Scones and Sensibility

by Lindsay Eland

  “Really? Did you see Lucy again today?”

  My excitement could not be restrained, and I ran to clasp her hands as she sat on the bed. “Indeed I have. And that very same lady accepts your father’s invitation to afternoon tea on the morrow!”

  “Really?” Her face was distorted with complexity. Though her mouth was turned up in the elegant smile that I had come to adore, she turned her eyes to the bedspread, pulling delicately at a stray string. Her nervousness over her father’s meeting with Miss Penny was understandable. I sought to reduce her fears to nothing but coals.

  “Upon my word, Fran, do not fret over your father and his betrothed. Is that what troubles you, dear friend?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Fran said, breaking the string off in its entirety. “It’s just …”

  “Just what, dear Fran? I am your bosom friend, to whom you can spill the depths of your heart and I will not speak it, even unto death.”

  She smiled. “I know, Polly. It’s just that … this is all kind of hard for me.”

  “Hard for you? But Fran, how?”

  Her face flushed and she stood, pacing the floor. “How? Well, my mom left us, Polly, remember? And I’ve had to spend the last three years watching your parents hug and kiss while I’ve been stuck eating chicken cordon bleu and wishing that maybe someday my dad would love someone—”

  “And that time is now, Fran!” I declared. “For tomorrow, your father and Lucy will be united in love’s eternal bond! There is no more need to be disheartened.”

  Fran sighed. “Forget it.”

  “Forget what, Fran?”

  “Nothing.” She paused and pulled something from her pocket. It was a picture of a very beautiful woman. “That’s her. That’s Ruthie Carmichael.”

  “Really?” I arched my shapely eyebrow and studied the photograph. She was endowed with a face shaped like a heart, large green eyes, and coal-black hair. “She resembles an animal from the feline race, I’m afraid.” Fran’s face fell downcast at once. “But still,” I continued, “though the lady, if that is what she may be, is not equal in beauty to Miss Lucy Penny, her eyes are sufficient enough and her smile appears to be honest.”

  “Yeah, and she seems really nice, too, Polly.”

  I handed her back the picture. “Yes, you mentioned that just yesterday.”

  “I actually really like her. She makes my dad happy and, I don’t know, I just like her.”

  I fiddled with my dress, disbelief over these words silencing me. “But really, you can’t mean it, Fran. You like her more than Lucy? I mean, you hardly know this Ruthie at all!”

  “Well, I don’t know Lucy either. I’ve only seen her.”

  “This is true. But not only have I, your bosom friend, recommended her to you, but you will meet her tomorrow, Fran. Unless of course you want me to cancel the meeting.”

  Fran shrugged her shoulders. “I thought about that, but I guess it’s too late now.”

  “Indeed. It would not be ladylike or gentlemanly to cancel the arrangement when she is so looking forward to it. And I do not think it wise to sever all connections to Miss Penny. The arrangement for the morrow should be kept, and though I see clearly that you are fond of this Ruthie Carmichael, I think you and your father will find Miss Lucy Penny of much more elegance and kindheartedness.”

  “All right. But you know, Ruthie’s coming in just a few days. I guess my dad wanted her to come as soon as she could,” Fran said.

  “Heavens,” I declared, wiping my brow with my handkerchief. “How time steals away when in the midst of bringing lovers together. Believe me, Fran,” I said, grasping her hand, “though I adore my task, I do not wish its trial upon you. But do not fret! I am fully convinced in both my heart and my soul that Miss Penny and your dearest father are a match the very angels in heaven ordained before time began.” I glanced at my pocket watch and arose. “But no more of this. I have it all under control. Until then, dear Fran, would you care to accompany me to the beach, where we shall see Mr. Nightquist and Miss Wiskerton unite together in love’s perfect harmonic accord?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, sure.”

  We departed thence, and arrived at the beach to find dear Mr. Nightquist silhouetted against the setting sun, attempting to tame an unruly kite. A blanket lay on the sand behind him, surely meant for he and Miss Wiskerton to dine upon.

  My heart leapt in my chest.

  “He has come, as I knew he would. Such a faithful man the world has never seen,” I declared from our cozy spot beneath the creaking planks of the boardwalk. I sought the cover of darkness so as not to distract the couple, but rather observe them.

  Mr. Nightquist began to unravel the long white tether attached to the kite and looked about him.

  “Where is Miss Wiskerton?” Fran asked from her post beside me.

  “She will be along, I promise you.” And like a vision, though a large one, Miss Wiskerton emerged into the soft evening light in a white dress that gently caressed the soft sand at her feet.

  Fran and I watched, neither of us uttering a word at this sacred moment.

  They shook hands cordially and Miss Wiskerton bowed her head shyly and held out the dish that contained the chicken Marsala. I imagined the words, “Dear Miss Wiskerton, how lovely you look this summer’s eve. My heart jumps in delight at this moment.”

  The flying of the elegant kites began, and my heart joined them, soaring in the sky. But alas, I was torn away from the scene by Fran’s earnest tugging on my arm. “Come on, Polly. I think we can go now.”

  “Just a moment longer, perhaps? A more handsome couple the world has never seen. Don’t you agree, Fran?”

  “Yeah. But it’s almost dinnertime, and I told Dad I’d be back. Besides, I thought I heard the bell from your house ringing.”

  I grabbed her hands and giggled. “Of course, my dearest, you are the voice of reason. I am grateful to you for keeping me upon the ground, for surely I would fly up into the clouds any moment. The lovers are well, and I must attend to other matters on this most glorious night.”

  Upon arriving at my small cottage, I plucked a single lily from the garden and swept into the kitchen, placing the fragrant flower in a thin, delicate vase and setting it in the middle of the dining table. Mama sat beside Papa, and Clementine gazed out into the evening sky, her spirits much improved.

  The moment was one of pure bliss, with everything right and beautiful in the world. I let my dainty hands caress the flower’s velvety petals. “Is it not gorgeous? Ah, what a full and magical day I have had. Isn’t each new day as new and sparkly as a diamond, as perfect and innocent as newfound love?”

  Clementine’s fork dropped to her plate, startling me out of my reverie.

  “Put a cork in it, Polly,” she said, dabbing at her moistened eyes.

  Her tone startled me, since I was quite sure she was most excited about the evening when we would relive times gone by together. “I am sorry, dearest Clementine. Are you still in the abyss of wounded love? For remember, in just two evenings, we will have so much fun that you will forget all about the boring boy who has laid waste to your heart.”

  She parted her lips to speak but was interrupted by the telephone ringing, which she grabbed with much eagerness.

  Dearest Edward already offering words of love and adoration?

  “Hey, Clint,” she whispered, and then tucked the telephone between her shoulder and ear and left the room.

  I arched my brows at the sound of Clint’s name. I really had hoped that I had heard the last of him. “Clint?” I directed my questioning look to Papa. “I thought we were rid of him.”

  “Yeah, I guess they broke up. They’ve been talking on and off all afternoon.”

  I dropped my own fork upon the porcelain plate and stood up. “I … I’ll be right back.” There was no time for explanations. I needed to hear Clementine and Clint’s conversation at once.

  “Just a second, Polly,” Mama called from her place at the table. “Wha
t were you and Clementine planning to do in a few days?”

  “Well, I was hoping to add cheer to her heart by getting Macko’s pizza and collecting seashells as we did when we were younger.”

  Mama nodded her head. “I know you’ve been missing Clementine, Polly, but she’s growing up, and so are you. You two are sisters, and that’ll never change, but things are a little different right now, and I just hope you don’t get your hopes up.”

  The words stung my heart but a little, for I pushed them out of my mind. “Thank you, dear Mama. But I assure you that just like Jane Bennet, Clementine is in need of her sister in these hours of need. Now, if you will excuse me.”

  Mama smiled. “Really, Polly, I think she just needs some time to work it out with Clint.”

  I reached down and squeezed her hand in my own. “Thank you, Mama, but really, I am afraid I am quite persuaded on this subject and will not change my mind.”

  She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “All right, Polly.”

  I left the kitchen, tiptoed lightly up the stairs, and took a cup from the bathroom. Placing the open end against Clementine’s door, I pressed my ear to the other and listened intently.

  “In two nights? Why so long? I’ll cancel whatever I need to.… All right,” Clementine said, and sniffled. “I miss you, too. I’ll be at Macko’s and we’ll talk.”

  But that was when she and I were going to renew the bonds of sisterly friendship!

  Surely this was a mistake. She would never treat me like something to be tossed so easily away, especially over the likes of Clint.

  The phone clicked off and I made a hasty retreat to the lavatory and turned the faucet on so that I would not draw suspicion.

  Her door opened, and I emerged from the bathroom. “Was that Clint?” I asked.

  She smiled, the first hint of joy I had seen on her face the entire day. “Yep, we’re gonna meet up and talk, not tomorrow night, but the next night.” She sighed and whispered, “Everything will work out.”

  “But, dearest Clementine, surely you haven’t forgotten about you and I going out on that evening?” I watched her face for some sign of remembrance but found none. My heart ached inside me. “Clemmy, you said we could go and get pizza and eat it at the beach and then collect seashells or something. You promised!”

  She rolled her eyes in a manner that was quite unattractive, especially considering the fact that she was backing out of her commitment to her own dear sister.

  “Come on, Pol. I need to talk to him. Besides, I don’t remember promising anything or even agreeing to it. We can do that another time.”

  And at that she brushed past me and down the stairs. “Clemmy!” I wailed after her. “You said we would! You’re so … so mean!” And then I retired to my bedroom, allowing the door to slam extra hard behind me as a sign of my wounded heart.

  I fell upon my bed in a fit of tears and did not even attempt to dab at my nose when I felt it begin to run.

  How could she? Did being a sister mean nothing to her? Did all our memories mean nothing? Did our sisterly bond produce no love or affection between us?

  I cried harder at the thought that our bond would forever be broken and she would be lost to me forever. I did not try to suppress the tears from coming, for they would not have stopped even if I had used all my powers to restrain them.

  “How could you?” I said aloud.

  Clint.

  Most likely this was all Clint’s doing. He probably persuaded her to break all commitments with me. The great beast was once more a barrier between sisters, and Clementine was ruining a chance at true love with Edward. “Indeed,” I said aloud, wiping my stinging nose with a handkerchief and rubbing my burning eyes. “I will not let him ruin our sisterly bond.” And then I thought upon Edward’s arrival in the morning, for surely he would help make all things right once more. This thought comforted me a little and hope renewed itself inside me. “I truly hope that dear Edward’s words will awaken Clementine’s heart to his gentlemanly qualities and the eternal love that is to be had with him.”

  Because if not, I must plan a different course of action.

  chapter sixteen

  In Which Things Go Slightly Awry

  and I Am Pursued Further

  The cheery sun beckoned me awake, as did the unfortunate scent of burning sugar. I arose at once and found myself drawn to the early morning dawn and the quiet solitude of the empty beach. The previous night was painful, yet I would not let go of hope.

  I slipped into my pale-blue sundress and fastened my straw hat underneath my chin with the silky ribbon. Edward would surely not arrive so early, and I was in need of an awakening of the mind and heart that only the sea could provide. Thus I slipped by Clementine, who was uttering curses at a rather large bowl of batter.

  I would return in time to offer Edward a most glorious selection of pastries, but I knew that I was in need of the sound of the surf to sink deep into my being and prepare me for a new day of love in the making.

  Outside the salty breeze tousled my hair, and I listened with rapture to the music of the birds crooning from the treetops. Once by the shore, I stooped upon the sand and plucked a smooth seashell from the shallow waves. Then I wrote upon the sand in beautiful script:

  Clementine and Edward

  Mr. Fisk and Miss Lucy Penny

  Mr. Nightquist and Miss Wiskerton

  And then I sat by the names, committing them to the ocean as the tide swept them to the place where the sea’s secrets are kept.

  “What are you doing out this early, Polly girl?”

  “Huh?” I jumped, startled by the sound of a deep voice from behind me. I looked up into the jovial face of Mr. Nightquist. He stood with one hand clutching a spool of string, the other a most beautiful and elegant kite. I stood. “My dear Mr. Nightquist, you quite startled me!”

  “Sorry, Polly. I didn’t want to interrupt you, but I thought I’d say hello.”

  “Indeed, I’m glad you did.” I gestured to the kite he held fast in his hand. “That one is beautiful indeed.”

  He nodded and looked down. “It belonged to Miriam, my wife. If you think I’m good at flying kites, you should have seen her. She could really make ’em soar.”

  “I am sure she could. I only wish that I had been acquainted with the beauty of character that I am sure she possessed.” I looked down at the waves of the ocean tickling the sand on the shore. “And may I ask how your lovely evening with the elegant Miss Wiskerton fared?” I gazed down at the shell in my hand, not wanting to sound as eager for every minute detail as I now was.

  He smiled. “Good. She hasn’t gotten kite flying just yet, but she wants to learn. And she’s quite the cook, I’ll admit. I’m giving her another lesson this evening.”

  Could it be? Were his cheeks blushing with anticipation? “I am so pleased, Mr. Nightquist. A more devoted lady no one could find.”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “And how do you think your dear Melissa Anne and her family will view any developments with the elegant Miss Wiskerton?” Though I knew Melissa Anne to be very sympathetic and romantic, I was not sure if she would approve of her father loving another.

  He fumbled with the kite, most likely caught up in thoughts of his fair maiden. “Well, it’s not like there’s anything serious between Eugenia May and me yet, but actually, I think Missy would be happy. She’s been trying to set me up with someone for years, but I just never felt ready. Who knows if I’m ready now? But for some reason, lately I’ve been feeling like Miriam would actually like it if I loved again, so I’ll follow her lead.”

  “Really? So you’ve tried to ask her what she thinks? That’s so sweet!” I declared, unable to contain my wonder at this new thought. Could it be that he was seeking her counsel this very morning?

  “Sure. Miriam was always the one that I turned to for advice, and I’m not about to reject her judgment now.”

  “Wow,” I said, then composed myself. “Mr. Nightquist, that is just so
gentlemanly and noble of you!”

  “Well, I don’t know about that, but I think she’s happy for me.”

  “Good. And I am most thankful she is leading you to this, Mr. Nightquist, for if anyone deserves to be happiest in this life, it is you … and myself, of course, as well as my sister, my dear parents, and of course Fran and her father. But I am tending to those as we speak.” I squeezed his hand in mine and bid him farewell. “There are many deliveries to be made this summer morn, so I must be off. Have a lovely evening with Miss Wiskerton.”

  “Polly?” Mr. Nightquist called after me. “Miss Wiskerton mentioned the delicious pastries I’d given her the past few mornings. She was very grateful. I don’t suppose you know anything about them?” He raised one eyebrow in a suspicious manner, though I could tell his expression meant no malice.

  Words fumbled inside my head, so I offered him a ladylike smile.

  “Well, I suppose you can keep delivering them, though I always like to pay for my purchases. And I think I can take things from here. I might’ve been out of the game for a while, but I still got it in me.” He winked and I waved, relieved that he was not angry with me for working in secret.

  Edward was just entering the bakery when I arrived at home, and I was able to sneak undetected through the back door. I had lingered too long at the sea, and now looked around at the carnage that Clementine had made of the muffins. Indeed, at that moment she was poking at a tray of blackened croissants that resembled misshapen pancakes.

  “I think there is a customer out front, Clementine,” I said, dumping the croissants into the trash can and handing her a tray of Danishes Mama must have made the previous night. “You better go take care of him,” I said, and then I pushed her through the doors and into the bakery.

  I listened intently at the door and managed to find a sliver through which to see what was taking place.

  “Hey, Clementine,” Edward said, most gallantly, I must say.