Moonlight Wishes In Time (15 page)

“But, William, I find her American ‘drawl’ quite charming. Let us not try to turn her into a proper little Englishwoman too fast, eh?”

“There isn’t much chance of that, I’m afraid,” Mattie chuckled, lapsing back into the “drawl.”

She caught William’s gaze once again, delighting in the sparkle of his dark brown eyes.

“You are right, Thomas
. Miss Crockwell’s American ways are very refreshing. We must take care not to try to change them.” William’s soft voice seemed to wrap itself around her in an intimate caress.

Mattie, her face burning brightly, turned away to look across the rolling fields to the left of the path
.

“I think it is best we begin our return,” William murmured
. “No doubt Miss Crockwell will require a rest before dinner this evening.”

Mattie threw William a grateful look
. She was ready to return to her room and bolt the door for some much-needed privacy, and perhaps a little screaming into a pillow.

“Yes, of course, Miss Crockwell,” Thomas said as he turned his horse along with William
. Mattie tugged and tugged at the reins until her little mare decided she wanted to turn. Unfortunately, she soon found herself sandwiched between William and Thomas once again, and made herself a solemn promise that she wouldn’t ride with men again unless Sylvie came to help amuse them.

Thomas continued to ply her with questions while William tried to come to her aid with plausible answers
. Mattie desperately hoped that William remembered his responses, since she was not likely to.

“And I belie
ve I heard you say ‘I work with a girl,’ Miss Crockwell?” The stables were in sight and Thomas had time for one last question. “And are you using the word ‘work’ as in employment?”

“She is, Thomas,” William interceded hastily
. “She has assisted her family in their banking business on occasion in a clerical capacity. I believe that is what you told me, Miss Crockwell. Is that correct?”

“Yes, that is correct,” she murmured
. Exhausted from making up a world which didn’t exist and unable to imagine an entire night of more of the same mental gymnastics, she wondered if she could get out of the evening’s dinner party by saying she had a headache. Surely, she’d read enough books where the heroine “begged off” from something by “pleading a headache.” 

Relieved
to touch terra firma again, she gave Marmalade one last pat on the neck and wondered if she dared ask for a man’s saddle next time…if there were a next time.

Thomas dismounted
and approached her to say goodbye. He bowed and kissed the back of her gloved hand. 

“Until we meet again this evening, Miss Crockwell,” he said with a wide grin as he straightened.

“Goodbye,” Mattie murmured in bemusement as she turned away and stared at the back of her glove. So, they really kissed the backs of hands? Just like in the movies? Did William? She glanced at him. He watched her with a quizzical expression she couldn’t quite decipher.

“Shall we, Miss Crockwell
?” William held out his right arm and gave Thomas a wave with his left hand. Mattie placed her hand on his arm and followed William back to the house, waddling slightly from the horseback ride.

“You did very well, Mattie
. I think that went smoothly.”

Mattie raised her eyes to his face, inordinately pleased with the compliment.

“I worry so much about what to say. I can’t believe I made that mistake about my friend. He asked if I’d met any Indians. They’re all over the place. Who hasn’t?”

“But they are mostly wild, are they not
? Marauders, thieves and heathens?”

Mattie, who had dropped her eyes to watch her steps in the ungainly
, long skirt, looked up, startled. His expression appeared grave with no hint of a smile. He wasn’t kidding!

“Oh, no, William
! That was a long, long time ago. Well, not to you, of course,” she added with a wry smile. “Much of that history is yet to come, but you have to know that the British, Americans, French and Spanish were also extremely brutal in their treatment of Indians.” Mattie gesticulated expressively with her free hand as they walked. “Native Americans today live anywhere they want, though many live on land called reservations. They’re productive members of society, and lots and lots of people are of mixed Native American descent.” She wound down, out of breath and surprised at her vehemence on a subject she had never discussed before. But, of course, she’d never explained history to someone from the past before either.

William laid his left hand over hers for a moment before he lowered it.

“I cannot conceive of such a world,” he said in a bemused voice. “Although I am not as openly enthusiastic as Thomas, I, too, share a great curiosity for this New World.” He gave her a diffident smile. “Especially as you describe it to me.” He cleared his throat and pulled his eyes from her to look toward the house. “I cannot help but wonder, Mattie, if meeting you will not be the single most influential event of my life.”

Mattie’s hand jerked on his arm, and he reached for her hand once again but kept his eyes straight ahead
. The angles of his high cheekbones bronzed. She stared at his handsome profile and took a breath.

“Well, William
. I know that meeting
you
…and coming here to your time,” she added hastily, “will definitely be the highlight of my life.”

A muscle worked in William’s jaw, and he turned his head in her direction.

“We are agreed, then,” he murmured with a faint smile.

“Yes,” Mattie whispered
. “We are agreed.”

“You are no more nervous than any new girl just emerged from the schoolroom for her first dinner party, Mattie. You will manage. We all do. And perhaps you will enjoy yourself.” Sylvie tugged at Mattie’s hand as Mattie lay prostrate on her bed, pretending to have the world’s worst headache. “Come, our guests will be anxious to meet you. And once they do, they will be charmed.” Sylvie tugged again. “Rise, Mattie.”

“Rise and shine,” Mattie mumbled as she allowed Sylvie to pull her to a sitting position
. She slipped off the bed and wandered over to the chair to survey the bevy of garments Mary had dropped off for her to consider for the evening.

“Pick something, Sylvie,” Mattie muttered
. “What do I know about fashion? What are you wearing?” The latter question was rhetorical, of course. Sylvie would wear an empire-waist gown of a certain color and certain fabric.

Sylvie clapped.

“Wonderful! I am so pleased I shall not have to drag you from the room unchanged and present you in that riding habit,” she said with a grin. She turned to sort through the garments on the chair. “I am wearing a blue silk dress with lace trim about the sleeves and hem of the skirt. It is new, and I think the blue will match my eyes nicely.”

“I’m sure it will,” Mattie said with sincerity
. Sylvie would look beautiful in anything. At the moment, she wore an afternoon tea gown of a soft yellow, which matched her hair. And she looked beautiful, of course. Mattie sighed. She could never hope to achieve Sylvie’s natural good looks any more than she could hope to attract a man as handsome as William, who could probably have his pick of hundreds of women.

“This is perfection!” Sylvie said enthusiastically
as she held up a rose-colored silk gown trimmed with antique lacing around the high waist and neckline.

Mattie took a step back
.

“Oh, Sylvie
! I couldn’t wear that. It’s so beautiful. Everyone would stare at me.”

“Yes, of course, they will, silly!” Sylvie cried with delight
. “That is the point. You want to be looked at.”

Mattie shook her head firmly
.

“No, no, I definitely do
not
want to be looked at. People will already be staring at me, wondering where I’m from.”

“Is it not wonderful?” Sylvie smiled brightly as she held the dress up against Mattie’s form
. “Imagine all the eligible bachelors who will want to dance with you.” She pretended to sigh, and, clutching the dress in her arms, turned to search for undergarments.

Mattie felt the blood drain from her face.

“Oh, no, Sylvie, I can’t dance. Is that what a rout is?” she whispered. She stepped backward and sagged against the bed. She shook her head vehemently when Sylvie turned to stare at her. “I don’t know how to do your dances. They’re complicated—with steps and everything, right? People dipping and standing in lines and curtseying and stuff?” Mattie tried to remember every Jane Austen movie she’d ever seen.

Sylvie’s smile drooped, and she sighed as she laid the clothing back onto the chair
. She crossed the short distance between them and joined Mattie on the bed.

“Yes,
a rout is a dance, albeit smaller than a ball. The quadrilles do involve certain steps, and I cannot teach you in less than one hour,” Sylvie said with a downcast expression.

She
sighed again, as if in disappointment, but Mattie sighed with relief. No dancing for her, thank goodness, she thought! Never in her wildest fantasies did she ever imagine herself trying any of the intricate steps of Georgian-era dances.

Both young women gazed at their feet for a moment, which stuck straight out before them on the high four-poster bed
. Sylvie’s dainty feet were encased in pale, bone-colored slippers, and Mattie had disposed of her boots and stuffed her feet into her fuzzy slippers, though she still wore the blouse and skirt of the riding habit.

“How do you dance in your time?” Sylvie asked, turning toward Mattie with a curious smile.

“We just stand around with our partner and move individually for the most part,” Mattie said with a wry smile. “Or we dance slow…kind of like a slow waltz.”

“Waltzing?” Sylvie said
. “We dance the waltz and have done so for several years now!” She beamed and slipped off the bed, suddenly revitalized. “That settles it, then. You shall dance during the waltzes and plead fatigue during the quadrilles! I will inform William of our plan and enlist his aid in partnering you so that you do not have to concern yourself with a plethora of young men seeking to dance with you.”

Sylvie bustled over to the chair and snatched up the rose-colored dress and undergarments once again
. She held them out to Mattie, who sat frozen on the bed.

“And behold, I will not insist that you wear stays
, as you have expressed such an aversion to them,” Sylvie said. “I am very envious of your…freedom. Would that I could dispense with them as well. Come, Mattie. It is time to get dressed.” For a moment, Mattie saw the shadow of Mrs. Sinclair in Sylvie’s determined expression, and she gave in and jumped off the bed in response.

“Okay, okay,” Mattie muttered as she took the clothing from Sylvie
. “But I’m really, really nervous about all this. It would be much better to leave me upstairs.” Mattie couldn’t believe what she was saying, that she was willing to give up witnessing her first Georgian-era dance—something she’d dreamed about every time she read her romance novel. But at the moment, she would have given up every fantasy she’d ever had if she could just be a footman who served drinks and whom no one ever noticed.

Sylvie smiled in sympathy and patted her arm.

“I imagine you are frightened, Mattie, but you will do very well, I think, and I believe you will enjoy yourself.” She eyed Mattie askance. “Do you wish me to remain to lace you up, or shall I have one of the maids come assist? I think Mary must be with my mother.”

Mattie nodded, still chastened by the morning’s efforts to dress.
“Yes, please. I think I’m going to need help.”

“Good.” Sylvie beamed. “I shall send a maid
right away. Now, I must run to my room and complete my own toilette. I will return shortly.”

Sylvie sailed out of the room, and Mattie dropped into an empty chair, holding the rose dress carefully across her lap as she stared at it with misgiving
. The silk was exquisite, unlike any material she’d ever felt. She suspected the color would suit her coloring, but she never wore such festive colors as a rule. Roses, pinks and reds simply screamed “Look at me! I’m a girl!” and she liked to keep a less flamboyant profile.

She looked toward the door and wondered what William was doing
. Was he in his room across the hall dressing? Had he already dressed and gone down to his study to drink port or some such other manly Georgian thing? How she wished she were with him at the moment. Inexplicably, though her heart raced whenever he was near, she still felt more comfortable in his company than away from him.

William had said he would not be able to be alone with her in the future, but they had walked to the stables alone. What had he meant? That he couldn’t come to her room as he had last night? Could they take walks together? Or was that out of the question as well? Would she need a chaperone every time? How could she possibly communicate with him when she needed to? Her throat tightened, and she knew a moment’s anxiety as if she’d been told she couldn’t talk to her best friend. She gave herself a shake. William was hardly her best friend, but he was the only friend she had at the moment. Well, besides Sylvie.