I jumped at the sound of Mama’s voice. What had gotten into me? “No, a note was delivered from David.” I didn’t mention it was delivered by David himself. He was just on the other side of the door. If Mama knew, she would likely accost him and make him stay, and he’d already said he couldn’t. I didn’t trust him to say no to Mama. He’d proved himself much too willing to put his needs aside for others in the past week and a half.
Mama stood up quickly from her seat and held out her hand. Grateful he hadn’t written anything misleading, or provocative, this time, I handed his note to her.
Mama read it at least twice over, a smile rising on her face the second time. “His handwriting is impeccable, isn’t it?”
I nodded my agreement. It was. He wrote in a bold script, clear and unembellished, except for the capital letters at the beginning of each sentence. He’d mentioned he hadn’t had a formal education. Was penmanship something he’d learned later in life?
“And he is sending a carriage,” Mama continued. “Do you think he has planned a concert for us? Hired musicians?”
“I don’t think so, Mama. I think it will be just our family and his enjoying music together.”
Mama’s eyes widened, and her head jerked up from her third reading. “You don’t think he will ask you to play, do you?”
I grimaced. “I think there is a very good chance he will.”
“But you can’t.” Mama wrung her hands together. “I mean, you shouldn’t. Does he think you are accomplished musically? How important do you think that will be to him?”
“I’ve never divulged my lack of talent to him. But don’t worry, Mama. It will have no bearing on our engagement.”
She held David’s note to her chest and started pacing in front of the fireplace. “How can you be certain? Perhaps we should suggest something else.”
“I’m certain, Mama.” I might be humiliated in front of him and Julia, but our engagement’s end would be determined not by how much David was impressed by me but by the two of us finding a safe and sustainable position for Mama and me.
I went to the small table that acted as both writing desk and tea table. “I need to send my reply. I assume you will be joining us.”
“Of course. Perhaps if I’m there, I can save you from having to perform.”
I nodded, took out a card, and sat down. I left my nib in the ink, dabbing it up and down. What should I write? My reply for our walk had been quick and dry. I’d never had the pleasure of correspondence with a man who wasn’t related to me, and if this was going to be a regular occurrence, I wanted to get the tone correct. Mama might read my response, so I couldn’t make it too brief or businesslike. David was my fiancé after all.
I started by writing his name.
David.
That alone felt more intimate than saying it. Perhaps because I’d called him by his name when he was younger. But addressing a letter to him? It felt like one more boundary I shouldn’t cross with a man who would not always be a part of my life.
Thank you for the invitation. My mother and I gladly accept.
My pen paused over the paper. What else? I’d responded to him, let him know we were grateful, but it was much too stilted to be a note written between fiancés. I dipped the nib back into the ink and took a deep breath. We were pretending. What I wrote next wouldn’t mean anything real, and David would know that.
I will count the hours until we can see each other again.
That was good enough, wasn’t it? Probably too good. David would most likely tease me mercilessly about it after he read it. But the pen still had ink, and I found myself wanting to add just a bit more.
The time I spend with you has made me the happiest I have been in years. I will be forever grateful we found each other again.
Now that I’d started, I found I had even more I wanted to say. I didn’t think I could say such things to him in person. He would most likely laugh them off and remind me again of how much I’d helped him when he’d been a boy. But that excuse of his felt weaker by the day. What had I done for him? Allowed him to follow me around while I’d delivered baskets to tenant farmers? Sung to his dying dog? Anyone could have done those things. But what David was doing for me now? He was putting his reputation at risk, appeasing Mama, and interrupting his studies and his work to spend time with me so people would believe in our engagement.
Thank you for being there to catch me when I was certain to fall. There is no other man I’d rather entrust my safety and my happiness to than David Tate.
There were many more words I could say. But I stopped myself. This wasn’t a love letter; it was a response to an invitation. I hastily signed my name, then stood.
Mama came to my side as I walked toward the door and read my note over my shoulder. She gave me a nod and a squeeze of my elbow, but thankfully, she didn’t follow me into the foyer.
David was standing in roughly the same position I’d left him. There really wasn’t anywhere else he could go. But he’d taken off his gloves, and his hair was slightly disheveled after removing his hat.
I held out the note, praying he wouldn’t read it while I was standing there. How rude would it be if I simply handed it to him and ran back into the drawing room?
But thoughts of running fled my mind the moment his hand grasped my little card. Just as my fingers had brushed his glove earlier, his fingers now grazed mine. Only this time, nothing was between us, and the shock of his skin left me bereft of any coherent thought.
