Page 29 of Fragile Wicked Things

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."

Edward quickened to leave me, making his way through the crowd, nodding to several acquaintances, never stopping to speak to anyone, but then the dull Mr. Dowd and his equally dull daughter, Sara, stopped him and held him hostage.

Edward was a true gentleman, polite in how he spoke to them, and it wasn't long before the father thought of an excuse to leave the two alone.

Sara was not pretty or intelligent and had no friends in that society, as far as I could tell.

When I think of it, Sara was shunned by our group, and I was equally guilty of the despicable manner in which we treated her.

Yet, Edward spoke to her as if enraptured, her face flushing each time he uttered something.

I'm certain he complimented her dress and hair, not to make fun or to be mean.

Quite the contrary. What he did was something that had always escaped me up to that moment, the act of benevolence—he performed a small act of kindness towards her.

Then, he offered her his hand and led her to the dance floor.

At that moment, I noticed a stranger with a handsome face staring at me, and when I caught him in the act, he didn't look away from embarrassment; instead, he smiled.

I didn't smile back and turned away, pretending to be flabbergasted by his arrogance, remembering the advice from a friend that a proper lady should not engage in destructive behavior.

And what type of bad behavior was he engaging in?

Flirtation was genuinely inappropriate unless properly introduced.

Yet, I couldn't help myself and glanced over in his general direction, taking in the sights and sounds around him—a young lady in a pink and white striped gown speaking to a girl no older than fourteen, a man with a bushy mustache which kept dipping into his drink, the roar of laughter that came from a group of men.

In a very casual manner, I would glance his way.

His blonde hair was short and neat, and I hoped to make out the color of his eyes, but I couldn't do so at such a distance.

He looked to be of a slight build, shorter than Edward, but then again, most men were.

He came towards me! I looked about myself, wondering where to turn and whom to speak to. I stood up. Sat back down. Up again, then I took one step forward and walked straight into him.

"Excuse me," he said. He spoke in a southern accent that sounded polite despite being forward. "I couldn't help but notice your father left you unattended."

"He's not my father," I blurted out.

"Brother then?" he said. "Or am I about to hear the unfortunate news that he's your husband?"

"Husband!" I laughed. "He is… was … my guardian."

"Well, I noticed you sitting alone, and a pretty girl like you should be on the dance floor. May I have this dance, Mademoiselle?"

"You speak French?"

" Un petit peu ," he said, his southern accent slipping in.

He held out his hand, and I took it, never once taking my eyes off him.

Blue. His eyes were a beautiful light blue.

While we danced, I felt his frame, strong yet graceful, his voice soft-spoken yet direct with his words.

He spun me around, and I laughed out loud, too loud.

When I nearly fell back, he grabbed me, holding me, his hands wound tight around my waist. It was such intimacy with a man who hadn't yet given me his name.

"James Kilbarry, III, of the Carolina Kilbarrys. I'm sure you've heard of us," he said.

"Oh, yes." Which was the truth. I had heard of the Kilbarry name, but they only had daughters if memory served me correctly.

"My cousins," James explained. "Let's not speak more of our families. I'd like to know you, Miss Catherine Adele Cousins."

"How do you know my name?" I asked.

He laughed at my naivety. "You were introduced at the beginning of the evening."

I looked down, embarrassed by my silliness, lost my footing, and fell into his arms. However, he remained focused and led while I followed; dancing with him was effortless.

"Well, this evening has greatly improved. I promised myself from the moment you entered that I would have a dance with you, even if I had to steal one."

"A thief, Mr. Kilbarry, will not do."

"What will you have me be, Miss Cousins? Remain as an admirer from afar, when I hope to be much more. A suitor, perhaps?"

"Perhaps. As you know, Mr. Kilbarry, we need a proper introduction as is customary..."

"Let's defy custom. You blush at the notion of doing something that differs from the norm." James leaned in close, his musky scent filling my nostrils. I was insatiable. I tilted my head, exposing my neck, a move I had read about in a love story. His breath tickled my neck as he spoke.

"Meet me tomorrow evening at eight at the St. Louis Cemetery. Look for Boré."

The dance ended. James bowed and disappeared without an answer, abandoning me in the middle of the dance floor.

What a sight I was! A forlorn young girl peering over the heads of the dancers as they paired up for the next dance, spinning around me.

I took a step to escape the dance floor but was cut off by a man twirling a woman.

I took another step in the opposite direction and was met with more of the same.

Suddenly, I became trapped in a swirling sea of white, black, yellow, and purple, unable to find my way to safety or find James.

I turned, and there stood Edward, a look of displeasure on his face, his lips taut.

"It's late," he said. We're leaving." His tone was rather severe, and I didn't wish to risk upsetting him further.

With our things gathered, Edward and I waited by the front door for our carriage. Never before that night had we had such long stretches of silence.

"Edward!" a man said as he passed. "I must say, you are aging at an alarmingly slower rate than the rest of us! What is your secret?"

Edward shook the man's outstretched hand. "Malcolm, my secret is quite embarrassing and no different from what the women do." He leaned in and whispered, "A little bit of honey in the bath water."

Malcolm's eyes widened in bewilderment. "That's it? I thought it would be something quite salacious, like selling your soul to a she-devil."

He laughed the way old men his age snigger at their own words, thinking themselves witty, sounding off in a loud chuckle.

Malcolm was still laughing when we left him to go home.

The ride back was equally awkward, and it became apparent what had caused the anger within Edward. He disapproved of James Kilbarry.

"Of the Carolina Kilbarrys? They have daughters," he said.

"Yes, he is their cousin."

"I know of only one outside of South Carolina. A nasty sort who gambled away the family fortune, wasting it on spirits and women. He had a son."

"I'm sure you speak of another Kilbarry."

"I saw you, watched the way you looked at him. It is natural that you should behave in such a manner when a gentleman shows interest, but you mustn't be so public about it. It is not appropriate until you are ready to wed..."

"But I am ready. You always spoke of it."

"That was before."

"Before what?" I reached across for his hand.

"Before…" His voice faltered and softened, and the words came out slow and calculated. "You've grown into a beautiful young woman, Catherine. I'm not ready to have you leave me, not yet, not now when I need you the most. I wasn’t the man I wished to be all the years you were gone. I’m afraid he’ll return. It’s you that impedes the darkness. "

"You speak of nonsense," I assured him. "Say you’ll be pleased when I wed."

He withdrew himself from my grasp but kept his black eyes on me. He replied with such wickedness, "I shall wish for blindness."