My response to a challenge from Marianne Greenleaf! :D
xxx
From the moment he'd first seen her – even the moment that Marcellus had first described her to him – Harold Hill had thought of Marian Paroo as cold. This had certainly presented a challenge, but it didn't bother him much. He liked a challenge, for one thing, and truth be told, he didn't have much interest in melting her, either. Oh, he certainly hoped to break past her defenses so she'd stop resisting his amorous advances, but he was much more interested in getting her hot than getting her warm. What he wanted was the heat of her naked body against his, and any further warmth was entirely unnecessary.
And honestly, it might have been a liability if she hadn't been that way. That was precisely how Harold preferred his women to be, beautiful but cold in just the right ways. He needed a woman that wouldn't start falling all over him with declarations of love just because he took her to bed and gave her a good time. He needed a woman that he wouldn't feel the least bit regretful about leaving behind because he knew without a doubt that she wouldn't miss him, either.
Though she was certainly more resistant in the beginning than he would have liked, in many ways, Marian had seemed to be the perfect mark. She had that coldness that guaranteed that she wouldn't get attached, but at the same time, she wasn't the frigid virginal type who would ultimately prove a waste of his time and energy – Mrs. Shinn and the ladies had made quite certain that he knew that. Not that he couldn't have gotten past that hurdle if she were that type – he'd done it before, and he'd certainly do it again if it meant he could have a woman as beautiful as Marian for his reward – but it was always so much more enjoyable if the woman he slept with knew what she was doing.
And whether Marian knew what she was doing or not, it was plainly obvious to Harold that she'd enjoy doing it. Her intense passions were right there for him to see, burning right beneath the chilly surface – there was fire in her eyes every time she turned on him in anger, and he could easily picture the way she'd look wearing that same fiery expression but saying yes, yes, yes. And that moment in the library when she'd almost let him kiss her, when she'd melted with dreamy desire, he'd seen exactly what kind of a lover she would be. The thought of Marian moaning and crying out with pleasure while writhing and undulating beneath him (and above him and beside him and wherever else she may have ended up in the course of the steamy, wild romps that he imagined for the two of them) obsessed him with an intensity stronger than any he could recall feeling over a potential conquest. She was just that enticing.
The librarian was making him feel like a teenager again, half-tortured by the fantasies that consumed him every night when he lay down in that lonely bed in the boardinghouse – torrid fantasies that haunted his dreams as well as his waking hours and often made it impossible to concentrate on anything else until he could provide himself with some form of release, however paltry it may have been in comparison to the real thing. But these were hopeful, anticipatory fantasies, too, because he was entirely confident that they would become reality within a few short weeks.
If Marian was hot in bed, who the hell cared if she was cold?
And then things had to go and get complicated. Everything had changed since the day the Wells Fargo wagon had delivered her little brother's cornet. The kid had been thrilled, of course, and Harold had to admit that he was genuinely happy to finally see that poor, sad boy with a smile on his face.
But Marian... he had sought to make her brother happy specifically to earn her goodwill, so she'd no longer want to see him run out of town, but God, he hadn't been prepared to deal with the reality of a joyful Marian. He couldn't have realized what he'd be up against.
For the first time ever, she'd turned to him with a real smile, caused by him, meant for him. He should have felt triumphant. This was a key victory in his conquest of River City and, more directly, her. But the con man was too bewitched to think of her in such a calculated manner right that moment.
The librarian knocked him breathless with that smile. Since he'd first laid eyes on her, he'd known that she was gorgeous beyond belief, but it wasn't until he'd seen her alight with joy that he'd come to realize the truth, an uncomfortably emotional, thrilling, terrifying truth –
Marian Paroo was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.
If that radiant, sincere smile had been a one-time event, maybe Harold could have gotten past it, but as the days went by, it seemed that this would be the new norm between them. Even if he just passed the librarian on the street for a moment, her eyes would light up, and his heart would ache in the most disconcerting way.
Each time they met over the following week, he found that certain startling impulses would sneak up on him, impulses that made him ever-so-briefly aware that he wasn't solely interested in bedding her anymore. Harold found himself fantasizing about doing things with Marian that utterly shocked him in their chaste respectability – holding her hand, walking arm in arm, kissing her on the cheek or the top of the head. Sitting beside her, making her laugh, making her happy.
God, she was so lovely when she was happy.
This was a problem that he had never dealt with before, a question that he had never developed an answer to in his years and years of experience as a con man. What do you do if you meet a woman who has a smile like an angel? What do you do if you genuinely like her, more than anybody you've ever known? What do you do if she makes you happier than anything else in the world ever has? What do you do? …
xxx
If Marian had grown to like Harold after the band instruments were delivered, her alliance with him had been cemented completely after their afternoon in the Candy Kitchen. What's more, it was now undeniable that her fondness for him was not merely platonic. The dreamy infatuation in her gaze when she'd turned back at the door and given her consent for him to call on her had been incredibly obvious. He had finally conquered her frosty exterior and brought those simmering passions nearly to the surface; he should have been ecstatic. Not only had she lost any desire to expose him, but he was also almost certainly mere days away from finally taking her to his bed.
And yet, again, he couldn't celebrate his hard-won victory without a hint of underlying doubt. River City was in his pocket at this point – that wasn't his concern. The problem was the unprecedented effect that the librarian was continuing to have on him, an effect that had now progressed beyond those vexing but fleeting pangs of the heart. Even during their very successful conversation at the Candy Kitchen, he had found himself stammering, mixing up words, saying things that made no sense, as if the strawberry phosphate he'd been sipping was the most potent liquor in the world. The real cause of his intoxication, of course, was her crimson lips and golden ringlets and ivory skin and voice like music. It was her sweet smile and long lashes and the way she cast her eyes down and blushed when she was pleased.
He had no idea why this should be the case – he'd spent the better part of his life in as close proximity to attractive women as he could manage, and he'd long, long ago stopped allowing a woman's physical beauty to drive him to distraction. But it was laughably insufficient to describe Marian Paroo as merely "a woman". There was no other woman in the world who could compare to her. She was in a class all her own.
The first time he'd had that thought, Harold wasn't quite sure what it meant, but he was definitely not comfortable with the implications.
The only thing for it was to carefully plan out exactly what he would say and do each and every time he encountered her for the remainder of his time in River City. Right now, he couldn't even afford to think something about her unless he'd carefully considered his emotional state beforehand. He had to keep his distance, or… or…
He wasn't even sure he understood the alternative, in fact, but he knew that he could not allow it to happen.
But there was only so much control Harold could exercise over the situation. After letting the boys out of band rehearsal one afternoon a few days after their Candy Kitchen conversation, he was shocked to see Marian waiting for Winthrop outside the high school – something she'd never done before. How could he have possibly planned for this encounter?
The young boy ran down the sidewalk to his sister, chattering loudly and excitedly, threw his arms around her and handed her his cornet, and then, just as quickly, ran off with a pack of his new friends. Marian watched him dart away with a wistful smile on her face – but of course, she didn't follow. However, she didn't leave, either. For some reason, she simply stood where she was, taking a moment to watch the breeze rustle in the trees, her expression beautifully serene.
Harold's heart lurched as he considered what he should do. He certainly hadn't been prepared for her to be here. Perhaps it would have been safer to avoid her – only a few steps and he could have ducked back inside. But the part of himself that hadn't yet been reduced to a complete wreck over this woman remembered that he should be taking any opportunity possible to gain her trust, to inch a little closer to the prize he was seeking. He had to talk to her.
Today, Marian was wearing a peach afternoon dress with sleeves that fluttered around her elbows and a simple straw hat with a matching ribbon. Harold immediately noticed how the color complemented the charming blush in her cheeks, and then just as hastily tried to forget that he'd had that thought. He refocused his attention on the way the cut of the dress showed off her slender form and lovely curves, instead.
"Good afternoon, Miss Paroo!" he called with a tip of his hat as he drew near.
The librarian turned to him, and there was that beaming smile again – he'd steeled himself for it, but it still affected him profoundly. Even from a distance, he'd been able to see the love in her eyes when she'd embraced her brother, but this look was very different, and just for him. The idea brought an unwelcome lump to his throat – he swallowed hard and tried to focus on the task at hand.
"Oh, good afternoon, Professor," Marian responded, giving him a prim, cordial nod that was rather at odds with the glowing fondness on her face. "Before he left today, Winthrop asked me to if I could meet him here to pick up his cornet right after practice. He and Davey and some others have some grand plans for the afternoon, it seems! I know that Mama and I shouldn't indulge his whims like that, and I don't intend to let it become a habit, but you have to understand what it's like for us, seeing him like this. Winthrop hasn't gone playing with friends since – for years."
The response floated into his mind, unbidden: And you, Miss Marian, what haven't you done for years? Smiled like that?
In a desperate attempt to crush that unwelcome thought before it could take hold of him, Harold forced himself to act, to be showy and grandiose, to sell something. Around Marian, it was far, far too easy to forget to do that.
"Why, that's wonderful," he declared, clapping his hands together with more fervor than was necessary. "See, the second I set eyes on that boy, I knew it would do him a world of good to get involved with the band."
"Oh, it has," Marian exclaimed. "I can hardly express how fortunate it is that you happened to come to River City this summer. If it weren't for you – the band – I don't know what it would have taken to bring back the Winthrop we know and love. Maybe it never would have happened."
"Your brother's a great kid – one of the very best," Harold agreed, grinning as broadly as he could in order to prevent any deeper emotion from showing on his face.
Instead of answering right away, the librarian simply gazed warmly at him, and the salesman wasn't sure what he should say. Her sweet expression was leaving him teetering on the brink of treacherous sentimentality once again. So Harold leapt right back into the only defense mechanism he had left against – whatever this was – and reached for a topic about which he could bloviate and bluster and sell, sell, sell.
"So, Miss Marian, you're a musician. Have you tried out the Think System yourself, by any chance?" he blurted, almost wincing at his own gracelessness.
To his utter surprise, Marian did not find this question absurd. "I did, briefly," she admitted, slightly abashed. "I don't think it's the same thing for somebody who already has knowledge of an instrument – "
"No, no, of course not – "
"But I tried it out on a song for which I've never seen the sheet music – something my mother likes to play on our Victrola. She's been quite taken with Carmen this summer, so – I tried playing Toreador." She laughed softly, shaking her head, and a few of the soft curls that had escaped her chignon over the course of the hot summer day tumbled down against her cheek. Harold tried not to think about how much he would have loved to curl one of those around his finger. "It went better than I expected, I suppose, but I could only figure any of it out with one hand, not the other. Of course, that wouldn't be a problem with the kind of instruments that you teach."
"Well, I, ah, I didn't design the system with piano in mind, yes. But perhaps you might be able to discover a method that I hadn't yet accounted for." He winked at her. "You'll have to let me know how you do with it."
"I will indeed," Marian affirmed, the corners of her mouth turning up in a wry, knowing little smile, and just for a moment, the con man feared that he'd been caught. Did she know? he wondered frantically. She was far too smart not to know. But if she did know, then why would she continue to humor him like this?
Annoyed – but, admittedly, a bit impressed – by how easily this woman could stymie him, Harold again blurted out the next safe-sounding question that came to mind. "Have you played the piano all your life?"
Marian nodded. "Well, my mother taught me. I grew up with the piano. And I always thought – " She hesitated, as if unsure if she should continue. "I suppose I thought that, someday – "
A change had come over her in those last few moments. The smile he loved (loved was a dangerous word, he admonished himself) had faltered, and she blinked rapidly. Dismayed, Harold realized that her pretty hazel eyes were glistening with tears. Instead of finishing her sentence, Marian gave a brief, halfhearted shrug and dropped her eyes to the cornet she was holding – and then, just as swiftly as her mood had changed, she affected a blithe disposition once more.
"I'm sorry, it's nothing." The librarian laughed again, but this one was obviously forced, lacking that musical quality that he loved – appreciated – so much.
Now Harold was back in deeply dangerous territory, because all he wanted was to see her happy and smiling again, and he feared that this desire had nothing to do with his calculated plan of seduction. But he had to say something. He couldn't bear to see her like this, and certainly not after he'd been the one to stir up whatever unpleasant thoughts she was having.
"You know, I saw the strangest thing today," he announced at last. "I was sure I must have been mistaken, but I was certain that I saw Mrs. Dunlop and Mrs. Hix walking into the library together – and they didn't look angry!"
At that, her expression brightened right away, the light coming back to her eyes. "Oh, Professor, the ladies told me everything a few days ago," Marian said with a laugh – and he was relieved that this time, her mirth was genuine. "It's truly remarkable how simple it all was – all they needed to do was read a book or two. But of course, they never listened to me whenever I suggested such a thing." She gazed up at him shyly, her cheeks flushing once again. "I suppose it's another thing that I have to thank you for."
Once again, Harold felt a sharp pang in his heart, and once again, he was left flustered and speechless. No one had ever felt deeply grateful to him – well, all right, he'd gotten Marcellus out of a few scrapes here and there, but that wasn't nearly the same as this. This simply wasn't what Harold Hill did. He ruined things, not fixed them, and he didn't make anybody happy except himself.
And what was his idea of "happiness", anyway? Right now, he was pretty sure that none of it had ever been half as rewarding as a pair of sweet hazel eyes gazing up at him with sincere gratitude and delight.
Harold tried to form a response but almost choked on his words, because, all at once, he realized just how badly he wanted to kiss Marian Paroo. Right then and there on the sidewalk outside the high school, he wanted to kiss her, and not as part of the con, nor as a step on the journey to get her to sleep with him. He wanted to kiss this lovely little librarian because it was the only way he could express what he was feeling right now.
And what he was feeling was – something that he couldn't name, but that he very definitely should not have been feeling. Clearly, he had let this go much, much too far. It had been a terrible mistake to approach her this afternoon without a plan in mind. What he needed to do was extricate himself from this perilous situation as swiftly as possible and clear his head.
Instead, he took one more step too far and gently clasped her small, soft hand in his own, letting his fingers rest against hers for just a little too long in a faint imitation of the embrace he was longing to give her.
"Miss Marian, it brings me great joy to know that I could help you, and your brother. There's no need to thank me." His voice was shaking, his hand trembling against hers.
Marian smiled, still looking him right in the eyes. "I'll thank you anyway."
The intimacy of the moment was astonishing, the way their fingers lightly touched and brushed against one another in the slightest of caresses, the way he could feel the faint thrum of her pulse beneath her skin. He'd never thought of a woman's hand this way before. What's more, Harold realized it would have been perfectly respectable of him to press a quick kiss against her hand before letting it go, and the temptation to do so was immense, but the single shred of good sense that he still had left advised him against such an egregious lapse in judgment. Good God, he couldn't even hold her hand today without nearly losing his mind!
He wasn't himself around her – or, more accurately, he was too much himself. If Harold hadn't known better, he might have thought that the librarian was conning him right back, that instead of exposing him to the townspeople, she'd concocted an elaborate plan to expose him to himself. But it was no plan of hers – it was his own damn fault for letting his guard down. It was imperative that he put a stop to this right now.
Yet still, the con man did nothing but stand there and revel in the warmth of this wonderful, captivating woman's hand in his own, until at long last, her fingers slipped from his, and they both took a tentative step backward almost at the same time.
"Oh, goodness, I realize now that I've stayed here much too long," Marian exclaimed abruptly with a shaky laugh, her hand flying to her cheek in a charming gesture of surprise. "I really do need to get back to the library!"
Exhaling deeply, Harold gave her a friendly nod. "Well, good day, Miss Marian." His voice came out much lower and more serious than he'd intended it to be, but perhaps he could use that to his advantage. Women had always loved his voice, after all – but he once again found that it now galled him to callously group Marian with all the other women he'd ever met.
"Good day," the librarian breathed, blushing and trembling – and any sense of triumph that he might have felt over reducing her to such a state with his voice and touch alone was completely negated by the fact that she had somehow done the same to him.
As she turned and began to walk away down the road, he couldn't take his eyes off her at first, and he stood as if in a trance, watching the ribbons on her hat flutter in the breeze and trying to catch his breath. Finally, the salesman mustered up enough sense to turn from her and continue back toward the high school – not that he needed anything else in the gymnasium, but for the time being, he needed to be alone, and he certainly needed to not walk in the same direction as her.
There was no doubt about it – Harold had failed abysmally today, and he was appalled at his rashness and lack of discipline. On the one hand, he certainly hadn't lost any ground with Marian. In fact, he had actually made a bit of progress. But it sure as hell hadn't been worth the utter havoc that had been unleashed within his own mind. Gritting his teeth, he castigated himself fiercely for letting himself get so cocky. This wouldn't – couldn't – happen again.
But then he remembered those beautiful eyes glowing with gratitude, with such open, genuine fondness toward him, the likes of which he hadn't seen in many, many years – and he just couldn't bring himself to wholly regret coming down to speak to her.
xxx
Long after he'd returned to the boardinghouse that evening, Harold couldn't stop thinking about his conversation with Marian – even though he repeatedly tried to remind himself that dwelling on it was the worst thing he could do for his precarious emotional state. But he wasn't lingering solely over the parts he'd enjoyed, either. What was still bothering him was that brief moment of sadness that had broken through the librarian's pleasant demeanor.
She thought that someday –
All at once, it all clicked into place, and he wondered how he could have been so stupid as to miss it before. She'd said that her mother had taught her piano from a very young age, and she'd thought that someday, she'd do the same for her own children – but evidently, that was a dream that she'd finally accepted would not ever come true.
As he considered this sobering reality, Harold felt himself grow indignant on her behalf. The girl couldn't have been more than twenty-five – all right, maybe twenty-six, if everybody was so convinced of her spinster status – and she was not only beautiful, but so good-hearted. She should have had a bundle of children if she wanted them, smart, pretty children with honey-blonde curls like hers, and a husband who worshiped the ground she walked on and held her close every single night. If fate could pair almost every one of those mean, clucking biddies with a husband but leave her behind, then there was truly no justice in the world. If there had ever been a person who deserved all the good things that life could offer, it was Marian… and yet she had so little.
He recalled the cruel and mocking tones of those now-repentant ladies as they'd informed him of all they knew about the librarian's true nature, and for the first time, it occurred to him that they might have simply been lying about everything, or at least ill-informed. Harold, of all people, knew that a person's character couldn't be judged by the persona that he or she presented to the world – but seeing Marian like this, he was certain that she was too sweet, too warm, to have played the cold-hearted seductress to that Madison man. Up until very recently, he'd assumed that she must have been merely feigning virtue in order to maintain her reputation, but he knew her too well to believe that so easily now.
Maybe Madison had taken advantage of her. That thought made Harold physically ill and half-ready to hunt down and kill a man who was already dead, but he had to remind himself that there were plenty of other explanations, too. Maybe there hadn't even been an affair. After all, just because circumstances looked a certain way to nosy outsiders, it didn't make it so. The revelation wouldn't have shocked him – the way that the librarian blushed and glowed like a maiden at his slightest flirtation these days was not characteristic of a woman who'd been with a man. Everything about Marian bespoke innocence to him, and, quite contrary to his usual feelings about innocence in a woman, he found this incredibly charming – enchanting, even.
And yet the cold, stark truth was that no matter how much happiness he wished her, Harold was going to hurt her. This sweet, honest woman who had given up all hope for happiness was falling for him, just as he'd planned it, and he was going to give her absolutely nothing that she wanted or deserved. The idea of breaking Marian's heart was despicable – yet the very fact that he felt that way was intensely alarming. The powerful dissonance of these conflicting emotions was nearly enough to give him a headache.
If there'd been any way to get it in River City, Harold was sure that he would have been driven to drink that evening.
xxx
He was welcome to call on her any night this week, she'd told him a few days ago at the Candy Kitchen, and Harold had been having a hard time resisting that invitation. But he couldn't be too over-eager, not when he was going through this kind of emotional turmoil. Frankly, he was becoming downright afraid of spending too much time with Marian. The way that she made him feel was far more dangerous than her knowledge of music and Mayor Shinn's distrust put together. Yet Harold was also finding himself growing addicted to that extraordinary feeling. Nothing else in the world compared to the exhilaration of being in her presence, so why shouldn't he take genuine enjoyment where he could find it?
He knew the answer. It was because she'd turned out to be warm, and damn it all, she was making him start to suspect that he could be warm too.
The con man did his best to think through this rationally. He wouldn't call on Marian tonight, not after all the troubling thoughts he'd had today. He was desperate to see her again, yes, but that was the problem – that was exactly what he needed to get over, and fast. So he'd visit her tomorrow, instead, right before the Ice Cream Sociable, which, with any luck, she would attend along with him. He'd turn on the charm more than he ever had for her before, and get her into bed just before he left town – because even if she was an innocent woman, Marian was clearly infatuated with him, and she wanted him, whether or not she realized what it was she wanted. It wouldn't take too much more to seduce her now. And he'd get out of River City carrying a wallet full of cash and some delightful memories of making love to the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen – would ever see, he was certain.
…And then what?
Because just for a moment, a brief, highly irrational moment, he could see nothing appealing about getting back on the train that had brought him here. Walking away from River City, from Marian, had sounded to him like an untenable course of action. What else was out there for him to he be walking towards? And what would happen after he'd left? She'd be sad, hurt, alone, hopeless – the last thing in the world he wanted for her, the last thing she deserved. And he – well, he wouldn't see Marian ever again, and life without Marian suddenly sounded neither interesting nor worthwhile.
Harold's blood almost ran cold in his veins when he finally realized the track that his mind was going down, just in time to pull the brake and bring the train to a screeching halt. He was faring much, much worse than he'd realized if he could be harboring such ideas. What he had to do was rid himself of that damn persistent idea that there was anything special going on here. Very slowly and deliberately, he went over the plan in his mind, fighting like mad to keep all emotion out of it. He would call on the librarian tomorrow night, remembering that this was all just a con. He would keep his goals firmly in mind – keeping her on his side, and getting her into bed. The rest was all distraction.
Because if he let himself think what he really felt – that Marian Paroo was gorgeous, sweet, charming, intelligent, fascinating, vulnerable, warm – Harold Hill would be a goner. Where he would be gone to, specifically, was far beyond the scope of his experience or his imagination, but he knew that he didn't want to go there.
(Except, of course, in those fleeting moments when he suspected that, deep down, he did.)