Moonlight Wishes In Time (17 page)

“There,
miss. Now, it wants only a headdress. Perhaps some feathers?”

Mattie scrunched her face and shook her head.

“No feathers! Oh, no, not for me,” she said emphatically. “I don’t have to wear anything in my hair, do I?” She gave Jane a pleading look over her shoulder.

Jane allowed herself a small
, patient heave of her chest, which could be construed as a sigh, and to Mattie’s dismay, she nodded in the affirmative.

“Yes,
miss, you do. But I think we might make do with some ribbons. I will just run to Miss Sinclair’s room and ask her maid for a shawl and some ribbons…and some slippers.” Jane’s idea of “running” was to bob a curtsey and walk with purpose to the door, slipping through it and closing it quietly behind her.

Mattie set her elbows on the dressing table and stared at herself, wishing she at least had some lipstick—never mind mascara, eye shadow and foundation—to
help brighten her face. Her pale features hardly did justice to the dazzling rose of the dress. She rose restlessly.

A
knock on the door startled her, and thinking it was Jane, she rose to open the door.

William stood on the
other side, resplendent in formal dress, and looking much more masculine than she would have thought in the golden satin knee-length breeches, stockings and black-ribboned shoes of the time. His dark blue velvet coat was cut to perfection, emphasizing his impressive broad shoulders and narrow waist.

He stared at her with his mouth half open
—not something she was used to seeing from the confident man.

“I’m not ready yet,” she said hurriedly, throwing a look down the hall toward Sylvie’s room
. She straightened and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I don’t have any shoes on…or a shawl.”

William seemed to recover himself, though the color in his cheekbones was high
. He looked down at her feet.

“Will you be wearing shoes this evening, Miss Crockwell
? Not having had the good fortune to meet many Americans—and certainly none from the twenty-first century—I am unclear as to whether shoes are considered a necessary article of clothing.”

Mattie narrowed her eyes and stared at him as his eyes traveled back up to her face, pausing momentarily on her tightly crossed arms
.

“Are you finished
?” She tapped one bare foot.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Checking me out? Are you done?”

William’s face flamed.

“I have no earthly idea what that means, Miss Crockwell, but it seems to have offended you.” He dipped his head. “And for that, I apologize.” He raised his eyes to her face again, and Mattie saw not one hint of remorse in his sparkling dark brown eyes. Nor did it appear as if he failed to understand her meaning.

Under her crossed arms, she managed to tug at the top of her bodice once again, and William’s eyes dropped to the movement
. His lips twitched.

“Perhaps I might fetch you a shawl?”

Mattie blushed. How had he managed to see such a slight movement, she wondered?

“Jane has gone to get me one, and here she is,” Mattie announced with relief as Jane came out of Sylvie’s room, followed by a fully dressed Sylvie, stunning in a white satin gown that draped about her body in the manner of
a statue of a Grecian goddess.

Jane dropped a curtsey in William’s direction and stepped past Mattie to enter the room
.

William pulled his watch from his vest and consulted it.

“Oh, do not be so stuffy, William,” Sylvie said as she sailed past him to enter Mattie’s room. “Jane assures me that Mattie will be ready within minutes.” She surveyed Mattie with a smile of pride. “She looks breathtaking, does she not, William?”

“And very comfortable, I might add,” William said with a solemn face which barely concealed his amusement
. Sylvie followed his eyes to Mattie’s bare toes and laughed.

“Well, William, if you will give us just a few more minutes, Mattie can don her slippers, and we will be ready to take your arm
. Mother has gone downstairs to speak with Mr. Smythe to ensure that all is ready.”

William bowed formally.

“I await your pleasure,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes, which Mattie didn’t miss as Sylvie closed the door.

Jane pulled her hastily into one of the chairs and slipped the little satin shoes over her feet
. She handed Mattie a paisley shawl in hues of gold and rose.

“You look wonderful, Mattie, as if you were born to this era,” Sylvie sighed
. “That dress is exquisite on you and suits you much more than it would have me.”

Jane silently gave Mattie’s hand a tug and pulled her to her feet, guiding her to the small bench in front of the dressing table again
. She began to weave bright satin ribbons the color of the dress throughout Mattie’s hair while Mattie clutched her shawl.

“Would have?” Mattie
asked. “Are you saying you haven’t worn this dress before?”

Sylvie was twirling about in the middle of the room as she waited for Mattie
. She paused.

“No, I have many dresses I have not yet worn
. I had my first season in London last winter, and Mother bought me more dresses than I could ever hope to wear.”

She approached the bench and stood next to Jane, watching her dress Mattie’s hair.

“Mother would be most pleased if she could see me married alongside William.” She smiled. “You would think she must be planning to pack her bags and sail off to France or some such thing once she has seen her children settled.”

Mattie laughed.

“How funny! That is exactly what our senior citizens do.” She saw Sylvie’s eyes widen. “Not that I’m saying your mother is a senior citizen—far from it—but once children leave the home, people in my time often move to warmer climates…especially Florida.”

Sylvie chuckled
. “Florida. I think this must be part of the Spanish colonies.” She nodded. “My mother would dearly appreciate a small cottage somewhere on the Spanish Mediterranean. My parents traveled extensively when my father lived.”

Mattie nodded, wondering exactly w
hat Florida’s status was in 1825. How she longed for a good internet service with a decent search engine.

“There,
miss,” Jane said as she gave Mattie’s hair one final pat. Mattie stared at the elegant hairdo and sighed, wishing she had a camera. Her hair looked gorgeous, even if she did say so herself. Parted in the middle, Jane had managed to make little ringlets out of what was normally nothing more than a natural wave. Glimpses of satin rose peeped out from the curls as the ribbon wound its way around her head and through the chignon.

“Thank you, Jane, it looks beautiful
.” Mattie rose, clutching her shawl to her chest.

“You have outdone yo
urself, Jane.” Sylvie beamed. Jane bobbed one of her ubiquitous curtseys and moved across the room to pick up the discarded clothing from the chair.

“Mattie, you cannot clasp your shawl so
.” Sylvie gave a short laugh. “Let me show you how it is draped thus.” Sylvie demonstrated how she carried her own lovely periwinkle blue silk shawl lightly about her elbows as an accessory.

“Yes, but Sylvie, I’m not wearing this shawl because it’s pretty
.” Mattie saw Jane’s shoulders shake ever so slightly out of the corner of her eye as she bent over the clothing. So Jane could laugh.

“I’m wearing it to cover us this
…cleavage,” Mattie said brazenly, watching Jane’s shoulders shake as if she were about to erupt into hysterics.

Sylvie laughed outright.

“Oh, Mattie, you say the most droll things. Cleavage indeed,” she repeated as she draped the shawl above Mattie’s elbows. “If you must refer to that area of your figure, we call it a décolletage.”

Jane coughed and turned to face them, sporting a bright red face and suspiciously shiny eyes
. She held the discarded clothing.

“If that will be all,
miss, I will just take these downstairs to have them cleaned.” She curtsied and fled the room, though with Jane, that meant walked swiftly. As she pulled the door open, William could be seen leaning on the banister of the staircase overlooking the floor below. He turned as Jane exited the room and came toward the open door.

“Come, Mattie, we have kept my brother waiting long enough
,” Sylvie said as she took Mattie’s free hand and pulled her toward the door. Mattie’s other hand was taken up with holding one end of her shawl over her chest in what she hoped looked like a natural posture. She wasn’t surprised at the next comment.

“Mattie, release the shawl,” Sylvie whispered as they moved toward William.

Mattie thought the handsome William might see her heart pounding against the skin of her “décolletage,” just about where her collar line ended. Oh, for some double-sided sticky tape—the favorite accessory for Hollywood award show ensembles.

“Miss Crockwell must do as she wishes,” William said in an even voice, though Mattie could swear one corner of his mouth turned up for an instant
. “No doubt, she will let loose of her shawl when she finds it difficult to dance or dine with both hands so occupied.”

“William!” Sylvie scolded as she smacked her brother with her fan in a most unladylike gesture that Mattie envied
. “Do not speak to Miss Crockwell so. Apologize,” she demanded.

William inclined his head regally
.

“Please forgive me, Miss Crockwell, yet once again
. You must think me quite boorish,” he murmured as he extended his arms.

Sylvie took his right arm and Mattie slipped her hand into the crook of his left arm, requiring her to switch hands as she struggled to keep the shawl “casually” across her chest
.

They descended the carpeted stairs to the hallway below
, where an elderly man in a dark cutaway jacket and black breeches above white stockings and black boots bowed to them. Lined up behind him were several footmen, John among them.

“Mr. Smythe
. Where is our mother?” Sylvie asked as they reached the bottom floor.

“She is in the kitchen and should return directly,” Mr. Smythe answered as he
consulted his watch. “I hear the sound of a carriage arriving. It is time.”

Mattie’s stomach rolled over
. Why, oh, why couldn’t she just wait up in her room until everyone had arrived and then slip unnoticed into the throng of people? As it was, the first few guests would wonder who the strange woman was, especially if she didn’t manage to pull her arm out from William’s elbow. However, her hand seemed to be locked against the side of his ribs, and he didn’t appear to have any intention of loosening his grasp. She knew, because she’d already nonchalantly tried to pull away once or twice.

She found herself being
guided toward a set of large, gold-toned ornate double doors leading off from the foyer. John sprang forward to push open the doors, and William paused just outside. Sylvie released his arm and took up a position on his right, and Mattie had no choice but to stand next to him.

“William!” she whispered
. “Is this a…a receiving line? Don’t make me stand in a receiving line, for goodness’ sake! Everyone is going to wonder who I am!” She tried pulling her hand from his arm again, but he placed his free hand over her cold one. His hand was warm, and she almost felt reassured by his touch…almost.

“Have courage, Miss Crockwell
.” He kept his voice low as he bent his head to hers. “It is customary for visiting family members to receive our guests along with the family. And we are planning on introducing you as a distant cousin from America, are we not?”

Mattie had forgotten about the distant cousin thing
. She supposed he was right. At the moment, it hardly seemed to matter as she was completely distracted by his close proximity and the feel of his strong hand over hers. She tugged at her hand.

“Well, you don’t need to keep my hand anymore, do you
? People will definitely notice that!” she whispered as she forced herself to meet his eyes.

“You are right, Miss Crockwell
. Your hand under my arm will most certainly be noticed, since you would be considered an eligible young woman and I am closely watched to see if I will pick a bride.” He maintained a grave face, but his lips twitched. “I choose to hold your hand because it pleases me,” he added as he looked down at her.

“William
!” Mrs. Sinclair approached in a swish of lavender silk and gauze with a hint of a frown around her lips. “Miss Crockwell will need her hand to greet our guests, who enter as we speak.” She came to stand before William and glanced toward the door, which was opening to admit the first guests.

Mattie’s face flamed and she pulled her hand, but William refused to let go, though he held her carefully.

“In good time, Mother. Miss Crockwell is understandably nervous, and I seek only to reassure her that she is among friends…and family,” he said as he squared off with his mother.