Page 47 of Fragile Wicked Things
Edward stuttered "no" once he could speak and cleared his throat. "You look..."
"Beautiful?"
"Yes. Beautiful," he said. "If the boys don’t behave?—"
"They are men now. Promise me you won’t behave like a brute."
"We shall see. You’ve grown into…"
“A young woman. Yes, I know. Now, give me your hand, you silly goose." I giggled.
Edward composed himself, straightened at attention, and lifted his hand to take mine. He then escorted me down the last step, his thumb caressing the top of my gloved fingers.
The ride into the city was unusual; every subject I brought up received a silent nod, and I presumed he was preoccupied with whatever had delayed his return. By the time our carriage pulled onto the street of the estate that hosted the Grand Ball, I could see it already in full swing. People gathered on the concrete steps leading to the front entrance: girls in white dresses, boys in black tuxedos, a slew of mothers in colorful ball gowns and uptight fathers in starched shirts and coattails. A cacophony of laughter and music could be heard from outside, and I was so excited to go in that I nearly jumped out of the carriage without waiting for Edward's help.
The receiving line wasn't very long and Mrs. Christopher stood there, hurriedly getting us in order, calling out our names according to a list she held. I stood in the middle of some girls I knew, giggling often, and then reminded myself that a mature woman didn't behave that way, and I quieted down. I held hands with the girls on either side of me, and each time the name of another girl was called, we squeezed tighter, smiling at the young ladies as they were whisked away. Somehow, a mistake had been made in the order of the line, and all the girls, including the one behind me, had been called, leaving me to stand alone. The flash from a camera blinded me, and I turned away. The delay killed me. I was so nervous I thought I'd faint in front of all of New Orleans, but then I heard my name called. The blindness dissipated, and when I looked up again, Edward stood with his hand held out to guide me along the edge of the dance floor. He stopped when he presented me to my escort, Charlie.
I remembered to curtsy before Charlie carried me away, and instead of complimenting me, he told me I should remember to call him Charles now that he's a man—twenty and already pompous like his father. I liked him better when he was quiet. What gall he had, insisting that he alone should fill up my dance card, but I pshawed, reminding him that we were not betrothed. The first two dances were reserved for him, and as he clumsily moved me about the dance floor, I spotted Edward. While he stared at me, he didn't notice all the eligible ladies eyeing him. Charlie, sorry, Charles swung me past Edward, and I insisted the next dance belonged to my guardian. At first, Charles was reluctant but then acquiesced and held my hand out to Edward, bowing like a proper gentleman. I giggled at his embarrassing performance once in Edward's arms and out of hearing range from Charles.
"Did you notice, Mr. Rochester, that several ladies in good standing are trying to gain your attention, yet you do not ask them to dance?"
"They care not for my ugly face but my pocketbook, Miss Cousins. You should learn this about human nature. Greed is nasty business," said Edward.
"Nonsense. I find you extremely handsome, Mr. Rochester."
"Alas, this is not my true face."
"You are silly sometimes. Swing me faster like you did when I was a little girl."
"There are too many on the dance floor."
"Outside then."
"You'll freeze."
"Do as I say, or I shall have a terrible time from here on end."
We snuck out to the patio, where the beat of the music could be heard. Edward spun me until I felt as though I was free-falling, but he couldn't possibly swing me at such a speed. Yet that is what it felt like—this incredible sensation of a force lifting me through the air, carrying me on the wind. My giggles seemed far off, removed from me in this dizzying dance that made my stomach sicken, the sensation no longer pleasurable.
"Stop!" I said.
We stopped. Edward held me against him, my chest heaving against his unaffected by the exertion. He held me tight, and as I stared into his eyes, I noticed they weren't as dark as they used to be. His hair was no longer the color of a raven but somewhat lighter.
"I’d forgotten what pleasure you bring into my life, how you keep me from the darkness. I’ve not been myself with you away," Edward said. He drew his face to me, his lips close to mine, and then he stopped.
I shivered and pulled away.
Edward let go. "You're cold. I should bring you back in before you catch your death."
"And you, yours," I said.
"Death has already grappled with me. A great conqueror."
Over the years, I had noted some odd statements he had made that left me incapable of responding. This was no different. Edward led me back in, where I rested on a settee near the fire, my hands on my lap, and my body twisted at an angle away from Edward. At first, we were quiet, both affected by what had almost transpired between us. It was a moment that confounded me since I believed him about to... No, it was a mere figment of a young woman’s imagination, and I put it out of my mind.
"Shall I get you something to drink?" Edward said.
"Yes, thank you."
