“Maybe you’re right. I should know more about the war than I do. As part of our heritage, I should be willing to do what I can to represent the women.” She paused. “As long as I don’t get stuck in Dr. Stroud’s amputation tent, I think it might be sort of fun.”
Debbie Mae threw her arms around Caroline’s neck. “Really? You won’t regret it! I promise!”
She laughed, knowing Debbie Mae couldn’t promise any such thing. Her cousin was making an effort to reconnect with her and she was glad about that. But maybe she needed to show some support to both of her husband, too. Manning had suffered the past year, along with his wife. It wouldn’t kill her to hang out at a battle ground and watch the crazies for the day. Really, how bad could it be?
"I know no man more likely than Mr. Knightley to do the sort of thing - to do anything really good-natured, useful, considerate, or benevolent. He is not a gallant man, but he is a very humane one - and for an act of unostentatious kindness, there is nobody whom I would fix on more than on Mr. Knightley."- Mrs. Weston
Chapter Seventeen
Caroline held up the dress carefully with one hand. Making her way back down the narrow staircase from Brooks’ room was harder than she thought. The little slippers on her feet were soft and she could feel the wood grain through the fabric. The mirror in the bathroom was much too small to see anything except her head and a few inches of the dress, so she and Debbie Mae decided to troop back to the living room. The men would be struggling into their outfits. It made her smile to think that, for once, men had a harder time getting ready than women.
Debbie Mae chattered the entire way, listing the places she’d had to call before she could find a caterer that would agree to make Regency food. Towering jello molds, meet pies, mulled wine, and all sorts of tiny sweets were on the menu. Caroline sent up a silent thank you for the lack of pink lemonade.
“I think there’s a large standing mirror in the small sitting room.” Debbie Mae led her down another staircase. “I think Mr. Elliot is going to have to do something about those outbuildings. This looks nice enough, but I walked through the gardens and saw someone had broken into the old schoolhouse.”
Caroline sucked in a breath. “What did they do?”
She shrugged. “I couldn’t tell. It’s not exactly fit for guests. Maybe they just snooped around a little. He should board them up.”
“Don’t some of the tours go back there? The sugar cane fields are all grass, but you can still see where the slave quarters were.”
Debbie Mae nodded. “But nobody wants to look at that sort of thing anymore. It’s bad publicity. Manning said someone told them they should be ashamed to preserve any of it, that taking a torch to it would be better. I think Mr. Elliot felt like they were calling him a racist.”
“Ridiculous. Just because history isn’t the way we like it, doesn’t mean we can change it.” She didn’t want to carry the burden of being the heir to Badewood, but she certainly didn’t think hiding the past would help anyone. “The school visits are worth the cost to keep up the buildings. I hope he doesn’t do anything sudden.”
Absalom appeared and followed them to the sitting room. They stopped, side by side. A floor to ceiling gilt mirror reflected the image of two young Regency ladies. One with dark auburn hair, one with light blond curls. Debbie Mae reached out and grasped her hand. “Oh, Caroline!”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The hairstyles were wrong and they didn’t have gloves and Debbie Mae had painted nails, but it was almost perfect. Absalom stood behind them, wagging the back half of his body in happiness.
The sound of someone clearing his throat made them both turn away from the mesmerizing sight of their reflection. Manning and Brooks stood there, side by side, looking nothing like brothers, more like distant cousins. “Hey, check it out.” Manning spread his arms. “It’s country mouse and city mouse.”
One was roughly dressed, with a simple vest and old-fashioned trousers. His boots were held together with twine. Manning grinned and swept the hat from his head with a deep bow.
Brooks seemed frozen to the spot. Caroline smiled at him but he didn’t respond, obviously uncomfortable in his costume. Breeches clung to his legs, tapering into tall riding boots. The deep blue morning coat fit perfectly and the white waistcoat buttons didn’t strain across his flat stomach. He put his hands on his hips and not finding pockets, just dropped them to the side, as if he didn’t know what to do with them.
Debbie Mae rushed forward. “Sweetie, you are adorable.” She turned Manning around, tugging at the back of his vest to see if it was too tight. “The butt on these trousers are a bit saggy but that’s probably more a problem with the man inside than the tailoring.”
“Hey, now.” Manning protested with a laugh. He grabbed Debbie Mae and kissed her soundly on the mouth. She reached her arms around his neck and they grinned at each other, lost in their own little world.
Brooks coughed politely. “Should we leave you two alone?”
“Later, babe.” Manning gave Debbie Mae a final squeeze and let her go. Caroline laughed at the pink in her cheeks. Maybe it never got old, being in love with the same person year after year. These two made it look downright easy.
Manning’s phone chirped and he looked at the display. “Andrea is coming over with catering samples.”
“Right, I totally forgot. I can’t wait to taste the flummery.”
“I’m not sure if I want to know what that is,” Manning said.
“It’s a sort of jelly, but made into a mold that is shaped like a castle or a tower or just a” she wiggled one hand “big wobbly thing. The ragout of veal will be a hit, I’m sure. And the Roman punch will have to be changed a little bit. It’s usually lemon water and hot syrup with a lot of rum.”
“Rum and hot syrup? Maybe we could just have beer,” Manning suggested
“No, no beer. I want the Roman punch, but we’ll have to make it non-alcoholic. I’m not feeding thirsty guests a 40 proof drink and then sending them out into the night to drive home.”
“Very wise. Also, I think there will be some minors, relatives of the band. Unless we’re positioning an adult by the punch table, it’s better if we don’t have to monitor who gets which brew,” Brooks said.
“True. Well, let’s get working on that tie before she gets here.” She took her phone from her purse and found a pictorial how-to. “Ok, Neckclothitania is an original pamphlet someone put out to help men tie their cravats.”
“Wait, say that again?” Manning had stretched out on the couch and was obviously already enjoying the idea of Brooks getting fussed over.
“Neckclothitania. Don’t interrupt.” Debbie Mae gave him a look and went back to her phone. “So, there are a few you can try. Um, maybe Caroline can start slow and see if the basic knot would look nice.”
“Me? Why me?” Caroline held up her hands. “I don’t know a thing about tying ties.”
“I’ve got to go clear off counter space and get out serving spoons. We’re all going to taste the food when she brings it.” Debbie Mae handed her the phone and left before she could argue.
“I’ll help.” Manning got off the couch and was gone seconds later.
“Huh. What do you think? I bet they’ll be making out in the kitchen while we struggle with the-” Caroline peered at the tiny screen. “The mathematical tie. Whatever that is.”
“I can do it. Let me see.” Brooks held out a hand.
“These directions are from the front.”
“Men had valets back then,” he said. His face was tight, as if he would have loved to be anywhere but there.
“Oh, true.” She scrolled through a few photos and then shrugged, laying the phone on the table. “Nothing we can do but try.”
He stood in front of her and she ran her fingers up around his collar, finding the long strips of fabric. She had to stand on tiptoe, missing the few inches of height her running shoes gave her. “You’re so tall, lean a little closer.”
Brooks shifted, bending down a bit. He said nothing, focusing his gaze somewhere over her left shoulder. His mouth was a thin line.
“You look very nice, you know. There’s no reason to be upset.”
His gaze shot to her face. “I’m not upset. Why do you think I’m upset?”
Caroline leaned to the side, tugging him with her while she frowned at the pictures on the phone screen. Standing straight, she crossed the strips, tucking one under the other. “You don’t think I know you? I know everything about you, Professor Elliot.”
His lips parted as if he was going to say something then he simply shook his head. “If you say so.”
She mumbled under her breath. “Two diagonal creases from under each ear to the knot, and a horizontal crease at the front which reaches to each side.” She folded the strips carefully, her bottom lip between her teeth. It was distracting to be so close to him while trying to perform cravat origami. The instructions flowed out of her head as soon as she read them. And he smelled good. Really good. She wanted to lean forward and stick her face into his shirt.
“Now you look upset.”
Caroline laughed, feeling her cheeks burn. “No, just irritated with myself. This should be simple. I’m just not concentrating.”
He nodded. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be right here… in my morning coat and hunting boots.”
She snickered. “Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. If it helps, you look absolutely dashing. Debbie Mae couldn’t ask for a better Regency hero.”
“That’s what I don’t understand. Why doesn’t she make Manning wear this get-up? Why me?”
Caroline swept the last strip under the other and stood back to admire her creation. “It actually worked!” She cocked her head. “We should try another. Just to make sure we’ve got it covered. And to answer your question, I think it’s all part of her plan to find you a wife.”
“Ah. The women will come running when they seem me in my fancy mathematical neck cloth.”
Caroline pulled the tie apart, letting the starched fabric run through her fingers. She knew he was being sarcastic, but she didn’t have to guess what would happen at the dance. Women would fall over in a dead faint. He’d never looked so handsome. She hadn’t even read the book and she was half-in love with Mr. Knightley.
“I wonder what it was really like back then. We think it’s all fun and flirting, but there was probably a lot of ugly reality.”
“Like the dancing.”
She grinned and looked for another example to try. “Oh, here. The Ballroom Tie! We’ll try that.”
Wrapping the strips around his neck, she let her fingers rest for a moment against his jaw. “You feel hot. Are you too warm?” The weather was much cooler than what it had been the day before but he was wearing about four more layers than she was.
“I’m fine.” His tone was short, as if he were thoroughly and completely bored with the process.
“And we wrap it around again.” She paused to check the pictures. “Bring the ends under the arms and pinned in the back.” She leaned forward, reaching under his coat with an end of the cloth in each hand.
“Wait, wait.” Brooks backed up a step, and then another.
“Don’t worry, I won’t stick you with a pin. I don’t even have one.” She still had her hands under his coat, flat against his rib cage. She could feel the hard ridges of muscle under his vest and shirt.
His jaw was tight but he nodded.
“I think…” She put both hands behind his back, feeling her fingers touch. “I think I might just be able to tie the ends. We wouldn’t even need a pin.” She was talking right into the front of his shirt, eye-to-eye with the cloth covered buttons. She could feel his chest move with every breath and his heart beat directly into her right ear. He did smell very good. She allowed herself one small moment to inhale deeply.
“There.” She moved back and straightened his coat. “Now you’re ready.”
He nodded. “I am.” Something flashed behind his eyes. “Caroline, I thought I could wait but I need to tell you something.”
He’d found someone, a serious girlfriend. The look on his face said it all. There was nothing else it could be. She had been too close to him, probably making him feel uncomfortable. He needed to set boundaries, make sure he was clear about where they stood. Her cheeks flamed. “It’s all right, you don’t have to share anything you don’t want to.”
She looked at the floor, feeling humiliation flash through her. “I was just teasing about knowing everything about you. Of course I don’t. Of course you have interests and ideas and… friends that have nothing to do with me,” she said.
“That’s just it. It does have to do with you.” He hauled in a breath. “Remember when we argued about Lexi?”
She nodded. Who could forget? She felt like she’d lost his friendship forever.
“That week, I did a lot of thinking-” The doorbell sounded and he stopped.
“Debbie Mae will get it.”
He nodded. His eyes were shadowed with anxiety and he rubbed his face. “Okay. What I was saying was after we had that fight, I had a lot of time to think. I realized that this friendship,” he motioned to the space between them, “is more important to me than almost anything else. I don’t want to ruin it.”
“Um, well. Good.” His words should have made her feel relief, but instead dread crept over her. He was preparing her for something awful, something he felt like she couldn’t bear to hear.
The doorbell rang again, this time sounding the a bit impatient.
“Maybe they’re still kissing in the kitchen.” Caroline wondered if they could even hear the doorbell back there.
Brooks looked toward the door, exasperation written on his face. “Let me get it.”
She nodded and he left the room, striding out like a man on a mission. She sank to the couch, clutching her hands together. She was shocked to feel them trembling. So, he found a girlfriend. It wasn’t that bad. He’d had girlfriends before and nothing had been permanently decided. The vision of Brooks in a tuxedo, standing at the altar in front of hundreds of guests flashed through her mind. Her stomach twisted. Maybe she could be friends with the new girlfriend. Maybe they could all hang out together.
She almost laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of the idea. No woman would ever want to share Brooks. She didn’t want to share him.
“Caroline?” Debbie Mae poked her head in. “I’m going to change. I don’t want to get any food on my dress before the big night.”
“Good idea.” She stood up, feeling weak at the knees. She followed Debbie Mae back up the stairs. Whatever Brooks was going to say, he’d have to wait until later. And maybe by then he’ll have decided he didn’t really need to drop whatever bomb it was he’d been holding. She would just have to show him that their friendship was solid, nothing could crack the years they had behind them. She could only hope he would forget all about it.
“Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken.”-- Emma
Chapter Eighteen
“One of your friends stopped by while you were out.”
Brooks closed the front door behind him. His father was sitting in a wingchair in the entry way, legs crossed, hands folded over his chest, as if deep in thought.
“Which friend?” He’d only been gone a few minutes, down to the drugstore for a toothbrush.
“Marshall somebody. Said he’d heard we were ready to part with some antiques.”
Brooks froze mid step. “Antiques?”
His father nodded, eyes locked on his. “That’s what he’d said.”
“Unbelievable.” He felt his jaw go tight. “He conned Caroline’s mother out of all their china and silver. The attic is cleared out of anything older than fifty years. He replaced the essentials with retail junk. Caroline was crushed and there’s nothing she can do to get it all back.”
“I figure
d he was no friend of yours.” He heaved himself out of the chair like an old man. “That’s all I wanted to tell you.”
Brooks watched his father walk back down the hallway, shocked at how fragile he looked. The man was beaten, broken, lost. All over a marriage he wasn’t happy part of in the first place. The illogic of it made his head ache.
And now Marshall was poking his nose around Badewood. Well, perhaps it was time he paid his ‘friend’ a little visit.
***
“Your dog is breathing down my neck. Shoo, Absalom!” Blanche waved a hand over her shoulder. “He needs a visit to the doggy dentist.”
Brooks checked the GPS and turned left. “You’re hurting his feelings. He just wants to share the love.” Kids didn’t use dog breath as an insult for nothing. He cracked the window.
“I should have worn my sunhat. I feel exposed. If I’m undercover then I should have disguise. I have a lot of friends in Oxford and somebody might spot me.”
“Grandma, we’re not undercover. We’re just visiting.”
She shot him a look. “You’re visiting a friend 45 minutes away without calling and you don’t know the address but you won’t ask them for directions?”
“Ok, we might be visiting unannounced.” He paused to look at street numbers. “And uninvited.”
“Should I be prepared for a fight? Is it over a woman?” She sat up straight and clutched her giant lime green tote to her chest. Her expression was one of sheer delight.
“No, nothing like that. This guys just convinced Caroline’s mother to hand over all the American primitives in the whole place. She even gave up the china and silver.”
Blanche gasped. “The Stubbs? I loved those pieces.” She frowned. “Funny. After that party where I added the rum to the punch by accident, I didn’t get invited back.”
Brooks pulled into a parking spot and left the engine running. “I don’t see how you can empty a whole liter of dark rum into the punch bowl by accident.”
2 Emma, Mr. Knightley, and Chili-Slaw Dogs Page 17