“I’m so sorry Miss Lowood. I hope I didn’t get you into any sort of trouble with your Uncle. I know it was rather unexpected that I dropped by like this, unannounced, especially after we just met and…” he was speaking so fast the spittle was flying at dangerous speeds. I moved over to him and placed my hand on his shoulder.
“Please, Mr. Bitwater, calm yourself. There is no reason to be in such a state. It’s quite all right.” He looked up at me with anxious eyes that slowly turned calm. I walked to the couch opposite of his and sat down.
“I just have no wish to get you in to trouble with your Uncle.” He repeated quietly.
“I understand. My Uncle may appear vexed but he was more concerned with the whereabouts of his pipe. Whenever he cannot find it he works himself into a state.” I had witnessed this several times on previous occasions. Horace nodded and seemed to relax further.
“Your hair is wet Miss Lowood.” Horace stated plainly. I reached my hand up to touch my wet bun.
“Yes, I was called from my bath. I came straight down here when Mrs. Whitby let me know someone was here for me.” Horace jerked his head back as if someone had struck him in the face, his eyes seemed to glaze over.
“You, you were in the bath?” I nodded wondering at his strange reaction. Before I knew what was happening Horace seemed to swoon slightly and a torrent of blood rushed from his nostrils. I jumped up and may have shrieked in surprise. Mrs. Whitby and Thomas rushed into the room.
“What’s happened?” Mrs. Whitby demanded. I pointed at Horace who was slightly slumped over with a pallid face and bloody nose. Thomas squinted at him and guffawed.
“What the devil? Has the daisy passed out?” Mrs. Whitby looked at her husband with a horrified expression.
“Thomas!” She corrected in a shocked tone. Thomas made his way over to Horace and hoisted him up.
“He just needs his face washed and a bit of fresh air is all. Come on Mr. Bitwater, Thomas will fix you right up.” Mrs. Whitby and I watched in astonishment as Thomas helped Horace out of the room and down the hall to the guest bathroom.
“Dear me, what ever happened to him?” Mrs. Whitby asked me. I shrugged.
“I’m not quite sure. He said something about my hair being wet and I told him I just got out of my bath. After that his nose erupted, something like a geyser!” Mrs. Whitby took the hem of her apron and covered her mouth to hide her laughter. I could hear her giggling, her eyes closing with mirth.
“Young men do have some imaginations on them don’t they Miss?” When I realized what she was saying I offered a weak smile. I am not sure if I liked what Horace may have been thinking. She wiped her eyes with her apron and put on her most serious tone with what I could tell was great effort.
“Now Miss, don’t look so. Mr. Bitwater is a gentleman and means you no disrespect I’m sure. He comes from a very nice family, and please don’t think I am just referring to his wealth. I’ve known the servants in his house since he was a small boy and he has always been a kind and shy Master to them. Never any problem with him, if you hear it from them.” I was uncomfortable with the whole subject.
“Even though he is a gentleman, he is still a man. Although, altogether inexperienced it seems.” She added and giggled once more. I really wish she would drop the matter. The last experience I had with someone thinking of me in those terms went very badly for both him and I. An image of Kurten invaded my mind’s eye and I shivered, a cold feeling lodging itself into the pit of my stomach causing an actual pain there. Mrs. Whitby must have seen the pained looked on my face because she promptly adjusted her apron and patted my shoulder.
“I’ll bring around some tea and scones Miss.” I sat back down grateful to be alone at least for a few minutes.
“I feel as though I need to apologize to you once again Miss Lowood.” Horace said as he entered the room with a sheepish look on his face some thirty minutes later.
“Please, don’t mention it. It’s forgotten. Continue with what you were saying before Mr. Bitwater.” I had hoped to briskly move the event that just transpired off to the side, but apparently this was not going to be the case.
“I don’t think I have ever been so embarrassed in my life. It’s just, you are so kind, beautiful and thoughtful, and I was very impressed how you conducted yourself at the ball you see.” He was getting overly excited again and speaking much too quickly, and that meant he was spitting again.
“Horace, please sit down. Speak calmly. I am here and will hear you out completely and wait till you are done with what you are saying, then I will respond.” Something told me that Horace Bitwater had a problem with people listening to him and that is why he felt the need to speak quickly.
“You, called me Horace.” I was instantly seized with panic that this was going to send another gusher of blood spouting from his nose.
“Did I? I do apologize Mr. Bitwater. Please continue with what you were saying.” He looked at me as if unsure and I moved my head a little looking at him in expectation for either words or blood to come out. Inwardly I breathed a sigh of relief as he resumed his thought.
“You’re so kind. As I was saying, I was very impressed with our meeting. The way you carried yourself, the way you handled all those other men wanting to dance with you. At first I thought you were just being kind to me because of my…” he stammered, “my family’s position and wealth. I quickly realized that was not true.”
“I try to be kind to everyone Mr. Bitwater. Bank account or not.”
“Oh, please call me Horace. It makes it seem as though we are old friends, doesn’t it?” He asked in a pleading manner. I smiled feeling sorry for him.
“Of course Horace. I should like to be your friend. And one day we will look back and realize that we are just that, dear friends.” He furrowed his eyebrows catching my meaning.
“Well, as to the real reason of my visit today, I was hoping to…” Horace was cut off by another loud voice approaching from the foyer.
“…Ask you to the Celestial Ball in January.” Dekker Peterson finished Horace’s question as he walked in carrying a bouquet of flowers wrapped in cellophane and ribbons. Both Horace and I looked at him in what I am sure was a shocked expression. Today he was dressed in a deep blue velvet coat with large cuffs. As with the time before he looked like a proud peacock with his shock of unkempt blond hair and green eyes. Horace seemed to shrink back in to the couch, perhaps aware of his own drab choice of attire.
“How are you Horace old boy?” Dekker smiled his trademark impish grin. He walked over to me and dropped down to one knee raising the flowers.
“Miss Lowood, I do believe I owe you an apology.” I could see Horace’s face coloring a bright red, so upset was he to be intruded upon. I didn’t know what to say and looked from Horace to Dekker. I took the flowers from Dekker. He stood back up and smirked at Horace.
“Thank you for the flowers but I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Dekker looked back at me and regained some semblance of seriousness.
“I misjudged you. I said something that may have been, on your part, construed as rude. I thought we started off on a wonderful foot last night and would like to resume our conversation. I hope that we can have a friendship, unfettered by the conventions of society.”
“Thank you for the invitation and please know that I do not harbor any ill thoughts of you.”
“Grand as gable then! I would like to reiterate my first question then and invite you to the Celestial Ball.” Horace’s sharp intake of breath reminded us of his presence.
“That was what you were going to say wasn’t it? You were about to ask Miss Lowood here to the Celestial Ball?” Dekker said looking down his nose at Horace. Horace’s glasses seemed to be fogging up and I was quite sure it was because of the steam that was emitting from his ears.
“You presumptuous fellow! I…” Horace began. Dekker laughed good naturedly and plopped down next to Horace hugging him around the shoulders in a comradely fashion.
“Now Horace, don’t get your glasses all steamed.” He plucked Horace’s glasses off of his face and wiped them off with a handkerchief that appeared from his coat pocket. He wiped the glasses clear then placed them back on Horace’s face. This seemed to anger Horace further.
“I really don’t know what I am going to do with you Horace.”
“Dekker, I‘ve had quite enough of this. State your true business with Miss Lowood or leave.” Horace said, spittle flying once more. Dekker brushed his coat arm off with a look of disgust.
“Please Horace, I’ve just had this cleaned. True business? Why, that’s it, you odd fellow. All right. If you need a recap I will be happy to oblige. I came here this morning for two reasons. One to apologize.” Dekker stood up and bowed with one arm held to his stomach and one behind his back.
“I apologize.” He then sat down.
“The second reason is to ask Miss Lowood to the Celestial Ball. Would you do me the honor of being my escort for the evening? I again find myself asking.”
“Wait just a minute Dekker. I’ve come today for that very reason.” Horace said.
“And? What did she say?” Horace glanced at me quickly knowing he had not yet asked me.
“I was just getting to asking Miss Lowood when you arrived.”
“To slow on the draw Horace. When you see opportunity you must take it. If you wait too long life passes you by.”
“Please Dekker I hardly need fatherly advice from the likes of you.”
“Likes of me? Likes of me? What the deuce does that mean?” Dekker said to Horace.
“Gentlemen please, please do not argue.” I admonished as Mrs. Whitby entered the room with tea and scones.
“Oh! Another caller have we Miss?” She said directing her question to me as she placed the tray down on the table in front of our guests.
“Yes.” I said feeling uptight.
“I’ll bring another cup.” She said and smiled slightly as she left.
“You’re right Miss Lowood, I do beg your pardon. I am forgetting myself.” Horace stated, casting an angry glance in Dekker’s direction.
“I came here today to ask if you would accompany me to the Celestial Ball.” Horace said looking defeated. I am sure that he thought I would refuse him in order to go with Dekker. I am sure there were many young women who were won over by Dekker’s roguish charm and good looks. I was not one of them.
“Don’t go away to dejected old man, beauty always wins over brains.” Dekker whispered loudly to Horace.” Fortunately, I possess both.”
“Debatable, but I will vouch for conceit.” Horace replied.
“Mr. Peterson, please.” Dekker held up his hand to me.
“It’s Dekker, only Dekker, Sweetness.” Horace grimaced at Dekker.
“In that case, please call me Horace, as you were doing before Miss Lowood.” I was growing quite tired of this nonsense.
“And I am Claren to you both, but please stop this bickering. I had not heard of this ball so I have to ask my Uncle about it first. If he decides to let me go then I wish both of you to be my escorts for the evening.” They both looked at me dumbfounded so I rephrased and repeated my statement.
“If I go at all I will go with both you.” Horace and Dekker looked from me, to each other, to me again.
“Agreed!” they both said in unison.
After my two gentlemen callers had left, I went to find my “Uncle”, as I was unsure of his mood or thoughts on my unexpected visitors. In fact, I was sure he must have known that Dekker had arrived, surely Mrs. Whitby would have informed her employer there was yet another young man in his home.
After some searching, Naza and I found Mr. Lowood in the stables speaking gently to one of his horses as he fed it a sliced apple. When he did not acknowledge my presence I coughed somewhat awkwardly. He looked over sharply to where I stood at the entrance of the stable.
“Ah Claren. Finally done with the room full of guests?” I nodded coming closer to him and his horse. I wanted to mention what he had said before we had left to the Winter Ball, about needing to enlarge the foyer to accommodate my callers. I would have said it in jest but I did not feel comfortable enough with him to do so. I found myself wishing he really was my Uncle, then at least I could feel more close to him.
“I do apologize about their unannounced visit. Mrs. Whitby informed you of Mr. Petersons arrival?” He twisted his mouth into a sort of mean sneer that I had never seen him make before.
“Yes she did, and I did not go in to greet him because I can’t say that I really care for that young man here in my home.” I was confused, just last night he had said that Peterson was not a bad fellow, now today he was telling me he did not want him in his home.
“I’m sorry, I did not know that he was going to call, ever. In fact, I received the distinct impression that he was rather disappointed in me last night at the Ball. He was the last person I expected to see.”
“Then what the deuce did he come for?” Mr. Lowood asked, pushing the rest of the apple into the horse’s mouth impatiently. The horse suddenly spit the remaining apple out, snorting loudly as he did. The partially chewed apple hit Mr. Lowood’s chest and slid down to the ground. Naza who had been watching the horse with keen interest jumped back to stay clear of the projectile, a surprised look on her face. My initial reaction was of surprise but quickly turned in to the most intense need to let the bubbles of laughter that quickly built up inside my chest escape. With great effort I managed to suppress them as I shifted my gaze off to the side of the stable trying to think of something depressing that would bring my mood down.
Mr. Lowood was too astute of an observer not to know that I was suppressing laughter. He pat the horse on its side while addressing it.
“Quite right old boy, I do take things too seriously.” He then turned towards me.
“Claren, walk with me. It’s such a pretty day today, even if I do have apple sauce on my shirt.” I took his arm that he offered and was led outside the stables. The air was a bit chilly but the sun was out and bright as we walked the lawns of Westwind.
“You may tell me what business either of those young men had with you, though I fear I already have some idea.” Mr. Lowood said as he peered off in to the distance.
“They both came for the same thing. They wanted to invite me to something called the Celestial Ball that is to take place in January. I told them that I would ask you.” He nodded, still without looking at me.
“Just as I thought. And you, do you wish to go?” I shrugged.
“It is a month away and I assume it would be a nice diversion, but I leave that up to you. I had no great hope in attending so I would not be disappointed if you wish me not to go.”
“I see. If you went, whom would you choose as your escort since they both asked you?”
“I told them if I went at all, I would have them both as my escort. The reason being is because they both bicker so much and really do not seem to be interested in me as a person.” He raised his eyebrows perplexed.
“If they were not interested in you, they would not be here Claren.”
“What I mean to say is that they have some sort of rivalry. They bicker and try to play this “one-upmanship” with one another. Mr. Bitwater’s family of course has more wealth but he lacks looks, Mr. Peterson has looks but seems to be somewhat of a rogue to me.”
“So you are already casting a critical female eye on their assets and liabilities?” I did not like what he was implying even though by the statement I just made, it seemed as though I was.
“I am not interested in either one of them in a romantic fashion. I am not interested in marrying anyone either for social status or wealth. My tastes are simple as are my needs. I was merely comparing them as they might, to each other.” I said rather forcefully, not exactly sure why. It was possibly because he made me feel naïve and unsure of myself. I never wanted to be confused with girls I went to school with at the Academy. They would make nightly lists of the eligible ba
chelors and rate them according to looks, wealth, talents and social connections. I thought this a shallow practice.
“I see. I did not realize you felt this way. Well, that is refreshing Claren. In that case I’ll leave it up to you.”
“But you had reservations I know, about Mr. Peterson and you seemed displeased that Mr. Bitwater had shown up.”
“I am not used to guests in my house Claren. I am an old recluse just knocking about in this old house. I knew things were going to change if I brought you here. I must be prepared to accept change even if it’s not exactly what I planned.” He said as we continued to stroll.
“Dekker Peterson as I said is not the bad sort, but you are right, a bit of a lone wolf that does things his own way and is very headstrong. He does seem to be a stand up fellow, more so than his father. Defies convention at every turn as I hear it, and despises his father’s friends or social endeavors even though the elder Peterson does everything for love of that boy.” The wind began to pick up and rustle the long blades of grass that we walked upon as he continued.
His Black Wings Page 14
