Authors: Astrid Yrigollen
“Well never mind, I am sure that you will run in to her some time tonight.”
Mr. Lowood introduced me to several of his acquaintances, telling them I was his niece. After awhile all the new people I was meeting became a blur and I could hardly remember anyone’s name or face. At dinner, I was sat next to Dekker Peterson, a mischievous young man with blond hair that fell in to his green eyes. He seemed to have a scruffy look about him as though he needed a shave and haircut. I was surprised to find out that he was older than me by a few years. By his manner, I thought he was closer to fifteen. He spoke nonstop throughout the meal.
“Hallo there. You must be the new sensation everyone is positively squealing about.” He held out his hand to me over the soup.
“A pleasure to meet you.” I said ignoring his comment about being the new sensation. He shook my hand roughly and smiled impishly.
“I’m sure you know I am Sir Peterson’s son. I live here.” He said it with just a touch of arrogance as though I was one to be impressed by his grand house.
“No, I was not aware of that. My name is Claren.” I couldn’t bring myself to say Lowood after my name since it was not true.
“Yes, yes I know all that already. Who do you think switched the name cards so you could sit by me?” I looked at him feeling perplexed.
“It’s true. I saw you tonight as you entered with your Uncle and knew I had to get to know you. There were far too many people swarming about though to make that a possibility. So I quickly devised a plan! I snuck into the dining room like so,” he raised both his arms and pointed his hands down as if he were some sort of forest creature moving along sneakily, “then I found your dinner card and moved it next to mine.” I stared at him astonished. I had never met such a funny young man.
“If not, you would be sitting over there,” he pointed his breadstick to my left at a youth with bad acne and large teeth “next to old Horace Bitwater. He spits when he speaks to you. I saved you I did.” I felt a chuckle wanting to bubble forth from me.
“I don’t know what to say. If I say thank you then it seems as though I am being rude to Mr. Bitwater. If I say nothing to you then it seems as though I am disregarding your desire to speak to me.” He shoved the last spoonful of his soup in his mouth and squinted at me.
“What are you a saint or something? Never hurt anyone’s feelings in your life?” I was taken aback by his straightforward manner but at the same time I found him refreshing. I seriously pondered his question as the wait staff cleared my soup plate and brought me my next dish.
“You are a disappointment. I might as well as left you sitting next to Horace.” Dekker said suddenly.
“How have I disappointed you Mr. Peterson?” I said slightly offended.
“Call me Dekker, none of this Mr. Peterson business if you please. Well to start off, you are the prettiest girl here but you are as quiet as a church mouse, pardon the expression since the last time I stepped into a church was when I was christened as a baby, so I am not quite sure if churches are the same. They may be rocking and jumping places now a days.”
He flashed the impish smile at me once more. Even though he was rude in many ways I decided to play along with him. It couldn’t hurt and I liked the way he made me feel, lighthearted. Ever since my parents’ death I carried around this heavy stone in my breast where my heart used to be. I closed myself up because I never wanted to be vulnerable again. But tonight, for the first night in a long time, I felt like I wanted to laugh. I smiled back at him.
“I do better at first when you ask me questions. Remember I did not ask for you to move my dinner card by yours. You did that on your own accord.” He moved a lock of blond hair out of his eyes. With a glint in his eye he picked up my plate with one hand and gripped my wrist lightly with the other. Standing up at the table he looked down in to what I am sure was my astonished face.
“I can take you back to old Horace right now if you wish.” He said playfully. The movement and noise his chair made by scraping on the floor drew attention to us from the party goers. I placed my hand on his arm to keep him from leaving.
“No please. Stay.” I whispered urgently. The elder Mr. Peterson looked down to our part of the table and spied his son.
“Dekker, stop messing about and harassing young ladies.” His father called out good naturedly. Dekker placed my plate back in front of me and sat down.
“Yes Father.” He called out in a light tone.
“Now then, you are hereby obligated to listen to me and answer all my questions. At least until the evening is over.” He stated firmly. I felt that a person of his character would quickly grow bored and leave me soon after the meal, so I agreed. I did not know how wrong I was. After dinner, Dekker going against polite society’s norms, quickly monopolized me for every dance. He chatted gaily with me the whole time. He stuck with me the whole night much to the chagrin of my
Uncle
who pretended not to be perturbed by the whole thing. We drew curious glances from most people at the Ball.
“So my father thinks I will get into the same family business, politics and textiles, but he has no idea that I have gotten it into my head to become a pirate of sorts.”
“A pirate? Do they even exist anymore? I thought they were outlawed by the Grand Council after the great war.” He twirled me around the dance floor gently.
“Exactly my astute one, that is why I need to revive the tradition of drinking, sailing and plundering. With one exception.”
“What is that?”
“I will only plunder the rich and I will give to the poor.”
“Poor? There are no poor since the war. The Grand Council made sure of that.” Dekker gave me the strangest look as the song ended.
“Have you really lived that much of a sheltered life Miss Lowood, that you do not know the world you live in?” This time there was no playful note in his tone. He was serious, and the mischievous look in his eyes was now replaced with a hard glint. It took me by surprise.
“Miss? Your Uncle says you should take some fresh air now. You are looking a little peaked.” Mrs. Whitby had appeared by my side holding my wrap that she had picked out. I looked at Mrs. Whitby who nodded her head over in the direction of my Uncle who stood in the corner of the room with a group of men. He was looking at me with a stern look on his face. Dekker spied my Uncle’s severe look and took my hand briefly before clicking his boot heels together.
“Thank you for the dance Miss Lowood.” I curtsied to him and let myself be led outside by Mrs. Whitby.
Mrs. Whitby chatted on about my dress and how pretty I looked, but I should really give a chance to the other young fellows at the Ball.
“There are many who wanted to dance with you and they kept coming up to the Master asking him for permission, but you never sat down once. That young Mr. Peterson certainly had you occupied.”
“Yes he did. He certainly was a funny fellow.” Mrs. Whitby placed my wrap around my shoulders and whispered.
“I’m going in now.” She scurried away as I saw Mr. Lowood approaching.
“Having a good time Niece?” He said with an unpleasant undertone.
“Yes, I am thank you. I apologize if I caused you any embarrassment with the young Mr. Peterson. He kept talking on and on and would not stop, even when I wished to sit down.” Mr. Lowood walked up to the edge of the balcony and leaned against it looking out into the night as if searching for something.
“Yes I noticed. So did Mr. Peterson to my great disappointment. It seemed like the young Peterson is quite taken with you. He is notorious for ignoring girls. He is not interested in marriage or courting and or even talking to the opposite sex.” He turned towards me and scrutinized me from head to toe. I felt a heat rise from my neck to my face. I did not like being subjected to his stare.
“His father was always afraid that his son was of a different persuasion and was quite worried. Naturally, every parent wants their child to grow up and get married and have children. Carry on the family business, name and all that. So tonight, I dare say that you have brought the elder Mr. Peterson quite some happiness.”
“Why is that?” Claren asked
He smiled bitterly.
“Because he saw his son’s possessive behavior with you tonight. He felt that the two of you should see much more of each other. To be polite I nodded my head and smiled, but of course I am against it.”
“I didn’t think he was quite that fond of me. In fact, I said something just as the dance ended that caused him some displeasure. The whole evening he had been gay and funny, but then his whole demeanor changed in an instant.”
“Really? What was it that you said?” Mr. Lowood asked arching his eyebrow.
“Yoo hoo, Fredrick! They are playing our song. You must take me out!” Mrs. Walefield found her way out to the balcony and put her hand on Mr. Lowood’s arm. She turned towards me and smiled in a slightly drunk manner. I noticed she has lipstick on her teeth.
“You don’t mind do you darling? You see your Uncle everyday but we hardly ever get a glimpse of his handsome face.”
“No, please, by all means. I think my Uncle would benefit from some dancing.” He cast me a stern glance and led Mrs. Walefield inside. The night air was cold for December but I was still very warm from all the dancing I had done earlier. I didn’t feel like going back in just yet, but when Horace Bitwater came outside and nervously asked me for a dance, I could not refuse. I felt sorry for his appearance such as it was, but I admired his courage. I knew it was no easy task for a person that is not blessed with good looks to ask for a dance. I tried not to notice the looks we received as we entered the ballroom. Even the servants, who were in the middle of offering up little cakes with brandy to the ladies who were not dancing, stopped to stare at us.
“You seem to attract a lot of attention Miss Lowood.” Horace Bitwater said in a shy voice.
“I don’t think it’s me at all but your superb dancing skills Mr. Bitwater.” I teased. He chuckled and his glasses slipped down past the bridge of his nose. He let go of my hand briefly to push them back up with his index finger.
“I did take dancing lessons for many years. My mother insisted. She related to me how in her youth she loved men that could dance well, and that is how she and my father fell in love. In a ball room like this, at a great party.”
“How lovely.” I said uncomfortably as he whirled me around somewhat clumsily. I happened to spy Dekker Peterson standing in the corner with an amused look on his face. It was a better expression than what he had before when he told me that I must be unaware of the world I was living in. As Horace Bitwater chatted on, I was beginning to think that Dekker Peterson was making fun of me for dancing with Horace. I shrugged it off to shallowness, who cared who I danced with. I was not engaged to anyone.
I determined to make a great show of laughing with Horace so that others could see I had not treated Dekker Peterson with special favor. To my great delight, it turned out that Horace possessed a quiet yet quick wit that I grew to admire as we danced. Humble and shy, he carried on conversation, hesitantly asking me questions and offering up bits of information on himself. He was not full of himself as Dekker seemed to be. I carefully answered his questions. He smiled and seemed to grow more comfortable with me. Of course his acne was horrible to look at and his teeth were rather large for his mouth but his pleasant personality made up for all that visual interference. As fortune would have it, the dance ended right in front of where Dekker was standing. Horace bowed to me and I curtsied to him. In a confident voice that Dekker could hear, Horace asked if he could call on me.
“Miss Lowood, I would like to visit you sometime at Westwind.” I smiled feeling Dekker’s burning eyes upon us.
“Of course Mr. Bitwater. I am sure my Uncle would love for you to visit. I’ll discuss the matter with him on the way home tonight. We receive so few visitors in the country.” Horace smiled and seemed to float away from me.
Mrs. Whitby took my arm gently to inform me we were leaving. I did not even glance in Dekker’s direction but allowed Mrs. Whitby to lead me away.
The carriage ride home was quiet as Mr. Lowood pulled out his pipe and lit it. I noticed Mrs. Whitby had fallen asleep. We were to drop her off at her house since it was close to midnight and Thomas had already gone home for the evening. I noticed Mr. Lowood kept glancing at me as if he wanted to strike up a conversation, but then would change his mind. It was only after we dropped Mrs. Whitby off at her home that he spoke up.