by Bess McBride
Why would someone as handsome and perfect as William be interested in her when he could have his pick of any woman in the county? Louisa, for instance.
The memory of William and Louisa as they danced together the night before brought a renewed lump to her throat. The smiles on their faces as they linked arms in a waltz, shining dark heads complementing each other as they twirled in unison, the perfection of their pairing, both gorgeous specimens of their gender.
Mattie brought her eyes back into focus to find Mrs. Sinclair studying her. Mattie blinked and smiled. To her surprise, Mrs. Sinclair reached over to brush a lock of hair off her forehead before rising.
“I fear you might be mistaken, Miss Crockwell,” she sighed as she paused to look down at Mattie. Mattie jumped up hastily, her forehead tingling where Mrs. Sinclair had touched her.
“I hope for both of your sakes that neither of you has designs upon the other, in light of your impending return to your own time.” She moved to the door, and Mattie wavered between following her to hear every word or standing her ground in some symbolic way. She stood still and held her breath.
Mrs. Sinclair paused again at the door and turned back, allowing Mattie to see her softer side once again as she smiled ruefully.
“Please take care in how you proceed, Miss Crockwell. I think you must be stronger than William. I do not think he can resist you. Although he comports himself with an air of seeming indifference, he is a soft-hearted romantic.”
She left the room quietly, and Mattie slumped down onto the settee, unsure of what just happened. She raised a hand to rub her forehead absently. One could say she was “warned off,” but that hardly described Mrs. Sinclair’s words or behavior. Mrs. Sinclair seemed as confused by events as she was.
I do not think he can resist you. Did she really say that? Mattie could only dream of someone like William falling in love with her. In fact, she had dreamt of such a thing, night after night.
Jane knocked quietly and stepped in.
“Master William is waiting, miss. We must comb your hair.”
Mattie allowed Jane to guide her over to the dressing table, where she stared at her wide eyes and bright red cheeks.
“Master William was not pleased to hear that madam was with you,” Jane murmured as she pulled Mattie’s hair into some sort of wonderful creation with the help of some red ribbon and a few curls allowed to float on her right shoulder.
Mattie met Jane’s grave expression in the mirror.
“I can imagine,” she murmured. “Mrs. Sinclair appears to love her son very much, and she is worried about him.”
“Yes, miss,” Jane said.
“She wants me to leave him alone, I think.”
Jane nodded sagely. “Yes, miss, I can imagine.” She repeated Mattie’s words with a faint smile. “And what is your desire?”
Mattie turned and tilted her head to look at Jane standing above her.
“Oh, Jane!” she sighed. “My desire…” Afraid she would start crying, she blinked and dropped her eyes from Jane’s searching gaze to pluck at an imaginary crease in her dress.
She raised her eyes, and rose to face Jane’s sympathetic expression.
“William,” she said simply. “My desire is William.”
****
William paced restlessly in front of the barouche with his hands clasped behind his back as he waited for Mattie and his sister. He was unaccountably eager to take Mattie to the lake, feeling much like a young boy in short pants as he anticipated her arrival.
The large wooden and brass door opened, and Sylvie and Mattie stepped out. William had eyes only for Mattie, who was a vision in a fetching straw bonnet of rose ribbons. He sprang forward to take her hand. One groomsman stood by the open door of the carriage while the other held the horses.
Mattie’s cheeks colored becomingly as he handed her up into the carriage.
“Thank you, William,” she murmured. He held her hand a moment longer than necessary, and would have continued to do so had not Sylvie brought him to his senses by clearing her throat. With reluctance, he let go of Mattie’s gloved hand and watched as she settled into a corner of the barouche. He reached for Sylvie’s hand to help her into the carriage when Mattie stood up abruptly to straighten her dress in the most unbecoming and endearing fashion before gingerly taking her seat again.
“Are you quite comfortable, Miss Crockwell?” he quizzed, unable to keep the amused smile from his face.
“My…uh…skirt was bunched.” Mattie colored. “I mean, I couldn’t move. It was pulling at my neck.” She shrugged her shoulders faintly.
“I cannot imagine how you ladies wear those garments day in and day out. You have my earnest sympathy.” William hoped he understood her words.
“Would that I had the courage to make the necessary adjustments, Mattie,” Sylvie said as she sat on the same bench as Mattie, albeit in one fluid and graceful movement. “However, I must perch myself on the bench with nary a visible concern for my comfort. Not a twitch. Not a wriggle. Not a grimace.”
William looked at his sister in surprise as he climbed into the barouche and seated himself opposite Mattie and Sylvie. He struggled to keep from staring at Mattie.
“I had no idea of your struggles, sister,” William murmured. He tapped the side of the coach to signal the coachman.
The carriage began to move with a jolt, and Mattie grabbed the calash.
“Good gravy,” she cried out. William reached to steady her but pulled back as Sylvie patted Mattie’s free hand.
“Do not worry, Mattie. You will not fall out.” She chuckled.
“Miss Crockwell, have you never been in a carriage before?” William asked. Mattie continued to cling to the retracted hood with a set face.
“No,” she shook her head. “No, never.”
“But how do you travel?” Sylvie asked.
“By car,” Mattie responded. She loosened her grip as the carriage rolled smoothly down the long drive from the house.
“Car?” Sylvie queried.
“Well, they’re a bit like carriages, I suppose,” Mattie said, “but without the horses. In fact, they used to be called horseless carriages.”
“No horses?” William exclaimed. “I cannot imagine. How do they move, your cars? How are they propelled?”
“By gasoline,” Mattie responded. “And electricity,” she added. “I’m not sure I can explain gasoline or electricity to you.” Her face brightened as she shrugged once again. “I should have done more research before I left my time, but I didn’t know I was coming here.” She looked down at the red velvet seat and ran a hand along it, appearing to grow more comfortable with the swaying motion of the carriage.
“Gasoline is a fuel, a liquid that’s derived from oil, which comes from fossil fuels deep under the earth. Electricity is an energy source, and I really cannot describe where it comes from. Water, the sun.” She pointed up. “All I know is I flip a switch, and the lights come on.”
William nodded. “We have heard of this electricity, although it is still in the experimental stages and not available to the common man.”
“Pray, what do you mean, flip a switch, Mattie?” Sylvie asked.
“A button on the wall. We have buttons on the walls called switches, and we flip them so”—Mattie demonstrated with her free hand—“and the lights come on.”
“No candles?” Sylvie asked.
“Some people use candles, but only for ambience. We don’t need them for light unless the electricity goes out.”
“How might the electricity go out?” William noticed that Mattie let go of the calash and appeared to enjoy herself now as she swayed with the coach.
“Something is interrupted in the circuitry or the lines delivering power to homes. Perhaps a storm.”
“I think I understand,” William murmured. “You seem very knowledgeable about these things, Miss Crockwell. More than is usual for a woman.” He ignored Sylvie’s look of affront. His sister already affected an e
xpression of long suffering at the scientific turn in the conversation.
The severity of Mattie’s countenance, however, alarmed him. Her cheeks were reddened, and she crossed her arms. The narrowing of her eyes was his signal that he had said something wrong.
“Well, that’s about a chauvinistic thing to say,” Mattie muttered as she glared at him. “What do you mean ‘for a woman’?”
He bent his head in apology as well as he could in the carriage.
“Perhaps I should have expressed myself better. My experience with women has been that they do not…” He would have removed his top hat and wiped the sweat from his brow if he thought it proper. “That is to say…”
Mattie’s eyes warned him to tread carefully. He turned to Sylvie for support. Sylvie watched him with something akin to a smirk.
“Sylvie. Pray, come to my aid. You yourself are not interested in matters of science or mathematics. Is that not true?”
She folded her hands in her lap demurely and stared at him with a perfectly blank expression.
“I cannot help you, William. You have offended Mattie.”
He could see he had, although he was not altogether certain her eyes did not twinkle. And was that the faintest twitch of her lips?
“Miss Crockwell, I meant no disrespect.” He attempted to bow again. “Please forgive me. It is just that women in this time—”
“Shut up, William,” Mattie murmured as she chuckled. “You really should stop talking now. You’re just digging yourself in deeper.”
Sylvie’s eyes widened, and a broad smile spread across her face.
“I beg your pardon,” William huffed as he squared his shoulders. “Shut up?” he repeated. “Am I to understand you are telling me to be silent?” He had not been thus addressed since he was a child, and never in those terms.
“Yes, William. That’s how we do it in my time.” Mattie appeared to be enjoying herself greatly at his expense. “When men start talking about what women can and cannot do…” She shook her head with a sigh. “Well, it’s just better that they don’t. I know as much as I need to about the sciences to flip a light switch in my time, and Sylvie knows as much as she needs to about the sciences in your time to perch gracefully on the seat of a swaying and jostling carriage without hanging on for dear life.”
Sylvie laughed then, and William joined her. Mattie smiled broadly, freed her grasp and raised both hands to show she had conquered her nerves.
They traveled on for another half-hour before the coachman pulled off the path and brought the carriage to a halt beneath a grove of trees at the edge of a small lake. William glanced at his favorite place in the world and turned quickly to see Mattie’s expression.
“This is beautiful,” Mattie breathed to William’s great satisfaction. “What a beautiful lake. Are those deer over there?”
William turned and spotted three does across the lake under another stand of trees.
“Yes,” he said as he handed Sylvie down. “They are. The lake is still on our estate.”
“Really? But we’ve come so far.” Mattie reached for his upturned hand, and he lifted her out of the carriage. She stepped down and into his arms. He kept Mattie’s hand in his a moment more than necessary. Over her head, he saw Sylvie busily directing the footmen in the accompanying carriage as they unloaded supplies.
“William?” Mattie said as she tugged at her hand. Soft sunshine burnished the red curls peeping from under her bonnet.
“Yes, Miss Crockwell?” he replied in a bemused tone. She really had the loveliest hair he had ever seen.
“My hand?” she murmured. William felt the tug in his hand again, and recollected himself and released her hand.
“My apologies, Miss Crockwell.” He bowed. “Once again, I am behaving like an oaf.”
“An oaf, eh?” she repeated as she smiled. Bright and even white teeth tempted him. Would that he could kiss her lovely smiling lips.
“Miss Crockwell?” he continued absentmindedly. “How is it that your teeth are so straight and white? Your smile is exquisite.”
Mattie blushed furiously and raised a gloved hand to her mouth. William cursed himself at his inelegant words. So besotted was he that he was reduced to uttering inanities.
“Years of braces, William. Years of orthodontics and lots and lots of money.” Mattie dropped her hand and smiled again self-consciously. “But at the moment, I’m grateful to my parents for giving me a good smile.”
“Braces and orthodontics. I do not know what these are, but I am sure you will teach me,” William said, his gaze still fixated on her exquisite mouth. “Your parents have indeed given you a pleasing smile.”
“Thank you, William,” Mattie murmured as she turned away to look toward the lake.
William studied her profile for a moment. What he saw pleased him immensely. Her small upturned nose charmed. He thought he might quite like to kiss the tip of it. Thick, dark lashes blinked as she gazed at the lake. He marveled at their length. Shining red curls caressed her slender white neck, and he longed to run his fingers along the soft-appearing skin.
“Can we walk around the lake?” Mattie asked, with an endearingly wistful tone in her voice. At the moment, William would have deeded her the lake as a gift if it were possible.
“Yes, of course. I would be delighted.” William snapped out of his reverie as he held out his arm for her. She looked up at him with one of her engaging, lopsided smiles, and he knew he was lost. Mattie placed her hand on his arm, and he hoped she did not notice the tremor that her touch caused. He inhaled deeply to steady himself as they strolled toward Sylvie and the servants, who were positioning tables under a tree near the lake.
“Thank you, George. That will be all,” Sylvie was telling the groomsman as they approached. “What do you think of our lake, Mattie? Is it not lovely?”
“It’s breathtaking,” Mattie breathed. She pulled her hand from William’s arm, and he felt unaccountably bereft. Short of grabbing her hand, though, he had no recourse but to let her go. She moved to the edge of the lake, and Sylvie and William followed.
“Look at all the ducks,” Mattie said. “Awwww. Look at the little ducklings. Aren’t they cute?”
“Cute?” Sylvie repeated.
Mattie turned with a beaming smile. “Cute. Adorable. Precious. Cute!”
William vowed at that moment to never allow duck to be served in Mattie’s presence. He fervently hoped Mrs. White had not provided duck for their repast.
“Yes, they are,” murmured William. “Adorable.” His eyes lingered on Mattie.
Sylvie laughed. “Oh, goodness, William. You are a changed man. Adorable indeed!” She threw him a pointed look and directed her gaze toward Mattie. William ignored his sister’s banter.
Mattie looked from one to the other. What was Sylvie insinuating, exactly?
“Sylvie teases me, I think, Miss Crockwell. Pay her no heed,” William directed, although his smile softened his words. He saw Mattie relax as she turned toward the lake again, and he threw a withering look over her head toward his sister, who smirked in response. The sound of horse’s hooves startled them, and they turned in unison.
“Hello there,” Thomas Ringwood called out as he dismounted from his large bay. George took the horse’s reins as Thomas pulled gloves from his hand and approached.
“Thomas! What is he doing here?” Sylvie asked rather ungraciously. Her heightened color betrayed her.
“I asked Thomas to join us, sister. I had hoped you would welcome him as my guest,” William said in an even tone as he directed a censorial look at his sister.
Sylvie turned and met William’s look squarely.
“You should have told me,” she said. “Pray tell me you do not aspire to surpass my mother’s matchmaking skills,” she hissed as she turned back to face Thomas. She curved her lips into a semblance of a smile.
William looked down to see Mattie’s face brightening as she looked toward Thomas. He knew a momentary jealousy and took a
step closer to her side.
“Uh oh! Looks like trouble in River City,” Mattie whispered as Thomas approached.
“River City?” William asked.
“An old expression,” Mattie said with a quick shake of her head.
“Good morning!” Thomas stopped before them and executed a brief bow. “Sylvie. William. Miss Crockwell.”
“Mattie, please,” she said.
“Good morning, Thomas,” Sylvie responded. She half turned to ostensibly gaze at the lake, although William knew her well enough to see the tension in her spine.
He sighed inwardly. When would the two cease and desist with their quarrel? Sylvie was right. He had set himself to matchmaking. Sylvie and Thomas would marry. Louisa and Stephen appeared to suit each other very well. And as for him…
He looked down at Mattie’s profile under the fetching bonnet as she greeted Thomas with her charming smile. Who knew what the future would hold for him? Would his future end in twenty-eight days, or was it just beginning? He fervently hoped it was not the first.
Chapter Eleven
“Hello, Thomas. How are you?” Mattie offered her gloved hand for a shake. To her surprise—and embarrassment—Thomas bent over it and dropped a light kiss on the back.
“Oh, I only meant to shake—” Mattie bit her lip. There was no point in trying to explain that she wasn’t fishing for a kiss. This hand-kissing thing seemed to be quite common around here, and she suspected she had better get used to it. It wouldn’t be that hard, she mused as she looked down at her hand.
“I am well, Mattie. Thank you. You look well rested after the evening’s festivities,” he said with a warm smile. He threw an inquiring look in Sylvie’s direction, but Sylvie continued to ignore him…partially. Although her face was turned toward the lake, she appeared to be listening intently to the nearby conversation.
“Welcome, Thomas. Miss Crockwell, Sylvie and I were just about to stroll around the lake. You must join us,” William said as he extended his arm for Mattie.
