The Gumbo’s dance promised to be an odd affair. The meal held before the big event seemed shockingly informal and noisy to Fell, who was used to New York ways. Everyone simply sat to eat… there was no parade to the table and no assignment of seats. Still, he wasn’t a rude guest and smiled politely at the very young lady who’d slipped into the seat to his left after the soup course had ended.
She was out of breath and smelled of fresh air, as if she’d run into the dining room from the outdoors. Her display of curls might have been blown by the wind as well. She began to eat her fish with a hearty appetite.
“I’m Miss Rose,” the provincial girl told him. He waited for a last name, but she seemed to think he knew it. A talkative sort, she told him she was not even out yet and had only been invited to this grand neighborhood event because her mother and Mrs. Ethan were close.
“You’re looking forward to your debut to society?” he asked, amused.
“No, I am not interested in a season.”
“No?”
She nodded. “I have been to New York, you see, and found what I want to do there.”
She presented an odd contrast of flighty… literally, if one looked at her hair… and solemn. He appreciated her round, young body and those dark curls and large eyes, but in general he preferred someone with a little more sophistication and levity. Despite her merry appearance and chatty manner, she was sober as a nun and talked about the deserving poor, and, rather interestingly, the not… as… deserving poor. The girl apparently knew about the plight of fallen women and the unfortunate outcome of their couplings.
“You really ought not to talk about such things as those unfortunate babies,” he said gently.
“It won’t do.”
She stared at him for a moment. Annoyed by the disdain he saw on her pretty face, he said, “I tell you this for your own sake, you know.” Fell knew he sounded like a prig, so he attempted a hearty laugh.
“I wish more people had told me what would or wouldn’t do before I entered society.” A lie, of course. He’d been prepared for his role from the day he was born. Now just out of university, he had no surprises waiting for him.
“But I’ve already told you. I shan’t enter society,” she said before she turned to speak to the man on her other side. Fell, of course, conversed with the squire’s wife on his other side. After a few minutes of speaking of the weather and crops with his other neighbor, he was glad to turn back to the intriguing, peculiar girl and discuss something less commonplace.
“You are what age, sixteen?”
“Almost seventeen,” she said.
“That seems rather young to make such momentous decision. You’d withdraw from society, from life, before you even taste it.”
She wrinkled her nose, even sniffed.
“No one would complain if I accepted an offer of marriage, and that is just as momentous a step. In fact, everyone is determined I do just that.”
He decided he didn’t want to argue with her and sought for a way to change the subject. Rather than mentioning the weather, the way he ought, he asked, “Why were you late for the meal?”
The way she pressed her lips tight reminded him of a school teacher. In a low voice, she said, “I was having an argument with a gentleman. He will not accept my no to his proposal.” She glanced in the direction of a brooding man of about thirty who stared down the table in their direction. The suitor, no doubt, and older than Ethan’s friends, so Fell hadn’t met him.
“No need to look so put out by a proposal,” he said.
“Even when I’ve said no at least a half dozen times? What is worse is he’s encouraged by my family. He and my mother have decided we will suit.”
“He looks to be a respectable, pleasant sort. Why don’t you want to marry him?”
“I have something else planned for my life,” she told him with exaggerated patience.
“So you said.” The trip to New York and her determination to make a difference in the world. Quaint.
“You are a reformer.”
The girl nodded and reached for her wine. Shocking that a girl not even out would be served alcohol, but this gathering was entirely strange. At least, thanks to her, it wasn’t dull. She drank thirstily.
“I will think of something. I need to go, you understand.” Not so sober after all, he thought as he watched her gulp the wine. That must explain her strange penchant to talk about ladies of the night.
His attention was drawn by the musicians he heard tuning up in the next room.
The girl was speaking, and to his horror, he realized she’d just asked him if he’d meet her outside, in a secluded part of the garden, after dinner.
“Good God, no.” Fell didn’t raise his voice, but he pushed back into his chair with horror.
“Oh, I’m not interested in dalliance.” She carefully put down her wineglass.
“It just occurred to me that if Mr. Robin, Mr. R saw me with another man, perhaps he would understand I was not suitable.”
Fell held tight to his temper.
“I beg your pardon, I don’t know you.”
Come to think of it, he still didn’t know her last name. She hadn’t asked his, which was an ominous fact. She must know his identity. He lowered his voice.
“I am certainly not interested in any sort of trap you might set. Too ridiculous.”
