72. Sarah
Sarah
George almost kissed me. I think George almost kissed me.
Maybe I was delusional. I had been known to embrace a fantasy world.
I paced my room, unable to find stillness.
My thoughts jumped as restless as my body, but they always returned to him.
The shape of his mouth. The smell of his soap.
The feel of his hand on my back, his breath on my ear, his thumb on my lips.
Oh, Pemberley—his thumb on my lips. I brought my fingertips to my mouth. It was madness.
It had been two days since the ball, and I hadn’t seen George. Not that I’d been watching for that wolf. Loafing by the window like a lovesick cat.
Had I wanted him to kiss me, there on the dark veranda? Did I want him to kiss me now? All the talk of bewitching and blushing and scandals and souls had confused us.
He had stopped, which was good.
But he almost kissed me. And I wasn’t entirely convinced I had wanted him to stop.
Viola would be home soon, and her news from Minnesota would distract me. Everything would return to normal. How could it not? We were friends. I hoped we were still friends. My stomach dropped. Was that why he had been avoiding me? Could he not be my friend after…
I grabbed my book and headed downstairs. The day was too overcast and miserable for a walk, but I needed something. Maybe tea in the parlor. And cookies. Lots of cookies. The golden tassel of my bookmark swung back and forth as I headed downstairs.
Mother had gone out visiting, so the house was quiet.
When I entered the parlor, Father put down his book and offered to play chess. He beat me soundly.
He reset the board. “You seem out of sorts.”
“Strange times for me, Father.” I sighed and slumped in my chair. “Viola will move away soon. She has been next door for as long as I can remember.”
And George almost kissed me, and now he had tragically fallen off the face of the earth.
“And I miss Mrs. Newman. I used to go for tea two or three times a week.” Dear Mrs. Newman would know what to do. She would know what this means. He probably didn’t want to kiss me. Wouldn’t think about my lips. Or my soap. Wouldn’t name my smiles…
I said, “Everything is changing.”
Father nodded and laced his hands together on his lap. “Change is not always a bad thing.”
“But it is always different.”
Father smiled. “True. The sudden changes get the most attention. But we wake up a slightly different person every morning than we were the day before. The little changes, day after day after day, lead to the biggest surprises when we finally take notice.”
What hadn’t I noticed?
If only that scandalous man would stop distracting me. Then I could pay attention.
Outside the window, the sky suggested the day’s end, though the clock on the mantel showed quarter past four. The last migrating birds flew in sturdy formation buffeted by the wind off the lake. The parlor door opened.
George.
I jolted upright in my chair. My heart beat heavy as a kettle drum, echoing through me. Could he hear it? Act natural. But all the cookies in the world couldn’t help me now.
He warmly greeted Father. Then turned to me. Hesitantly met my gaze.
He almost kissed me.
“I would beg a moment of your time.” His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his coat. “I have news.”
We shuffled awkwardly to the two chairs near the fire. How had we managed the dance floor without tumbling?
Father opened his book.
“I presented my project to my father and the managing editor today.”
I searched his face for a hint. “And?”
George’s face bloomed into a grin. “He approved. I think he might even have been proud.”
“Of course, he was proud, George. It’s a great idea. I’m proud of you, too.” A friendly sort of pride.
“Thank you for believing in me. For helping me. Your idea was exactly what it needed. Took it from good to great.”
“Yes, I am beyond clever.” I relaxed into our familiar friendship.
He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair and bobbed his head. And kept bobbing it. Was he all right? He had almost kissed me—so probably not.
“They’re ready for us to return for the sample dinner with wine pairings at the Palmer House.” He motioned me closer and dropped his voice so that only I would hear. “They said we could do a meal for four.”
“Why are we whispering?”
“What would you think about inviting your parents to go with us?”
“What?” I blurted. “Why?”
Was he courting me? Impossible. He said he’d never marry. And I was—me. Must have been some other reason. He’d almost kissed me… But probably half the city could say the same.
George grinned, not quite impish. “I have a theory.”
“Sounds scientific.” Must have been a logical reason.
“Prepare to soften your cynical heart when you see how your parents behave outside these walls. Might even discover some Jane Austen here in your own home.”
Why would he want my parents along? Mother would ruin the dinner with her constant prattling, and Father would be quiet and withdrawn.
“It’s your choice, George. I won’t stand in the way.” My answer seemed to satisfy him.
“Sarah, I?—”
Mother bustled in with Mipsy tucked under her arm. “Such a stir, my dear. Talk of the town. Yes…” She eyed George and me at the other end of the room. “And here they are, Mipsy, much discussed in parlors all across town.”
“What are you going on about, Mother?”
“Let me see, I folded it up.” She shuffled through her bag and pulled out a folded page. “From this morning’s society pages.”
Oh no no no.
She slid her finger down the page. “Yes, here it is.” She read aloud.
“The Christies’ ball was a smashing success, and I have it on good authority that we should expect an announcement soon from Napoleon and his lady love, Josephine, which should surprise no one after their clear affection at the ball.
The biggest surprise of the evening was how the big bad wolf was tamed by none other than Goldilocks.
This particular wolf has been on the prowl for many seasons, a sought-after ‘Star’ Princeling.
The lady’s identity is much debated, but I, for one, hope this fairy tale has a happy ending, not too hot and not too cold.
Happily, there was nothing cold between them. ”
Mother placed the page on the table. “So many invitations to tea this week, Mipsy, all because of our Sarah. They are all dying to find out if she was Goldilocks. Such interest. A splendid showing. Of course, I did not directly confirm or deny their suspicions, my darling, best to be coy, yes, prolong the speculation.”
I winced. Oh, why would the floor not open a hole and send me down to the depths? Preferably somewhere without newspapers. Or wolves. Well, maybe wolves.
George croaked out a strangled sound, and then I heard the low rumble of his chuckle. Of course, he would find this amusing. What a lark to think there was something between us.
I dropped my chin and glanced up at him from under my eyelashes. And then my laugh burst up to join his. We were laughing together. We’re a good team even if he almost kissed me.
He was a sight. Hair wild. Lips twisted to the side. Eyebrows high. But that was not what made me laugh out loud. I laughed because he crossed the first two fingers of his right hand and tapped them to his temple.
Damnation indeed.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that I would not have stopped him.