by Kit Morgan
“I’m so glad you came,” Nanette gushed. “Good evening, Mr. Petite,” she said as an afterthought. Not that it mattered. Oswald was surveying the crowd, obviously looking for someone. They both knew whom.
“My, but this is quite the affair,” Sarah commented.
“Yes, it is, my favorite of the season. Have you seen Mr. Fielding, yet?”
Sarah’s heart skipped a beat. “No, not yet. Is he coming?” But of course, he would. His family was part of Philadelphia’s elite. More importantly, would his cousin come?
“Cecily Miller told me he was invited,” Nanette said and craned her neck to see over several people in front of them. “If only I were taller. Mr. Petite?”
Oswald sighed. “Who are you looking for?”
“Mr. Fielding,” she said. “Do you see him?”
Oswald also craned his neck and stood on tip-toe. “I’m afraid not. You’ll just have to wait.” He looked her over, smirked, then went back to his own search.
Sarah shook her head in dismay. One minute Oswald could be a decent sort. The next, she wanted to smack him. Maybe it was best he didn’t see Elizabeth. Let her think they were courting. But then, how was she going to get rid of him? Good heavens! She didn’t want everyone there to think they were a couple.
She fought against a sigh. She didn’t mind Oswald, so long as she didn’t have to spend too much time with him. Personally, she didn’t think he knew what he wanted, or whom, for that matter. He was “trying her out” as they say. Besides, he had to get around to the women on her rung of the social ladder sometime. If he were smart, he’d climb back up where he belonged.
“Do you think Mr. Fielding will bring his cousin?” Nanette asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“Good heavens,” Oswald said. “I hope not.”
Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “Mr. Petite!”
He gave her a casual glance. “He doesn’t belong here.”
“If Mr. Fielding wishes to bring him as a guest, then he is as welcome as anyone else,” Sarah said.
Oswald smirked. “Including you?”
She gasped. Nanette quickly took her by the arm and steered her away. A good thing. Sarah didn’t fancy walking home after telling Oswald what she thought of that comment.
“Oh, look,” Nanette said. “There’s my mother. Let’s go say hello.”
“I saw your mother last week,” Sarah said.
“Yes, and I saw her today, but not while keeping you from murdering Oswald,” she said and pulled her along.
They reached Nanette’s parents, exchanged a few pleasantries, and moved on to the refreshment table. Once they each held a glass of punch, Sarah breathed easier. Of course, that didn’t mean she wasn’t still mad. “That man. How dare he say such a thing!”
“That’s Oswald for you. Good one moment, bad the next. He’s like two different people.”
“I say we not encourage Elizabeth toward him,” Sarah said, her mind made up.
“I agree. Besides, this is her first season. She’ll have plenty of other gentlemen calling on her.”
“I hope so. You didn’t see the look on her face when she thought Oswald and I were courting.”
“What? Why would she think that?”
Sarah sighed. “Because my mother has started wagging her tongue about us, that’s why.”
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry. Doesn’t she realize Oswald … that he … well, can’t make up his mind?”
Sarah laughed. At least she wasn’t the only one that thought so. “No. She figures that if she drops hints that the two of us are courting, it will get around the city. Lock him in, as it were.”
“That’s terrible,” Nanette commented then took a sip of punch.
“No, that’s desperation,” Sarah said with a sigh. “Why can’t my parents just let me be? I’m all right with being a,” she swallowed hard, “spinster.”
Nanette studied her. “No, you’re not.” She glanced around. “Oh, look! There they are!”
Sarah followed her gaze. Mr. Fielding and Mr. Waller stood not twenty feet away, speaking with Mr. Olson. “They both came.”
Nanette nudged her. “Yes, both of them.” She lowered her voice. “Aren’t they handsome?”
Sarah took in Nanette’s bright eyes. “Yes,” she drawled. “Quite.” She leaned toward her and whispered, “When were you going to tell me?”
Nanette’s head snapped to her. “Tell you what?” Her eyes flicked to the men and back.
“About Ned Fielding,” she said with a smile.
Nanette’s eyes widened. “Shhh, I don’t want anyone to hear.”
Sarah’s smile broadened. “Hear what? That you’re sweet on him?”
“What? Nonsense!”
“You are!”
“I’m not!”
Sarah smiled again and looked at the two gentlemen. Ned was taller than most, with thick, wavy brown hair and bright blue eyes. Mr. Waller was shorter, with the same brown hair, though not as thick, and his eyes the same bright blue. She knew Ned Fielding was educated and a gentleman. Mr. Waller, also educated (obviously, considering his vocation) was, for the most part, also a gentleman. Minus the large bank account of course. How one was rich and the other poor, Sarah had no idea.
She watched as Mr. Fielding introduced his cousin to several men before spying them. His face broke into a wide smile and he smacked Mr. Waller on the arm. The two then made their way toward them.
“Someone looks happy to see you,” Sarah pointed out.
“And you,” Nanette added.
“What?” Sarah looked. Mr. Waller’s face was lit with recognition as they approached. Oh, my. She unconsciously licked her lips and prayed she looked all right. She wore a light gold colored dress covered in embroidered dark, golden dots. It had short puffed sleeves trimmed in lace, perfect for the heated room. If only she had a matching fan …
“Miss Olson, Miss Clemmons,” Ned Fielding greeted with a small bow. “How lovely to see you.”
Nanette smiled. “Good evening,” she said with a small curtsy.
Sarah looked at the two men. Mr. Fielding was staring at Nanette while Mr. Waller had his eyes fixed on her. She gulped. “Good evening.” She almost forgot to curtsy.
He smiled. “It is now.”
She blinked a few times. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t mind, Abijah,” Mr. Fielding said. “He’s not one for fancy balls and parties. And he abhors musicales.”
Mr. Waller shrugged. “It’s true.”
Sarah smiled. “At least you admit it. And in mixed company too.”
“Well, I for one adore musicales,” Nanette said. “What about you, Mr. Fielding?”
“Yes,” he said and looked into her eyes.
Sarah took that as a cue. “Why don’t you ask Miss Olson to dance, Mr. Fielding? I’m sure you’re on her dance card. Or will be.”
Nanette looked at her, made a face, and quickly smiled. “Yes, well, let me check.” She opened her card and quickly made a note. “Yes, there you are.”
He smiled. “Well, luck is with me.” He motioned toward the source of the music. “Shall we?”
Nanette smiled, took the arm he offered, and they were off.
Sarah sighed as she watched them go. “They make a lovely couple, don’t they?”
Mr. Waller made an odd sound low in his throat. Was he trying not to laugh? “Yes, I suppose they do.” He glanced at the refreshment table. “Would you like some more punch?”
You can ask me to dance, she thought to herself. “Thank you.” She handed him her glass. He was off like a shot, as if he couldn’t wait to get away from her. She didn’t take it personally. He must be uncomfortable in such a large gathering.
Sarah sighed and spied Oswald leading Elizabeth to the dance floor. She then turned to see Mr. Waller at the refreshment table. “I guess this means I won’t be dancing with either of one you.” She blew out a breath, patted her hair, and waited for Mr. Waller to return with her punch.
Chap
ter 7
Abijah took two glasses of punch, sucked in a few deep breaths, and turned to face Sarah Clemmons. She looked beautiful in her gown of gold trimmed with lace, a true vision. A tingle went up his spine the moment he saw her, and their eyes met. He hoped he made it through the evening without tripping or spilling something on himself. “Here you are,” he said and handed her a glass.
“Thank you.” She glanced around the ballroom. “It’s so crowded in here. But then, most balls are.”
“I take it you feast on the entire season?”
“Feast?” She said with a laugh.
“Yes, you know, like a banquet?”
“Why, Mr. Waller, I never thought of it that way. If that’s the case, then this must be Thanksgiving.”
He chuckled. “Then what constitutes Christmas?”
“My, I have no idea. Things start winding down after this.”
“The season ends at the end of May or in June?” He scratched the back of his head, suddenly nervous. “I’m afraid I’m ignorant of such things. I rarely attend social events. I only went to two last year.”
“I didn’t know you were here at that time,” she said. “Many are under the impression that you recently arrived.”
He scanned the ballroom. “Let them think it. I don’t care for these events anyway.”
“I like them,” she admitted. “This is my first time to the Millers’ ball. The only reason I’m here is because …” She snapped her mouth shut.
“Mr. Petite?”
She nodded as her cheeks went pink.
“Where are your parents?” He asked changing the subject.
“I’m afraid they’re not here. We are not, how shall I say … smart enough for this particular function.”
His jaw went slack. “What?” He looked her up and down. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
She gave him a light shrug. “Balls and parties during the season are attended by most of the same people. Except of course for something like this. To receive an invitation is an honor. As to the other events, things don’t get exciting unless new people attend or there’s some scandal.”
He eyed her. It wasn’t a straight answer. Was her family not good enough for the Millers? “Somehow I don’t see myself causing a stir.”
She giggled. “I’m talking about someone like Miss Chambers. This is her first season which means she’s quite available. She’s also quite rich.”
Abijah glanced around and pondered the etiquette of such matters. Miss Clemmons spoke so candidly. But then, that’s one of the things he liked about her. “So she’s the belle of the ball?”
“Quite. I’m sure by the end of the evening she’ll have a bevy of men following her. That’s what usually happens during a woman’s first season.”
He smiled. “Forgive me for asking but, was that how it was for you?”
She sighed and took a sip of her punch. “To be honest, yes. I did have a number of suitors at first. But I was too picky. I turned down each and every one. I’m afraid my days are, shall we say, numbered?”
“Miss Clemmons, you mustn’t talk about yourself like that. It’s not good for you.”
She chuckled. “Is that your diagnosis, Doctor?”
“That’s common knowledge,” he said gently. “Besides, one never knows whose eye you’ll catch. Especially at an affair such as this one.”
She surveyed the groups of people conversing around them, the dancing at the other end of the ballroom, the matrons off to one corner. A group of wallflowers giggled in another. “True, there are a lot of people here that I’m not acquainted with. But I don’t have to be. I’ve accepted my lot, Mr. Waller.” She gave him a bright smile. “Or should I say, Doctor?”
He wasn’t sure if the conversation was making her uncomfortable or not. Best to change the subject again. “Funny you should say that. My cousin has started referring to me as Doc.”
“Doc?” She bit her lower lip and cocked her head. “You know what? I think it suits you.”
“You do?” He smiled. “I admit I rather like the nickname.”
“Well then, Doc, what is your diagnosis?”
He smiled, unable to help himself. “Of what?”
She waved at the people around them. “All of this. There’s a lot of money on that dance floor. More than I will ever see.” She looked at him, her face red. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
“It’s quite all right. Social classes are a part of life. Always have been and I don’t see them disappearing anytime soon.” He took in the opulence of the room. This was the grandest he had ever seen. “Perhaps one day things will even out among men. Until then, the world has the rich and the poor, with very little in between.” He studied her a moment his eyes roaming over her beautiful dress.
“You’re wondering where I fall on that scale, aren’t you?” she asked softly.
“I admit, I am curious,” he confessed.
“I’m here at Mr. Petite’s invitation, and that’s the only reason.”
“Then I shouldn’t take up any more of your time. I’m sure you’d like to spend you evening with him.” He gave her a slight bow.
She laughed. “On the contrary, Doc, Mr. Petite is dancing with Elizabeth Chambers. I’m not likely to see him anytime soon.”
Abijah’s heart skipped a beat. Had Petite abandoned her? Hmm, he did note a gleam in the man’s eyes whenever he looked at Miss Chambers during their time at the Olson’s. “Well then,” he said and gave her another bow. “Would you do me the honor of this dance, Miss Clemmons?”
She went still, eyes wide, as if his question shocked her. Was she opposed to dancing with someone of his class? He held his breath and waited.
After a moment, a slow smiled curved her mouth. “Why, Mr. Waller.” Her smile broadened. “Doc, I’d love to.”
Abijah’s heart leapt in his chest. He offered her his arm and together, they made their way to the dancing.
By the time they reached the dance floor, the music stopped. People dispersed to either side, women fanning themselves as men talked and laughed. Everyone was having a good time. Abijah found he wanted to have a good time too, but with Miss Clemmons. He was comfortable around her and she was easy to talk to. She was also intelligent, down-to-earth, and didn’t look down on him as others did.
The music started and people began to form lines for “The Hole in the Wall.” It was a country-dance, one he was familiar with. “Come, Miss Clemmons, let’s show them what we can do.”
She smiled, squeezed his arm with her own – a bold move by any standard – and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.
Sarah felt her cheeks grow hot as she and Doc took up their positions for “The Hole in the Wall.” She shouldn’t have squeezed his arm like that. She hardly knew him. Worse, she did it without thinking and with no reservation. She hoped he didn’t think ill of her or that she was a loose woman. But, where he came from, a simple gesture like that between friends might be normal. But how was she to know? She’d never been to a country-dance in her life. For Heaven’s sake, she’d hardly been to the country. Maybe that’s why she so yearned for it.
The dance began, and she moved with practice precision. To her surprise, so did Doc. The thought pleased her. What did you expect? Her mind chided. That he couldn’t dance? She shook the thought off. If she didn’t get a hold of herself, she was liable to trip and fall on her face. Like she did her first season …
She could still hear the laughter. It was the beginning of the end for her. She didn’t want to repeat it.
Sarah caught sight of Oswald and Elizabeth at the opposite end of the long line of dancers. She smiled. Elizabeth looked like she was walking on air. Should she warn her? Or let nature take its course? She wasn’t sure what to do. Maybe Elizabeth would be good for Oswald, who knew?
The dance ended, and she curtsied to her partner. Doc Waller bowed in return. “Thank you, Miss Clemmons. That was lovely.”
She gave him a shy smile. “It was,
wasn’t it?”
“You act as if you’re surprised,” he stated. “I can dance.”
She felt her cheeks grow hot again. “I didn’t doubt you could.”
He watched the retreating couples a moment before his eyes met hers. “Would you do me the honor of another dance this evening?”
It wasn’t a bold thing to ask, but he was asking sooner than most. “It would be my pleasure, Doc.” She giggled and winked at him.
To her delight, he blushed. “I look forward to it. Would you like more punch? I don’t know about you, but I’m thirsty again.”
“So am I,” she said as her stomach fluttered. For the first time in a very long time, she was attracted to someone. Not the, “I think he’s a handsome man,” sort of attraction. But the kind that came along when you saw the person’s mind, heart and soul. She could tell Doctor Abijah Waller was a smart yet simple man. He didn’t need to have the best of everything, even if he did have the money. And he was wise. She liked that. Better yet, he wasn’t stuffy or arrogant like Oswald or other men of his class. No, Doc Waller was someone she could sit down and talk with about all sorts of things. Whatever came to mind, and for a very long time.
She followed him to the refreshment table drawing looks from several older couples. All of which knew her parents. Great. She hoped none of them spoke to her mother tomorrow. The last thing she needed was for one of them to spout off that she’d been dancing with someone other than Oswald or anyone else from his class.
“Here you are,” Doc said and handed her a glass of punch.
She took it, a wide smile on her face. She liked thinking of him as “Doc” and no other name. It was like having her own special name for him. Something no one else had. With the exception of his cousin, Ned of course.
“Where do you think your Mr. Petite has got to?” Doc asked.
Sarah glanced around. Oswald was nowhere in sight. Neither was Elizabeth for that matter. A tiny gasp escaped her. Where could they be?