“It’s not for sensitive ears,” Mrs.Mead replied.
“If you’re suggesting Flora’s the issue, we do have eyes. We saw her last night, and while snogging on the dance floor is not exactly the norm at a Workers’ Ball, we’re going to let it lie,” said Mama.
Papa cleared his throat. “Mrs.Mead, it is my understanding that ladies—much like gentlemen—are not supposed to kiss and tell.”
“It’s not that, not exactly,” said Mrs.Mead as her hands worried her apron strings. “It’s about Algernon Braun. Last night, I met a girl who knew him from college.”
My heart stopped. “She’s not his girlfriend, is she?” I asked.
“Definitely not,” said Mrs.Mead. “In fact, she was surprised to see that boy at the ball. She claims she had an experience with him that was…unpleasant.”
“Unpleasant how?” asked Mama as she sliced into her perfectly poached egg.
“She didn’t share the details,” said Mrs.Mead.
“Oh, come on now,” said Papa. “A handsome young lad like that can have any girl he pleases. He doesn’t need to force it, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“Was she the girl crying in the ladies’ room?” I asked.
“Aye, that’s the one,” said Mrs.Mead.
“Oh,” said Mama. “That unfortunate wretch. My goodness, Reginald, you should have seen how the girl was dressed. Her ‘gown’ didn’t even reach her knees. Mrs.Mead,” said Mama as she swiveled to face my nursemaid, “don’t you think girls like that are asking for trouble? Maybe she egged him on and then changed her tune at the last second?”
“Hear, hear,” said Papa as he drained his coffee.
“It’s not for me to say,” said Mrs.Mead. “What I do know is the shock of seeing Algernon undid that lass. And what she told me gave me pause. I thought you all should know. Flora, I heard you’re seeing Algernon on Saturday night.”
“I am,” I confirmed, unable to control the smile that overtook my face.
“Well done,” said Mama. “Be coy with the boy—inviting but not too much.”
Papa reached across the table to grab my hand. “There is nothing that would make me prouder than if my daughter was the missing link that forged a bond between our two families. Can you imagine? The Grays and Brauns united? We’d be an unstoppable force.”
“Low and slow,” said Mama. “The tortoise wins the race.”
“Am I the only one here with concerns?” Mrs.Mead asked, her eyes wide.
“If people acted upon every unconfirmed rumor about young men, the population would plummet,” said Papa.
“Anyhow, it’s not up to us. It’s up to Flora,” said Mama. “Flora, are you worried about Algernon?”
“Not in the least,” I replied, though something deep within me niggled.
“Good,” said Papa. “Then it’s settled.”
“Mrs.Mead,” said Mama, “after you clear our plates, please goupstairs and pick out some outfits for Flora’s big date on Saturday.” Mama then turned to me. “What do you say? Shall we have a think on outfits, darling?”
Darling. That’s what she said—to me. So starving was I for my mother’s affection that my eyes brimmed with tears.
“Dearest Mama,” I replied, “I would greatly appreciate your help.”
Mrs.Mead grabbed our plates. Then she turned her back on all of us and marched off to the kitchen.
—
It has always seemed to me that the good moments gallop apace, over too soon, whereas the dull ones extend into eternity. So it was that the Workers’ Ball passed in the blink of an eye and my wait for the Saturday after, when I would see Algernon again, seemed interminable. I swooned about the manor, indulging in girlish daydreams about my upcoming date and the many exciting nights ahead that would be steeped in the dreamy magic of new love and starlit romance, all under the approving gaze of my parents’ loving eyes.
On Monday morning, I trudged to class as usual, but very suddenly I lost interest in my studies. At long last I felt what so many girls my age had readily expressed in my presence, that school was tiresome, that it got in the way of what really mattered—thrilling romance and the stirrings of the heart.