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There were the same emerald eyes and smirking mouth that I couldn’t help but look at all night. He laughed gently, helping me fully onto my feet.
“Are you alright?” Mr. Blackwell asked, his large hands cupping my elbows to hold me steady. I cleared my throat, smoothing my skirts compulsively.
“Yes, yes, thank you for catching me,” I murmured, he bowed his head.
“I thought your family was leaving for the evening?”
“We are, but I must find my friend, Miss Williams.” I suddenly remembered her, standing on my tip toes, craning my neck to find her shock of blond hair. I barely cleared his shoulder.
Mr. Blackwell turned me around, hands on the top of my arms before he pointed to the stairs where Ursula and her mother were coming down. I couldn’t help the smile, calling for her.
She gazed down, waving, mouthing she was on her way, eyes widening as she continued to stare. After a moment, she was before me in her usual pastel dress, kissing my cheek. Ursula and I had been friends since we were born, on the same day, at the same time. We often told others we were twins, but only rarely did they believe us.
“Dear Rose, I did not know you were acquainted with Mr. Blackwell.” She raised her eyebrows, no doubt sizing him up with suspicion. I peered over my shoulder to see he let his arms by his side, face tight.
“We have only just been acquainted,”
“Oh, well, you could have fooled me; but, never mind that, lovely! I will see you next week, yes?” she asked, smiling once more.
“Yes, I cannot wait to see what Mrs. Hall has in for the holiday.” Though I wasn't really excited to go, because I disliked Mrs. Hall and her taste. Ursula hugged me, bidding us goodnight as she excused herself. I spun around to Mr. Blackwell staring intently at me. His green eyes were piercing, alien in nature. I couldn’t think.
“What is the matter?” I asked, breathless.
“Oh, nothing at all. Perhaps I will see you again soon, Miss Abbott?” He took my hand, giving it a soft kiss.
“Perhaps you may; good evening, sir.” I curtsied, walking slowly and carefully toward the door where I paused for a moment, resting my hand on the threshold. I turned to see him still watching me. He smirked, placing his navy top hat on his head and I could not stop the rush of heat in my cheeks.
“Rosemary, come on! Samuel’s ready!” Mother cried from the carriage.
Chapter Two
The following days were filled with a flurry of what a girlish fancy can only bring. I was always inquiring if we could call on Mr. Blackwell or invite him to dinner, but Mother and Father refused. They did not see it fit for me to intrude on Greta’s chances of a husband. I did on several occasions explain to my mother the way Mr. Blackwell had treated Greta, but she dutifully, and rightfully I would say, ignored me.
“Why would you preferGretabe well matched over me?” I yelled one afternoon. “You wish for me to find a husband, and he is a perfectly good match, he did not even want a second dance with Greta! I would not have known he had been to the McCloudes’ several times with the disinterest he treated her!”
Mother had sat straight in her chair, her needle point resting in her lap as her cold gaze fixed on me.
“You, dear, can have any man. I have raised you to be both lovely and accomplished. Greta, bless her, is a simple girl of simple looks and simple mind, and she cannot stand to lose this match. So, for the sake of my sanity, stay out of it.”
Resigning myself, flustered and frustrated that I might lose the hope of tearing him away from Greta, I busied myself with the idea of my trip to town with Ursula. I dressed in a lovely magenta gown, hoping perhaps if I could not garner my parents’ assistance in ensnaring Mr. Blackwell, maybe I could use someone else to weave a web of jealousy and bring him to me.
“I for one, honestly will not believe it,” I told Ursula in the carriage, she laughed over my retelling of how Greta acted once I grabbed her arm at Thanksgiving, “She thinks he is truly infatuated with her! He would only dance once and in my opinion that is simply anobligation. Whilst we were enjoying dinner, did he talk to her once? No.”
“Oh, Rose!” laughed Ursula, “I do not blame the poor girl for clinging to him so. He is, after all,verywealthy andveryattractive. Well-mannered as well, compared to some of these mad bucks we have running about…” She waved her hand in the air.
“I agree. I do not think, though, she should be clinging to him so, it is rather unbecoming.”
“I think you are envious, and want to have him for yourself.” She smiled at me coyly. I glared back, blushing immediately.
“You are absurd!”
“Am I?”
“Yes! You are!”
“Rose, look at you. What have you talked about since the holiday, other than having Mr. Blackwell come to dinner, or trying to convince your mother to let you slither in between them? You cling, dear, and cling hard.”
The carriage came to a stop, the driver coming around to let us out. I huffed at her as I looped our arms and began our walk down the main street. Ursula didn’t mention Mr. Blackwell again, to my relief.
