Chapter Seventeen #2
less confident. The wind is brisk, and Mr. Rile keeps splashing her with the oar.
Catherine, Christopher, Mr. Sholle, and Amalie are ahead of them in the next boat, while Rosalie floats along with Mr. Dean,
Henrietta, and Mr. Rile paddling. Henrietta and Mr. Rile have been talking quietly the whole time, leaving Rosalie alone with
Mr. Dean, who, as usual, is simply staring off into the distance, thoroughly at ease and entirely uninterested in her.
Catherine’s boat, by contrast, is a riot of laughter and chatter. Mr. Sholle looks rather pouty, but Catherine, Christopher,
and Amalie are having a wonderful time.
Meanwhile, her mother and Catherine’s mother are walking along the blooming riverbank, ten feet apart, chaperoning them from the shore.
Mother keeps moving her hands, as if trying to send Rosalie a coded message, Talk to Mr. Dean, make the most of being in his boat.
But she’s so far away, it’s hard to be entirely sure.
Were Rosalie in Catherine’s boat, she’d laugh at the absurdity of it all. But she’s not. Instead, she’s on the good ship flirty
with Henrietta and Mr. Rile.
Catherine looks back at her, eyebrow raised, and Rosalie sighs. It’s clearly her turn to make a bad impression, she just needs
to figure out how.
“It’s rather chilly,” Rosalie says loudly. She turns to Mr. Dean. “Don’t you think?”
“It’s nice and brisk,” he says.
“You can have one of my blankets, Rosalie,” Henrietta says, passing one over to her with the sweetest smile.
It’s hard to be mad when she looks so happy. But she’s really cramping Rosalie’s style. Still, she wraps the blanket over
her shoulders, protecting her arms from the misting spray of Mr. Rile’s rather erratic paddling.
“I wish there were more sun,” she tries again, forcing her voice into an unnatural whine.
Mr. Dean glances at her. “Better to protect your lovely skin.”
Uck, gross. But his attention doesn’t hold, and he turns back to the river.
She thought it would be easy to make herself annoying, but it’s perfectly nice out, save for the splashing water. And she’s
normally not one for loud complaints. Why did she think she could do this?
Rosalie looks to Catherine’s boat and finds Catherine and Christopher looking back at her, frowning while Amalie tells a story. They’re nearing the dock where they had planned to stop for a light luncheon in the nearby park. She’s running out of time to dissuade Mr. Dean.
She wishes she could talk to Catherine about this. Wishes they were in the same boat. Wishes they were simply punting along
together, with no one else, able to talk and laugh and spend time with each other.
She wishes she could clear this with her. Or Christopher. Or hell, even Amalie. Because the idea that comes to Rosalie is
completely ridiculous. Utterly atrocious. But it’s all she’s got.
With a silent apology, she turns to Henrietta. “I bet I can stay standing for longer than you can,” she says, awkwardly interrupting
a story Henrietta was telling Mr. Rile about her family’s horses.
“I’m sorry?” Henrietta says, turning to Rosalie, fully confused.
“I bet I have better balance than you do. We’ll both stand and see who can stay standing the longest. What do you say?”
Henrietta stares at her with wide eyes.
“That’s a ridiculous notion,” Mr. Dean says swiftly.
“It could be rather dangerous,” Mr. Rile adds.
Henrietta can never deny Rosalie what she wants. And usually, it’s always in Henrietta’s best interest. But today, Rosalie
needs to play on her goodwill.
Please, she thinks, hoping it comes through in her gaze.
Henrietta reluctantly nods. “All right, I guess,” she says, removing her blankets and taking Rosalie’s outstretched hand.
Together they clamber up and stand there, holding hands, rocking far more than Rosalie anticipated.
“All right, on the count of three, let go,” she says, trying to sound more confident than she feels.
This is so frivolous, and dangerous, and ridiculous.
“You need to sit down,” Mr. Dean says, his voice sharp and focused for the first time all day.
But it’s working.
Rosalie counts down. Henrietta’s grip on her hands tightens, but she dutifully lets go on three, and they start to balance. Mr. Rile has stopped rowing and they’re left to the whims of the river, drifting peacefully and
rocking with the light current.
“Stop it this instant,” Mr. Dean insists.
“Miss Raught, really, I don’t think—” Mr. Rile starts.
Henrietta teeters and quickly sits down, breathing heavily and gripping at her seat. Rosalie withholds her wince and throws
her arms up in the air, wobbling dangerously.
“I win!” she says, forcing gaiety into her voice.
“How marvelous. Now. Sit. Down,” Mr. Dean snarls.
If she looks at him, she’ll fall over. But the tone of his voice is encouraging. Maybe a minute or so more and she’ll have
entirely ruined all the admiration he has for her.
“I want to see how long I can go,” she says.
“That is—”
“What are you doing?” Amalie calls out.
Their boat comes into her limited view about twenty feet to their left. Christopher’s trying not to laugh, and Catherine looks
shocked but amused, her eyes wide, lips twitching.
“Fine. Fine, be ridiculous and thoughtless,” Mr. Dean grumbles.
Rosalie risks a glance his way and finds him staring broodily down at the water, no longer watching her. Shutting her out.
She needs to escalate. How can she escalate from here?
Her mother is shouting something from the dock, but she can’t hear that. She won’t hear that.
“I bet I can stand on one leg,” she says loudly.
“No!” Henrietta says.
“Rosalie, that’s a terrible idea,” Amalie shouts.
“You need to sit down right this—” Mr. Dean starts.
But she’s already lifted her left leg . . .
And promptly goes toppling sideways into the freezing river.
Rosalie comes up spluttering, gasping with shock and laughter. It’s painfully cold. And wet. How wonderfully ridiculous. She’s
fallen into the river. Of course she knew it was a possibility, but she didn’t think it would actually happen.
Damn, it’s cold!
She blinks up at her boat to find Mr. Dean glaring down at her. Henrietta and Mr. Rile are scrambling beside him to throw
something to her while she treads water. Her skirts are heavy, and her bonnet is making it hard to see all that much. Her
chest clenches painfully in the cold.
A thought comes to her unbidden: A man who was in love with her would be concerned. A man who was in love with her would put
aside his frustration and do something to help. A man who was in love with her would be jumping into the—
SPLASH.
Rosalie revolves in the water, leaning her head back so she can see under the rim of her bonnet. And there’s Catherine, bonnetless,
swimming toward her, glowering.
“What on earth are you doing?” Rosalie calls. Of all the absurd, silly—
“Getting you into the boat, you absolute fool,” Catherine hisses as she reaches her.
She ducks under Rosalie’s shoulder so she’s half supporting her, dragging her quickly back toward Henrietta and Mr. Rile’s
reaching hands. She’s helping Rosalie swim, even though she doesn’t need it.
Just as they reach her boat and each grab on, lightly, careful not to tip Mr. Dean, Henrietta, and Mr. Rile over, Christopher’s boat pens them in on the other side.
“Miss Linet, come over to our boat so you don’t get wet,” Mr. Dean says, beckoning Amalie to step over their heads and into
his boat, even as Henrietta gapes over at him. “Mr. Tisend, help Miss Pine and your sister into yours, so the other ladies
don’t get wet and sick.”
Rosalie glances at Catherine, who looks back, still glaring, but with a twitch to her lips. That is perhaps the least chivalrous,
rudest thing he could possibly have done.
“Get in here,” Christopher says.
Rosalie and Catherine twirl around. Rosalie helps push Catherine up and into the boat with Mr. Sholle and Christopher’s help.
And then clambers up herself, fully clumsy and not at all ladylike.
They sit there, sopping wet and freezing cold, staring at each other, eyes wide. Catherine starts laughing when Mr. Sholle
places a blanket around her shoulders, and Rosalie can’t help but follow. Christopher drapes another blanket over her shoulders
and undoes her bonnet. He pulls the blanket over her head, laughing, and Rosalie adjusts it, looking back at him with a grin.
“Back to the docks, as fast as you can,” Mr. Dean grunts to Mr. Sholle and Mr. Rile, gesturing for them to paddle quickly.
“What on earth were you thinking?” Christopher asks Rosalie as they speed toward the dock, where she can see both their mothers
waiting, furious.
“It seemed like fun. I haven’t been having enough fun lately,” she says with a shrug that just makes him laugh harder.
“That’s absurd,” Catherine says.
Rosalie looks back at her, her wet hair plastered to her cheek, the blanket wrapped up and over her head, her fingers lightly blue.
“Why did you jump in?” Rosalie asks.
“I wasn’t sure you could swim.”
Rosalie’s chest warms even as she shivers. Mr. Dean yelled at her, but Catherine—Catherine’s trembling, and could catch a
cold, and her mother’s going to kill her, but she jumped into the river anyway.
Rosalie reaches out and squeezes her hand. “Thank you,” she says.
Catherine’s glare melts into a little smile. “Couldn’t let you have all the fun,” she says softly, squeezing back before dropping
her fingers as the boats bump the docks.
Christopher and Mr. Sholle hop out to secure them.
Rosalie watches her mother and Mrs. Pine exchange a glowering look of commiseration, united in a shared anger and disappointment
as they stand there side by side, hands on their hips. But united.
A beautiful girl jumped into a river to save her, and maybe their mothers hate each other a little bit less. Despite it all,
today has been a good day.