tonight for a welcome celebration for Nathan. Then there’s to be dancing. Official stuff, not impromptu like last night. Do you want to get up now? It’s probably time to dress.”
“Oh . . . Yes . . . Did I sleep all afternoon?” She’d stretched and sat up against the headboard, then wrapped her arms around her knees. “Gertrude promised a proper party tonight. Do you think Nathan likes dancing?”
I paraphrased the next line for her—it was too easy. “And to be fond of dancing is a certain step towards falling in love?” I studied her. “With you?” I cringed at my need for clarification or reassurance, maybe both.
Rather than give me either, she gamboled off her bed and opened her wardrobe. “What are you wearing tonight?”
From there the conversation had turned to dresses and dancing. It didn’t return to Nathan, and I didn’t press further. At some point when she remembered, we would talk. Until then, it felt like recess and I wanted to play.
Now I watched Isabel spin Clara again. She caught my eye and smiled. I smiled back, but did not move from my place against the wall. She maneuvered the little girl my direction and stretched out to whisper to me, “I was right about the blue.”
She had insisted I wear blue this evening. Standing in the bathroom, I’d shoved the dress back to her, saying, “It’s your color. You like the way it makes your eyes pop. You even have a theory that it makes your teeth look whiter. And—” I couldn’t stop myself. “Nathan knows blue is your color. I’ll look silly in it.”
She laughed and pushed the dress back into my hands. “No one can claim a whole color, Mary. That’s ridiculous. You’ll be the most glamorous woman at dinner tonight.”
“But—” I stopped there. There was no kind way to say, But you never let anyone outshine you. And I didn’t want to say it. If she was open to something new, I was too.
I plucked the skirt of my dress. It caught the light, billowed, and drifted back against my body. It had been gorgeous in the bathroom and was stunning here. The kind of dress Cinderella might wear—at the ball, not before. The small pearls and blue glass beads sewn into the bodice, circling the sleeves, and covering a full three inches of the hem shimmered like dark diamonds. Unlike Isabel’s cream dress that floated about her, mine swished. It didn’t just look beautiful. It sounded beautiful.
Nathan leaned against the wall next to me. I wondered if my dress and his coat had been commissioned for a couple—the colors paired perfectly.
“Are you playing wallflower?” He gently crashed against my shoulder. I swayed and stepped to keep my balance. “You look extraordinary tonight, by the way. You walked away earlier before I could tell you that.”
“Thank you.” I glanced over. “You’re kinda cute yourself.”
Across Nathan, my eyes landed on Helene. She sat only a few feet away and was clearly eavesdropping. She had the most implausibly innocent expression fixed upon her face. I bit my lip to keep from laughing.
Nathan noticed her too. “Mrs. Jennings.” He pushed off the wall to stand before her. He offered me a sly smile, then turned again to Helene. “Mrs. Jennings, I have news that might interest you . . . I invited a friend to join us this evening. Lieutenant Chessman is on leave and is an eligible handsome man.” He cast his focus to Isabel and Clara. “I don’t think any young lady here would be throwing herself away by consenting to a dance or two.”
“You are a delight.” Helene stood and tugged at Nathan’s arm, bringing his head a foot lower and on level with her own. She kissed his cheek then wiped away the lipstick with her gloved fingers. She looked with purpose beyond us. “I feel our Emma should lead the first with him.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Nathan directed his three slow words to me.
“With whom will you dance?” Helene thwapped him with her fan.
“Miss Morland, if she’ll have me.” He offered us a neat bow, then added, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure Lieutenant Chessman knows his duty for this evening.”
Helene patted the cushion next to her, and I joined her on the love seat. “Your young man is truly divine.”
I laughed and started to protest, then stopped. Whether he was “my young man” or not, I wanted him to be. “Thank you. I think so too.”
Helene sank against the cushions. Her face fell as if she’d remembered something exhausting or unpleasant.
“Mrs. Jennings?”
“Austen had it right.” Helene rested her head against the back of the love seat. Her fluffy white hair squished against her head. “She focused on the promising young people because they had change and life ahead of them. The rest of us? It has passed us by.” She cast her gaze out to the floor. “I feel that now. It’s a joy to watch you, but I’ve fooled myself into thinking I’m not near the end of my story. It almost makes me wonder, what am I doing here?”
“You’re celebrating your anniversary.” I squeezed Helene’s hand. Devoid of diamonds tonight, it rested in her lap. “Why don’t you and Herman switch characters to the Gardiners from Pride and Prejudice or the Crofts from Persuasion?”