Catching the Rose

by Belinda Kroll

  “Time n’ time again, Bentley, I tell you it was all Daddy’s doin’.” She was surprised to find Jonathan staring at her. His air was definitely philosophical, and for a moment, Veronica was afraid he would demand an apology.

  “What an interestin’ opinion,” Jonathan mused. “I assume you decided this on your own? —so, if you were to make things different, how would you have courtin’ done?”

  Veronica frowned. Here she was, in the middle of a party, talking with the most handsome man in the house about the courting system. “She must be able to choose her fiancé, or else the marriage will fail.” Her head felt light, and she struggled to stand firm. This was such an inappropriate topic. “It is improper, I know, to tell my opinions so…freely, but you asked, and as a woman I can hardly refuse.”

  Bentley glanced at Jonathan before summoning the courage to ask, “You haven’t been married already, have you, Ronnie—Veronica—Miss Vernon?”

  About to speak, she was silenced as Jonathan snapped, “She is talkin’ about her parents, you idiot.”

  Veronica wondered how Jonathan could possibly have known she referred to them. And besides…this was becoming entirely too personal for proper ballroom conversation. “I’m bored,” she suddenly said, turning away, “and I believe Mrs. Beaumont is callin’ everyone to dinner.”

  “Well, I suppose we can leave it at this for now,” Bentley began, hoping his tone portrayed he would bring it up with Veronica later, when alone.

  Jonathan grinned. “That’s very genial of you, old boy. Always think of the ladies, I say.”

  “I believe everyone is leavin’ for dinner.” Veronica motioned at the doors.

  Jonathan stepped forward with his arm out for hers. “May I escort you, Miss Vernon?”

  Those eyes of his were placed firmly on her frame, and she felt as though Jonathan could see through her coy manners and southern charm to her true, impulsive self. It was rather unnerving. “You may, but only if you continue to call me Jinx,” she said, and was pleased when Jonathan laughed in agreement, tucking her hand in his arm.

  “What about me, Ronnie?” Bentley winced, wishing he did not sound so petulant.

  “I thought she told you not to call her that anymore, Stratford,” Jonathan said, his voice heavy. He turned to Veronica, capturing her gaze. “Am I not right?”

  She nodded, catching her breath. He thought well of her, she knew—she hoped.

  Jonathan grazed over Veronica’s hair, casually wondering how she had acquired such a golden sheen. “Aren’t you comin’, Stratford?” he demanded, leading Veronica to the dining room, where a buffet had been set up by Maum Jo and Nan.

  Veronica smiled across the room to Amy and Madge, already seated and eating, looking away before she could see Amy’ brow arch in response to seeing her escort.

  Madge glowered, displeased with his unnatural interest in Veronica. “Why does he spend his time with her, Amy?”

  “Calm yourself, Madge.”

  Madge stomped her foot in silent rebellion.

  “You don’t want to attract too much attention to yourself, me, and especially to him. Now, eat your food.” Suspecting Madge would retort, Amy snapped, “Eat.”

  Veronica was doubly astonished when Jonathan gave her as much food as himself. “How is it you know my favorite foods, Lieutenant?” she murmured, dazedly accepting her plate.

  “That’s for me to know.” He smiled, leading her to a small table. He left for wine, returning to find her much altered from her previously smiling composure. “What’s wrong?” he asked, following her gaze to Bentley.

  “He’s making motions…I think he wants me to go over, but I don’t want to.”

  Jonathan shrugged. “Then don’t. He can’t make you do anythin’ with me here.”

  Veronica’s brow arched in amusement. “Will you be my knight in shinin’ armor?” He glanced at her in surprise; a surprise she hoped was welcome. “I should like nothin’ more than to have you protect me from such advances—”

  “Jinx, stop it. You know I don’t like it when you act like that.” Pausing as her face darkened with displeasure, he placed his hand above hers, tightening his grip when she tried to pull away. “I don’t mean to insult you; I just want you to be natural. I hate flirtatious women—I feel as though they are wrappin’ me about their fingers.”

  Veronica shrugged, thrusting her fork into the beef. She ate quickly, urging Jonathan to follow suit. Blushing when he caught Bentley staring, she was relieved to see he willingly obliged, leading her to the library when the meal ended. She stiffly stood beside him as they nodded to a passing couple, feeling Bentley’s jealous eyes nearby.

  Startled when he pulled her hand, Veronica was all incredulity when Jonathan pulled out a copy of Much Ado About Nothing from his jacket. She shook her head and followed him to the sofa, where they sat. Only he would carry a book with him to a party, she thought with a smile.

  Anticipating that he recite from the beginning, Veronica was surprised to hear him choose the section most dear to her heart, in which Benedick, through eavesdropping, is deceived into believing Beatrice loves him. She watched Jonathan through veiled eyes, leaning close to read what he spoke. Suddenly thinking perhaps he would think her a flirt, Veronica inched away, not understanding his frown.

  Jonathan tore his gaze from her, struggling to pretend as though the paper was more interesting than she. He hoped she would understand his meaning, by choosing this passage. He affected Benedick’s surprised English accent, smiling in response to her delighted laugh.

  “This can be no trick; the conference was sadly borne. […] Love me! Why, it must be requited. […] I did never think to marry. I must not seem proud: happy are they that hear their detractions and can put them to mending.”

  He glanced at Veronica, who smiled, motioning she understood his rebuke.

  “They say the lady is fair; ‘t is a truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous; ‘t is so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me; by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage; but doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. […] When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married. Here comes Beatrice. By this day! She’s a fair lady. I do spy some marks of love in her.” (Much Ado About Nothing, Act II, scene III).

  Veronica hesitated, suddenly realizing he wanted her to play Beatrice’s role. Gasping as someone sat beside her, she turned to find with great consternation that Bentley was inches away. She turned only to find she had nowhere to go.

  “Did you enjoy your meal, Veronica?” Bentley murmured. He felt encouraged by her hesitant nod. “I understand you stayed with a northern family these past months, to view the battle at Manassas.”

  Veronica sighed. Bentley just couldn’t leave well alone…he never could. “It's true; is there somethin’ you don’t like of the tale?”

  Bentley frowned. She was going to recruit Jonathan if he wasn’t careful. “The fiancé of a southern man should not be traipsin’ around Yankee territories, especially durin’ a war. It is uncalled for and improper.”

  “I am not your fiancé,” she whispered, “I have not been for two years, now.”

  “You will always be mine, Ronnie,” Bentley whispered, “because you have been promised to me. I will not acquiesce to this man because he is your favorite now, or because he suits you more than I ever could. You will learn to love me in time.”

  “And do you love me, Bentley? Never once have I heard you say you love me.”

  “What a question!” he scoffed.

  “Answer or leave me be.”

  “You love me only for my money, don’t you?”

  “I could ask the same of you. You’re marryin’ me for my money, Mr. Stratford—you want me for my riches and nothin’ more.
You hesitate, Mr. Stratford…you are upset I have found you out! I politely ask you to leave. I am in the process of enjoyin’ the attentions of the Lieutenant here,” she looked at Jonathan and shared a smile before continuing, “and I wish to enjoy them in peace. Please, leave.”

  Bentley kissed her hand before leaving, and did not see that Veronica wiped her hand against her skirts in relief.

  Jonathan placed his book inside his jacket. “Did he greatly upset you?”

  “He was makin’ unseemly comments,” she said, clenching her hands.

  “What was he sayin’? Should I call him to a duel?”

  “There is no need of that, I assure you,” she replied, sipping her wine, inspecting the room through the bottom of her tumbler.

  “What was he sayin’?” he persisted.

  Veronica felt almost forced to divulge Bentley’s comments. A woman walked by, murmuring to her companion that she had never beheld a couple so much in love. Veronica stiffened. She was forever matched with men she hardly knew—for once, she wished to enjoy the pleasure of the public assuming she loved someone she intimately knew.

  Veronica shook her head, handing her tumbler to Nan with an appreciative smile, which Jonathan noted. She frowned when he stole her hand, declaring he would not release it until she disclosed everything. “It isn’t seemly for me to repeat,” she murmured. That she and Jonathan could speak to each other just above a murmur, while everyone around them spoke loudly, was oddly comforting.

  “Well, I suppose I won’t challenge him unless you want me to.”

  Veronica smiled, knowing Bentley scrutinized them from his corner perch.

  “Would you like to go to the ballroom?” Jonathan murmured, as she watched Bentley storm from the room. Veronica slowly nodded, wondering why, during such an intimate moment with Jonathan, her thoughts flew to Brad.

  * * * * *

  Bentley secured Veronica for many of the remaining dances, whether she happened to be dancing or not. Annoyed with his attentions, she found her gaze often strayed to Jonathan. She longed to know what witty things he said to make Amy and Madge giggle with delight. It wasn’t fair! Nothing was ever fair. She never attained the attention from the men she wanted it from.

  “Ronnie, you are not payin’ attention to me as you should.”

  Veronica flinched at his closeness, struggling to contain her contempt. This party had gone too long. “If you could please pardon me,” she murmured, pushing past Bentley into the crowd. Weaving between couples, she was horrified by girls whispering over the handsome stranger she had dubbed Jonathan. Cheeks burning, she averted her gaze when passing the stranger himself. How dare they, the wenches, assume they were engaged?

  “Ronnie!” Amy cried out as her friend rushed past. She grabbed Veronica’s arm and pulled her to Jonathan. “Ronnie, come dance with our friend. Surely, you cannot deny his hand? We—Madge and I—have already danced with him three times each. And as he will not dance with any other person whom he does not know, I insist you dance with him!”

  Veronica blanched. It wasn’t fair to either of them to be forced into this situation. “Amy, I didn’t come here for a partner. I hope that’s not what you think I did—because I didn’t.”

  “You’re blushing, Veronica.”

  “Thank you, Madge. Forgive me, but I feel I would not be an able partner after so long an evenin’,” Veronica apologized, stiffly curtseying to Jonathan.

  “Of course,” Jonathan answered, fluidly bowing. Veronica blinked in surprise—was this the same man who so awkwardly bowed before? As she turned to leave, he touched her bare arm, knowing this would stop her. “Perhaps one short dance will put you back into spirits. I believe you owe me this, for I did help you through a most tryin’ moment before.”

  Veronica was angry for allowing herself to turn. “Quite right, Lieutenant.” There was something in the entire situation that did not please her fancy. She allowed herself to be gathered in Jonathan’s arms, murmuring answers to his many witticisms that should have made her smile. It was not until the end that Veronica realized she was again on the veranda.

  “What is wrong, Miss Jinx?”

  “Why do you feel that you must save me from myself?” Veronica demanded, jerking away feeling both ashamed and embarrassed at being found out.

  “I am not understandin’ your meanin’. I am a friend, sent by Rhett.”

  “What?”

  “Rhett. He said you were lookin’ for me.”

  “Is Jonathan your real name?” Veronica asked, thinking this all quite insane.

  “I suppose I look like a Jonathan, for I am always called that.”

  “This is no time to be crackin’ jokes.”

  “You know, you are pretty when you are mad. It suits you better than the listless belle.”

  Such a candid statement, said without Jonathan’s dubious accent, sounded eerily like Brad. The thought made Veronica blush as she burst, “You are changin’ the subject.”

  “No, I am not. And you are cold.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are, don’t deny it,” he warned, placing his jacket about her shoulders. “Why do you feel you need to prove yourself to everyone?” he said, startling her by the comment. It seemed as though Veronica almost felt forced to reply as she said, “That, I assure you, is not true.”

  With a frown, Veronica suddenly wondered if she did have to prove herself to everyone, shuddering as a breeze blew past. She blushed as Jonathan noted her involuntary action and rubbed her arms, hating how the warmth of his hands made her drowsy enough to muse, “I suppose I should thank you.”

  “You sound tired.”

  Veronica attempted to yawn delicately. “I have not slept well.”

  “You’re tired, out of sorts, and cross.” Jonathan patted her shoulder, removing his jacket with a smile. “We don’t want people thinkin’ the wrong thing, do we? It must be suspicious that we leave the ballroom so frequently together,” he said, leading Veronica to the main stair.

  “You’ll be callin’ tomorrow, then?”

  He leaned against the railing. “Most likely not. But I’ll see you soon.”

  Veronica’s smile was too large to conceal.

  “If…by chance a card were left tomorrow with ‘Jinx’ written on it?”

  “I would assume it came from you.”

  “Smart girl. Then I hope to see you as charmin’ as you are now, for if I don’t, I will be quite put out.”

  Veronica watched with a forced calm as he disappeared into the gradually thinning crowd. Climbing the stairs to reach her room, she napped, waking half an hour later to pull off her shoes. “What a dear,” she murmured, reaching for her journal.

  * * * * *

  July, 1861

  As the last guests departed from the boarding house, Mrs. Beaumont turned to Maum Jo and Amy, the two present and awake persons to talk to and said, “Well, was that not a wonderful party? I think I shall hear about it for weeks to come, do not you think so, Amy, dear? Mrs. Johnson, I see, was quite put down by her friends, for she had promised them that she and she alone would house Ronnie while she was in Richmond…what a joke that her subordinates found her out! —Maum Jo, you have been a dear tonight: there was not one complaint about the service. Well. I must admit that I am tired. Madge, I see, is already asleep. Look at the poor dear lounge there on the bench as though it was the best comfort she hoped for tonight! I would talk to Ronnie about her mysterious suitor…they were all the buzz, you know, but I am so tired I can hardly talk anymore. Do ask Ronnie all about him if she happens to come down, Amy?”

  Amy dazedly nodded, determined not to hold her head, though it ached so from Mrs. Beaumont’s constant chatter. Turning to Madge so as to dissuade Mrs. Beaumont from speaking further, she sighed as soon as Mrs. Beaumont’s bedroom door shut.

  Madge had fared rather well for her first party, Amy reasoned, watching her cousin fitfully sleep. About to gently shake her cousin awake, she heard a noise from above and gl
anced to see Veronica padding barefoot down the stairs. Smiling, Amy grabbed Madge’s shoulder and jerked her forward, hissing, “Awaken! Ronnie has come to speak of her friend, I’m sure. You were so curios before that I would not have you sleep through this.”

  Madge was more annoyed with Amy’s reaction to the couple than with the stranger’s reaction to Veronica. Amy acted as though the two were about to be married; and furthermore, she seemed glad of it! “Why did you not wear your mask, Veronica?” she yawned, addressing her first concern.

  “And ruin my fine eyes?” Veronica protested, patting her tiara with abundant affection.

  Madge eyed the rose the Lieutenant had given her for Veronica, and resentfully thought, how typical that Veronica found a way to yet again be the center of attention by simply leaving her mask off.

  “Cousin, what troubles you?” Amy asked, suspicious of Madge’s brooding tone.

  “Nothing. I am sure Veronica had a delightful time with that horrid soldier. I am not surprised she managed to catch his notice.”

  “What are you talkin’ about, Madge?” Amy frowned.

  “I am merely educating Veronica that her chosen seems more taken with another, is all.”

  “Who?” they cried, their suspicions rising as Madge turned, gently stroking the rose.

  The rose oddly reminded Veronica of the one Brad had given her, and as she stepped forward, she was certain it came from the same bush. “Who gave you that flower, Madge?” she asked, involuntarily reaching for it.

  “It is mine.”

  Amy caught a laugh and waved Madge’s comment away, scoffing, “That rose isn’t yours, Cousin. I demand you give it to its rightful owner.”

  “She does not deserve such luck. Why I should pretend to be taken away with her, as you and my brother wish me to?” Madge protested, holding the rose close as though it were a small child.