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“I’m not sure what you mean,” I replied just as quietly as he. When Geta was dressed in her walking garb, we departed, afoot amongst the grounds of her family’s wide swath of land. In the back of the property, Mrs. McCloude had begun installing a lovely fountain and garden, ready to bloom with splendor in the spring which Greta started us toward, explaining it would not be much in the winter but we could use our imaginations to fill it all in.
She gripped my arm roughly, some few paces ahead of William mere moments after we’d cleared the house.
“What is going on, Rosemary?” she hissed, out of range for William to hear. I tugged away from her, offended. Anger burned like a poking iron in the pit of my stomach, I could have yanked her curls from her head simply for the gesture alone.
I resisted.
“I wanted to come visit, Greta. I do consider you one of my friends,” I replied, as aloof as I could manage.
“Friends?Rosemary, I am not sure you know the meaning of friendship, but intentionally ruining the opportunity one’s ‘friend’ has at a well-made match is not something afriendwould do,” she mocked me. I reared back, a laugh bubbled behind my lips which could not be contained.
I cackled, tossing my head back with the sound. Behind us, I could see William simpering.
“Why do you jest me?” Greta cried.
“I am not jesting. Oh, here comes the fountain and gardens your mother has curated! Please, do tell us about them.” I gestured toward the cobblestone circle ahead, surrounded by bare bushes and a frozen fountain in the center. The bare shrubbery had long, slender arms that outstretched and seemed to grip onto anything within reach. It was hard to think of it any other way. Greta’s bottom lip jutted out; her pace quickened as she neared the vicinity. I slowed in response, matching my pace to William’s.
“Whydoyou jest her, Miss Abbott?”
I gasped, had he heard it all?
“I genuinely do not know what you mean,” I said, nervously twirling my closed parasol in my hand.
“She was quite upset when you arrived earlier, you should know,” William noted, watching Greta stomp up the incline before turning to watch us, throwing her hands up in exasperation. William snickered. “She is feisty today.”
“Are you interested in her, Mr. Blackwell?” I asked him plainly. A sickening feeling sunk into my chest. His eyes popped in surprise and he shook his head.
“What? That is quite forward of you!”
“The McCloudes seem to think you are, you must know this. The whole damned town does, for that matter. They are pushing a match for the two of you.” We neared Greta, but William gently curled his fingers around my elbow, encouraging me with his eyes toward the other side of the hill which led downward toward a pond. A smile played on his lips, in his eyes. I raised my eyebrows.
“RUN!” he shouted, taking off down the hill, his musical laughter filling the air. Greta gasped, shouting his name. I felt excitement rising in me, and without a second thought, tossed my parasol before lifting my skirts, flying down the hill behind him. We both exclaimed in jubilation at the rush.
William turned around, full speed running backwards to watch me descend the hill. He halted at the blue green pond toward the bottom. The laughter that escaped my lips was childlike, and I threw my hands into the air, tripping on my skirts, falling and rolling the rest of the way.
I squealed in delight as the world swirled together in a circle of merriment. The patchy green of the grass, the gray and blue sky all mixed together in a kaleidoscope of colors.
William called my name in alarm as the rolling slowed and I stopped on my belly by the edge of the pond. I could not help but chortle from the experience, watching the world continue to spin around me despite being stationary. Willian was by my side in a moment, sitting in the grass next to me, giggling at what he had just witnessed. I watched him intently, our laughing and breathing slowed. He took his hat from his head, running a hand through his tousled copper hair.
Stunning.
“My, my, what a moment that was,” he said, grinning widely. My breath was lost in his splendor.
“Again!” I shouted, rolling onto my back, closer into his side. I threw my hands up above my head, taking small sips of air as my ribs crushed against the corset. He gazed down at me, gently wiping wet earth from my cheek.
“I am not interested in Greta McCloude,” he said, cocking his head to one side. My cheeks flushed under his touch and that unfamiliar warmth returned deep in my core.
“No?”
“No,” he said, as a matter of fact. “It just so happens, someone else has caught my attention.”
“And what lucky woman has done that?” I beseeched, my heart hammering in my chest as he leaned down close to my face. I could smell him, something wintery about his scent, and the electricity which flowed in the tight space between us. He leaned closer still, watching me cautiously.
His mouth was a mere breath from mine.
This was it. I closed my eyes in anticipation, opening my mouth—
“Rosemary?” Greta called. William pulled away, Greta making her way down the hill. I laid still, defeated, watching as she descended.
