Chapter Four
Six months later.
With intense attentiveness, Elizabeth Dawson watched her parent's stilted efforts at conversation with the stiff gentleman who'd come to ask permission to court her. She studied Melvin Tuttle, attempting to see him in the role of her husband, but failed.
With long lean legs he looked out of place in the dainty chair in their front parlor. She had to admit, although he was not handsome, he did have a pleasant face. Dressed in perfectly pressed attire that told of his high station in society, he flicked at an invisible piece of lint on his arm. His light brown hair looked freshly cut and combed precisely in place. With a slight nod, he seemed to struggle to smile at something her mother said.
Yes, he was not a handsome man and unfortunately at the moment even less as he was flushed, with a light sheen of perspiration that did not suit him in the least.
His eyes slid to her and she could not keep from blushing when they lighted on her décolletage. At least he was a warm blooded male and for some reason that knowledge gave her comfort. She preferred to marry someone who was attracted to her and didn't just see her as a necessary element for society's sake. Her friend Susan, married a few months, complained at the lack of attention from her groom, stating he seemed to prefer the company of his male friends to hers. Her parents were no different, rarely spending time together outside of social functions.
"Darling, why don't you show Melvin the garden," her mother brought her attention back. "The roses have bloomed with unexpected colors," she continued to Melvin, who'd yet to stop staring at her chest.
They walked outside as she accepted his arm. He was just a bit taller than her, but she still had to tilt her chin up to look at him. And he had a perfect vantage point of her cleavage, given he spoke directly to it, rarely meeting her eyes. "I'd like to get to know you better, Elizabeth. Although we've only met a few times, I find you more than suitable. With your stunning brilliant green eyes and straight patrician nose, I do believe you to be the most beautiful woman in this city. I would feel privileged if you accept to accompany me to the ball next Saturday."
The words did little to excite her, nevertheless she smiled. "Of course, that would be lovely." His descriptions of her features made her feel more like a prize horse than a beautiful woman. "How often do you like to attend these things?"
"Things?" He frowned at her choice of words and she schooled her expression from a frown to neutral.
"What I mean is do you like to socialize often?"
"Yes of course, its necessary for my business. I hope to entertain often, once I marry."
"Oh." Was the only response she could form.
Polite Virginia society bored her with their stilted conversations of weather and plants and their gatherings more geared to finding fodder for gossip than for fellowship.
Her parents were eager for her to marry and begin the life of a society wife. And suffering a lack of suitors in her parent’s estimation, meant she had little choice but to accept whoever came to call on her, as long as they were of the same social standing, of course.
Her mother had admonished her repeatedly. "It's your preference to reading and reserve that keep gentlemen from you. Refusing to dance at the last two balls did not help either." How, she hated dances, meaningless chatter or anything that resembled the virtues of being a 'good socialite'. In her estimation, it was all a big pretense.
Melvin stopped next to an archway over which vine roses crawled, their sweet fragrance lingering around them. Her steps faltered at his abrupt stop and he wrapped his arm around her waist to ensure she did not fall. Elizabeth waited for him to release her, but he did not remove his arms from her body. When she lifted her face to question him, his mouth covered hers.
The kiss, which would indeed be memorable as her first, was not what she expected. His lips pressed against hers, none too gently. When he smashed her bosom to his chest while his other hand grabbed her bottom pulling her to his hardening groin, Elizabeth gasped into his mouth. She pushed at his chest attempting for space between them but failed, instead Melvin slid his tongue into her mouth. Unsure of what to do, she kept it open and fought the urge to gag.
Finally he began to pant and broke the kiss. Forgetting propriety, she slumped against him grateful it ended. "I should return you inside. I find you too irresistible to be alone with for long." Melvin's breathless words sank in and she jumped back.
"Of course." Elizabeth bit back the urge to laugh at his reddened face and dazed expression. Good lord, was this man her future husband? Would he look this way every time they kissed?
Thankfully Melvin excused himself after walking her inside, their brief interlude ended.
Her mother's eyes twinkled when Elizabeth stood at the parlor window and watched Melvin ride away in his pristine carriage. "He's a nice enough young man, don't you think, Elizabeth?"
"I suppose," she replied, still at the window. "Yet I'm not sure I see myself as his wife."
"Give it time, darling." Her mother returned to her stitching. "You're not getting any younger and your prospects are few." More like none, but Elizabeth remained quiet.
After dinner she retired to her bedroom and stared at the ceiling replaying Melvin Tuttle's kiss. She shuddered at the thought of repeating it over and again with him. Maybe with time and practice, kissing him would get better.
She sighed against her pillow and pictured the husband of her dreams. The image of a tall stranger with blue eyes and broad shoulders formed, and Elizabeth wished with all her heart she could reach him, ask him to come for her, to take her away before she entered into a life that made her ill at the thought. A future as Melvin Tuttle's wife.
"You're awfully quiet Elizabeth," her mother remarked over the rim of her teacup, the next morning. "I expected a brighter girl after yesterday's events." Her eyes twinkled with mischief. "I spied at you and Melvin from the window. He kissed you."
"Mother!" Elizabeth couldn't help but blush at the idea of her mother watching Melvin's attempt at amorousness. "Whatever possessed you to do that?"
Her mother shrugged and slid her gaze towards the doorway, probably to ensure her husband did not overhear. "Melvin seemed somewhat...detached when in our presence. I want you to marry, of course, but at the same time not suffer from lack of attention from your husband."
Elizabeth could not stop the shiver at the thought of kissing Melvin again. She stopped her mind from delving further toward the consideration of marital relations with him. "I'm sure he'll be an attentive partner. But Mother, aren't we rushing things a bit?"
"No I don't. He asked your father to court you with intentions of marriage. He is very well connected in Virginia society, Elizabeth, his family of very good standing."
This was when she grew impatient with her mother. No matter the levity of the previous moment, her mother was a socialite through and through, preferring teas and social gatherings to anything else. How different they were.
She studied her breakfast and sighed. "I am not sure I will be a suitable partner for him Mother. You know more than anyone that my social skills are not as they should be. I detest sitting about talking of trivial matters with women who are more worried about their new gowns than what President Tyler is doing about the annexation of Texas."
Her mother's eyes widened. "Oh Elizabeth, for goodness sakes, leave such talk to the men, such worries are not for us." She proceeded to smile brightly when her father joined them. "Darling, we were just discussing Melvin's call yesterday."
Her father's eyes lit on her mother only a moment, there was no indication of caring, only a staunch nod. He didn't respond right away, instead leaned back and waited for their maid to pour his coffee.
Her father looked to Elizabeth with little warmth and she wondered if Melvin would be as such with her.
"Elizabeth, ensure you take great care not to make a spectacle of yourself at the dance. Spend time with your mother going over whatever it is you women do to prepare for social ev
ents."
Before she could reply, her mother stopped her with a hand over hers and spoke to her husband, a smile so wide plastered on her face, Elizabeth wondered if her cheeks hurt. "Of course, dear, don't you worry about a thing. Elizabeth will stand out at the ball. Her manners have improved greatly as of late. I'm sure you've noticed. Why just yesterday, at the afternoon tea with Minerva Watson, it was mentioned..."
"Don't bore me with trivial details, Gertrude." The conversation was over. Elizabeth relaxed and drank her tea with care as not to make any noise. She placed the cup on a delicate doily and looked to her now cold breakfast. When her father lifted a brow at her, she picked up her fork, selected a small morsel and took a dainty bite. She smiled at him but his attention was back to the newspaper in his hand.
That night, she sat by the fireplace reading and was jolted from the pages by her father's raised voice. "Gertrude, stop with the ramblings. You know I cannot abide all your constant useless chatter. If you have something to tell me, then get to the point."
He spent the evenings, when home, in his study after dinner, drinking brandy while going over the ledgers. He hated to be disturbed. Elizabeth wondered why her mother interrupted this night.
"I'm sorry, dear." Her mother’s whiny voice was irritating. "But today, the chimneysweep said we must see about repairs, and I wasn't sure what to tell him.”
"I will speak to him tomorrow," her father gritted in response dismissing her with his curt tone.
Elizabeth vowed never to allow Melvin to speak to her in such a manner.
Something happened. Elizabeth woke with a start.
Crackling sounds and a horrible smell caused her throat, nose, and chest to burn. She sat up in the bed and tears streamed from her eyes when she attempted to look around in the darkness. In a daze she realized her room was filling with smoke. Her house was on fire.
"Mother! Father!" Coughing too hard to call out again, she bent over and stumbled away from the bed.
Following the light from the bright moon through the window, she rushed to open the door, only to fall back at the searing heat. “Mother! Father! Where are you?” Elizabeth tried in vain to see her parent’s bedroom door at the end of the hall.
She readied to dart down the corridor when her mother’s face appeared a few yards away between flames. “Mama!”
“Elizabeth, stay in your room. I’m coming.”
Her father stood in his robe at the open master suite door. “Gertrude, it’s too dangerous. I need you to remain here with me.” He rushed toward her mother and grabbed her wrist.
Her mother yanked from his grip and flattened to the wall, scooting closer to Elizabeth. “In twenty five years, you’ve given me one good thing and I’ll be damned if I choose you over her.”
A loud creak overhead grabbed all eyes, one set in a bedroom and two in the hall. Directly over the railing, an engulfed roof timber fell through the ceiling, smashing into the balcony and ripping the floor from its secured base. Her mother and father disappeared into the first floor inferno.