Pride, Prejudice, and Cheese Grits

by Hathaway, Mary Jane

  Shelby blinked. “That crazy poem with the bird that repeats the same word over and over?” Somehow, Poe just didn’t fit her definition of romantic or humorous.

  She laughed, shaking her head. “You’d have to hear it, really. I was dying.” She gave Shelby a quick squeeze around the shoulders and then said, “Anyway, we’ve still got work to do. And now for your hair...”

  Two hours later, Shelby stood in their living room. Her normally curly hair had been smoothed back into a fancy chignon, kept in place with several delicate pins, a few tendrils loose about her face. A large, simply set moonstone pendant on a silver chain rested against her throat. Smoky gray eye liner made her eyes look even larger and the green dress brought out their flecks of gold. Her arms felt uncomfortably bare and she nervously checked the straps over her shoulders one more time.

  “Don’t fidget, it ruins the effect,” Rebecca reminded her. “You have to wear it with confidence.”

  “I’d feel a lot more confident if I didn’t feel so naked,” Shelby said as she smoothed her hands down the skirt, the silky material gave more than a hint to the curves they covered.

  “You have beautiful legs. And those perfect ankles were made to wear sandals like these every day. I don’t know why you always want to wear pants.” Rebecca tilted her head and assessed Shelby’s lower half.

  “Because I have to walk around in front of a class full of students and I don’t want to worry about my skirt being tucked into my underwear, that’s why,” Shelby retorted.

  “A totally unreasonable fear, if you ask me.” Rebecca picked a piece of lint off the skirt and sniffed the air. “You smell incredible. What is that?”

  “You know Mama is always giving me perfume. I thought I would crack one open for the occasion.” Actually, she had opened about ten bottles of expensive perfume her mother had given her over the past few years and selected the one she thought was the least intrusive. They had to ride together in the car, so nothing too heavy or sweet.

  Rebecca inspected Shelby’s hair one more time. “If these jeweled bobby pins start to come loose, don’t try to put them back in. You’ll ruin the shape of the bun. Just try to slide them out and tuck them in your purse.”

  “ Are you saying I have to worry about the hair, too?”

  “I’m just saying ‘in case’, that’s all. No stress!” Rebecca backed up with her hands out, a big grin on her face. “I have to say, this is probably my best work yet, by far.”

  “Jane Austen would be so proud. Another girl trussed up for a fancy party.”

  “On the contrary, she’d be horrified. All that skin. You’d need about another five yards of material.”

  At that moment the doorbell sounded. Shelby grabbed Rebecca’s hand, a panicked look in her eyes.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” she hissed. ‘Tell him I’m sick!”

  “Not a chance,” Rebecca said and gently led Shelby to the door. “It’s going to be amazing. You’re going to meet tons of important people and get an editor interested in your paper and whirl around looking gorgeous and everyone will know your name by the time the evening’s over.”

  Shelby took a deep breath and said, “And if you’re wrong?”

  “Then we’ll cry about it over ice cream afterwards,” she whispered and stepped back as Shelby opened the door.

  Ransom stood with his hand raised, as if he were just about ready to ring the bell again. His eyes opened wide in surprise, taking in the perfect tendrils falling about her face to the dress that hugged her figure to her matching sandals that revealed perfectly manicured toes.

  “Um, Shelby, I hope I’m- Hi, Rebecca. It’s- am I late?”

  It was such an odd statement that for a moment Shelby stared, speechless. He cleared his throat and frowned.

  “Would you like to come in?” Shelby said politely. He looked about the same as the last time she’d seen him, and that was stunningly handsome. The party was formal wear only, but his tuxedo was several steps above what Shelby considered the usual tux. It was very fine black wool, clearly cut to measure. The gray pinstriped vest covered most of his fine white shirt, and matched the style of his black jacket, cut long. It wasn’t modern or retro. It was timeless.

  For just a moment, Shelby saw Darcy.

  And then as if he felt uncomfortable under her scrutiny, Ransom adjusted his cuffs. She blinked, and Darcy had disappeared.

  “Thank you,” he said and she stepped aside. Suddenly it seemed the living room was half the size it had been before. He stood awkwardly near their old red velvet couch and Shelby waved him to a seat. He sat at one end, his eyes following her as she walked to the love seat.

  “Can I get you a drink, Ransom? We have iced tea, water, soda, some juice,” Rebecca offered. Shelby smiled at Rebecca’s effortless hospitality. She could put anyone at ease.

  “No, no.” Ransom abruptly stood. “Thank you, but we should be going.”

  “Sure Let me get my purse.” Shelby grabbed it off the table as Ransom headed for the door. Rebecca gave her a questioning stare and Shelby shrugged in response. Maybe he liked to be on time.

  To her relief, the SUV had been replaced by a sleek black Saab. She hadn’t thought of trying to hop into the higher vehicle until that moment and sent a thankful prayer skyward. Crossing the porch she caught the toe of her sandal on the step and Ransom’s hand shot out to steady her.

  “I’m not used to these, I guess.” She peered down at her sandal. “I don’t think it hurt anything.” His hand still gripped hers and she felt an electricity pass through her. Breathlessly, she tried to focus on where she was walking while gently removing her hand.

  “You’re worried about the shoe? You could have broken your leg.” He glanced down and Shelby swore she could feel the path of his gaze.

  “They’re Rebecca’s. She has so many that she probably wouldn’t cry if I brought it back with a strap broken, but I don’t want her to regret loaning me the pair.”

  “And the dress?” He asked the question lightly, glancing over as he opened the door.

  Shelby’s face turned pink. “It’s mine, actually.” No reason to be embarrassed. A little shorter than she was used to, and the bodice was very fitted, but it covered everything well enough. She lifted her chin and tried to remember Rebecca’s advice about not fidgeting.

  Sliding into the black leather seat, she adjusted the fabric carefully, making sure her skirt stayed close to her legs. He settled in behind the wheel and smoothly pulled away from the curb.

  “It’s very nice,” he said simply. Silence descended heavily into the small space.

  Oh please, don’t let us ride there in awkward silence, Shelby thought desperately. I’d rather argue the whole way.

  He was struggling for the appearance of composure, and would not open his lips till he believed himself to have attained it.

  -Pride and Prejudice

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  “Thank you for coming. This night should be a lot more fun than it usually is.” Ransom smiled and she was suddenly aware of how close they were in the cockpit of the car.

  “Well, don’t thank me yet. I could turn out to be a total bore. Maybe I can rustle up some long story about my last dental appointment.” She kept her voice light and tried not to look directly at him. She could smell what she was beginning to think of as ‘his’ scent, and was tempted to inhale deeply.

  “I don’t think you could be boring if you tried.” He sounded serious and Shelby longed to peek at his face to see if he was teasing her. She pretended to examine her nails for rough edges and wondered why Tasha wasn’t able to go.

  “Is Collier House open to the public?”

  “A few times a year my aunt lets tours go through, mostly in the main house and the preserved outbuildings. Being on the historical register helps keep the developers at bay but there are still a few that try to convince her to sell.”

  David Whitcomb’s beach houses flashed through her mind. “I’ve met someone like that. H
e asks them to name a price and hints that it will be refurbished and they’ll fight to get it on the register. Once the deal is done then they do what they want, usually by replacing all of the original fixtures and gutting the inside. At the worst they just tear it down and build something else on the site.”

  “Disgusting. But she is more than a match for them. I witnessed some poor guy after he’d spent ten minutes on the receiving end of her wrath. He could hardly talk straight.”

  Shelby shifted uncomfortably. If it was anything close to what her nephew could do with a book review, she knew exactly how that man had felt. She turned her head and watched their neighborhood slide away.

  “Greek Revival architecture would be difficult to work with, those pillars and long windows. I don’t know why they would bother,” Shelby said.

  “Probably just making offers for some Wall Street type who wants a vacation home. Federal style has become really popular lately in subdivisions. Up in New Haven, about five miles from my home there, they have whole neighborhoods that look like groups of tiny plantation homes, without the land, of course, or any kind of yard.”

  “Growing up at Collier House must influence your tastes. It’s hard to come from a real historic home and appreciate any kind of imitation.”

  Ransom glanced at her in surprise. “I didn’t grow up there. I was raised at Bellepointe, in Natchez.”

  Shelby’s mouth fell open, and she struggled to cover her surprise. Bellepointe was one of the most beautiful plantation homes to survive the war. “Oh. I thought that Collier House was your family home. Margaret is your father’s sister?”

  Shelby frantically searched her memory for any tidbits that Rebecca had passed on, and remembered nothing. She cursed her own failure to research his family. Five minutes on Google and you wouldn’t seem quite so out of the loop, she chided herself.

  “My mother’s sister. She had a falling out with her family sometime after she married my father. When my parents divorced she decided that the South was the worst place to raise a child when you’re trying to live in the modern world. I’d have to agree with her.”

  Shelby almost choked. She clenched her teeth until the urge to start a fight had passed. So what if the man didn’t want to raise children in the South? Tasha looked like she would be more than happy up in Connecticut.

  “Do you visit Bellepointe very often?” Shelby had an idea of it as an impressive, pale stone structure with a sloping roof. The original property had tens of thousands of acres but was a quarter the size now.

  Ransom was quiet for a moment. “He sold the place when I was an undergraduate. I approached the owners a few years ago, hoping they would be interested in selling, but they’re happy with it.” His eyes were tight and his lips were a grim line. “They’ve made a very successful business there. Top rated inn with a five star restaurant. The weddings are booked a year in advance. They put in an olympic sized pool at the back and exercise gym in the basement.”

  He sighed. “At least they preserved the old greenhouse. My grandfather and I spent hours there every day in the spring and fall. He had an award winning African violet collection. It will always be home to me, even if I can’t go back.”

  Shelby dared a glance at him. The shadow of pain that flickered behind his eyes made her heart twist in her chest. “I’m sorry. My own family home was built around the turn of the century and it gives me comfort to know that three generations of Roswells have raised their children there.”

  “Do you have older siblings? Who will it pass to?” He checked the rear view mirror and switched lanes. As they passed a classic forties red Ford, Shelby returned the smile of a thin, elderly man in a cowboy hat.

  “I’m the oldest by ten years. We haven’t discussed it much but it seems my two younger sisters aren’t nearly as interested in the old place as I am. One of them has said she’d just sell it to the highest bidder, and the other admits that she detests all the old wallpaper and fixtures and would renovate it into something unrecognizable. I know it’s been hard for my parents to keep up with it lately. You have to be a gardener, plumber, carpenter, re-upholsterer and refinisher all in one.”

  Ransom chuckled and Shelby warmed to the sound. Rebecca would be so proud. They weren’t arguing one bit.

  “I’ve been trying my hand at carpentry and it can be a test of wills. You accidentally split a prime piece of oak while putting on the last touches and you can’t fix that. It’s taught me some patience, for sure. Some things can’t be hurried.”

  “My Aunt Junetta is always trying out new hobbies. She took a class on wood working and loved it.”

  “The same aunt your were visiting before the ice storm?” He glanced over, his lips touched by a smile.

  “Right. We spend a lot of time together, when we can. She’s the most like me, or maybe I’m the most like her.” She laughed, thinking of her aunt’s opinionated ways. “We like to cook... Cook and talk.”

  “Ah, cooking and gossiping, that’s a lethal combination.”

  “No, she doesn’t believe in gossip, it’s against her faith. We do talk, but mostly about our plans, things we could do, or change, if we could. I’ve had bigger brainstorms in her kitchen, kneading pie dough, than anywhere near Midlands.” She paused, considering. “And when I think of home, I think of her.”

  “She sounds like a wonderful woman,” he said, his voice soft.

  Shelby jumped when her purse vibrated on her lap. Frowning, she opened the green silk clutch and peeked at her phone. “Excuse me,” Shelby muttered and flipped it open.

  Hope everything goes well!

  Remember, no arguing!

  Shelby flushed and typed back,

  Go away, we’re conversing.

  She couldn’t believe Rebecca’s nerve but had to smile. She snapped the phone closed and returned it to her purse.

  “Sorry about that. I think it’s horrible manners when people text during a conversation.”

  “But you just did.” He raised his eyebrows. “At least you have it set on stun.”

  “It was just Rebecca reminding me not to argue.” Shelby felt obligated to share the contents of the text so that he wouldn’t think they were discussing him. Well, they were, but not in a bad way.

  He laughed, so long and so loudly that Shelby started to protest.

  “It’s not that funny,” she said, frowning.

  “Oh, yes it is. One, your roommate knows you so well that she’s giving you advice by text while you’re on your date. Two, then you shared that advice with me, your date.” He glanced over his shoulder and then quickly passed a slower vehicle.

  “I can certainly feel free to share it with you since you’re not really my date.”

  “I’m not?” He turned to look at her now, brows knitted together. “I thought that was the definition of a date, when two people attend a social function together. They arrive together, spend a majority of the time at the function together, and leave together. Unless you’re planning on disappearing once we arrive and going home with someone else?” His tone was still light but Shelby blushed deeply.

  “No, I wasn’t. But you can’t say we’re on a date, can you? That implies something else entirely.”

  “How so?”

  He looked her in the eyes and Shelby felt as if the logic had fallen out of the conversation. How to explain that they weren’t on a date because that implied romance? He was engaged and she was just along to make some social connections.

  “I thought we agreed... I thought you understood that I was coming along because...”

  “You agreed to come because you think it will raise your social standing. I understand. And I understood when you accepted.”

  Shelby saw an emotion flicker in his eyes and then it was gone.

  “I will do my utmost best to introduce you to anyone and everyone that could further your career.” He bowed his head briefly in mock gentility. “I must add that I think you have done very well for yourself without any pandering. There may
not be any benefit from this outing at all.”

  Shelby chewed on one nail and considered that for a moment. “Rebecca doesn’t approve. She thinks this could backfire and I could be in a worse position than I am now.”

  He glanced at her sharply. “In what way?”

  “Well, I do have a habit of speaking my mind and if I manage to offend someone more influential” than you, she thought “-someone who might have helped me get published, then I’ll be in a deeper hole. Deeper than if I had just stayed home and submitted my papers the traditional way.”

  “So, your outspokenness is in private as well as public? At a small party as well as say, in front of hundreds of people?” He wasn’t smiling, but Shelby felt laughter lurking under the surface of his words.

  “You know,” she sighed, “I’ve been meaning to say-“

  “Oh don’t take it back, please. It is truly one of the few moments that I will never forget. More than ten years of teaching and they all start to blend together.”

  “I wasn’t going to take it back. I think it showed sloppy research. Unless you have someone else do your research, and in that case you probably should fire them immediately.”

  “Excuse me?” He looked like he’d been slapped. “I do all my own research, thank you. And Beverly spent time in Oxford in his twenties, so I wasn’t so far off.”

  “Now you’re making excuses. Time there in his twenties equals a hometown?”

  His gaze stayed on the road ahead but his eyes narrowed. Shelby noticed the speedometer creeping higher.