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“Why would I not?” He admired it against my skin.
“I–I do not know what to say, I am so grateful.” I turned back to the mirror, “What are you doing in my room, William?” I asked, staring back at the necklace in the mirror. He laughed, massaging my shoulders.
“Why didn't you press this matter more when I first arrived?”
“I became… distracted.”
“Mmmm, yes, you were very well distracted.” He watched in the mirror as his hand clasped my breast, trailing down my stomach where he cupped the damp sex beneath my nightgown. A breathy moan escaped my lips, I threw my head back on his shoulder. “I'm leaving now. Mary will be up soon to ready you for this evening. I will be here no later than five o'clock. Good morning, my dear Rose.” He kissed my neck again, releasing me. I stumbled backward, watching in the mirror as he gracefully strode to my door and left.
He was right, of course; Mary was up no more than an hour later, bringing my mother and I breakfast. She helped bathe us in the chilly morning air and set out our dresses to be ironed or tweaked in any way. When she saw the boxes filled with the beautiful gown, she was shocked.
“What are these, Rosemary?” I looked back at her, still swooning over the necklace.
“Mr. Blackwell sent them to me yesterday, Mary.”
“I don’t seem to recall receiving these.” She pursed her lips, taking the outfit from the boxes and laying it out for inspection.
“You’ve been so busy, you must be exhausted. Clearly you could use some rest,” I said, hoping to encourage her to drop it. She murmured something about Christmas and continued to work away.
In the afternoon, Mary attempted to get us fully dressed. She began with my mother, tying her stays nice and tight, pulling her ruby red dress on and placing her black curls into a bun on the back of her head. My mother had the most beautiful dress, ruffled in all the right places, skirts in an elliptical shape which swished as they did when I was a child during the war.
Afterward, Mary and Mother worked on me. The dress required an impossibly small waist, I gripped onto the bedpost as the two of them pulled and yanked until I reached the right size. The pain was excruciating, crushing me in on myself.
We put on the hoops and then the dress itself, the weight of it all digging into my hips sharply. It was so intricate and detailed, the bow at the back helped to draw attention to the bustle-like structure. A delicate train drug on the floor, fringed with the green ruffle.
My mother pulled my rich brown hair up tight and let a few strands hang down to frame my face. With a bit of powdering and rouge, we were nearly ready and the sun had just begun to set.
Mother powdered me with pearl essence, watching me in the mirror of the vanity.
“I don’t think you have ever looked so lovely, Rosemary. Mr. Blackwell went to great extremes for this gown, it would seem.” Mother was right. I didn’t recognize the reflection staring back at me, the rosy cheeks and pink lips, the shimmering skin swathed in fine fabrics. It was almost outrageous to have this be all at his hands. My throat bobbed as her cold hands rested on my too bare shoulders. She smiled softly, something hiding behind her icy blue eyes.
By the time we were finished, we were to leave.
We made our way down the stairs to the entryway where Father waited, coat and hat on, cane in hand. Mary helped Mother with her fur lined coat while I, with shaking fingers, pulled on a red cape. Anxious energy abound, I fumbled with the tie, the ribbon slipping from my trembling hands until Mary held my fingers.
Her eyes were gentle, extracting the tie from me to tightly wind it in a knot and pull the hood over my head. With a soft peck on my forehead, she handed me the rabbit hand warmer which I eagerly slipped my hands into.
When Father opened the door, the rush of brutal wind caused us all to suck in a sharp breath before stepping out to the front steps. Father brought the sleigh around for Mother, and I could not peel my eyes from the snow glittering in the twilight.
“I will be impatiently awaiting your entrance. It will just be glorious to see the look on their faces when you arrive with Mr. Blackwell,” Mother said, patting my cheek with her gloved hand. “You look lovely, I’d full well expect some sort of meltdown from the others.”
“I hope not,” I muttered, pursing my lips. “We don’t need any more fuel for their fire.”
“That as it may, I do wonder if Mr. Blackwell will propose soon. What man goes to such lengths without a goal in mind?”
My heart stuttered at her words, at the realization of what he’d done for me. Of last night…
Mother giggled, descending the steps to climb into the sleigh. With a wave, the horses began the trek to the Quinns’ estate.
Waiting by the doorstep for William's coach, I watched the slow, hazy clouds fill in the evening sky. It looked almost painted, the strokes of deep indigo blending into bright orange. Heavenly, that was all I could make of it.
And in the quiet of it all, I suddenly remembered the night before. The images of his hand between my legs, the feeling of his mouth on my breast. The only thing that kept me rooted was the cold wind, who announced itself every few seconds.
What had that meant, what we had done last night? Did it mean he would propose, was it any indication that he would want me to be his wife?
And what did it mean if he didn’t? I knew plenty of men who bedded young women with no intention of marriage. I didn’t know if I would be the same, as if some part of me were tethered to him in some way, in a way I didn’t understand. I wouldn’t be able to lie with another man, for every touch, every kiss would always be compared to William.
Pulling me from my thoughts, the swoosh of a sleigh came over frozen snow, a pounding of hooves in rhythmic succession. A black cab with a matching horse slowly made its way up the drive. I squinted into the fading light, barely recognizing Nott. My heart took off, palms slicking inside the handwarmer with his approach. I tried to take measured breaths.
