Charles Town, South Carolina

1756

It might have been a lovely day, had it not been for the heat. The air was oppressively hot, windless and stifling - though as much could only be expected on a summer day in the South. Wagons rolled slowly across the cobble-stone street, the horses drawing them lulled into a state of laziness and stupor by the intolerable heat; their driver was not faring much better.

This seemed to be the state of every person on the crowded street, save one dark-haired young man, who was, with very brisk stride, making his way down the sidewalk, tipping his hat to the ladies he passed. His pace slowed as he reached his destination - the large, imposing figure of a white house. He glanced at the wildflowers he held; they where slightly wilted, due to the heat as well as to the thoughtless manner in which he had occasionally swung them as he walked. He grimaced, and attempted to straighten the bouquet, only to shake his head and sigh as his endeavors proved to be in vain. He then looked back toward the house, cleared his throat, removed his hat, straightened his jacket, which had become somewhat unkempt in his haste, and started toward the front door.

He came to a stop before the door, and raised a hand to knock. His hand wavered indecisively as it came near the gilded door-knocker. He scrunched his face into a contemplative frown, grunted, and shook his head. He continued staring at the door for a moment, when his thoughtful expression suddenly gave way to one of roguish mischievousness. He quickly abandoned the porch by climbing over the railing and jumping off so as to land directly in front of a small white gate, which he knew to lead to the back of the house. He opened it and stepped through, taking care to close it again with as much silence as could be managed.

He began to creep stealthily around the corner of the house, maneuvering smoothly underneath an open window in order that he should not be seen, hiding the flowers behind him while doing so. At the corner of the house he encountered a considerably deep puddle of water, around which - after giving it a baffled look - he carefully stepped, so as not to soil his fine clothes.

As he entered the backyard, he noticed with delight that the back door was open; and, to his further elation, just within the door, a slight, delicate figure could be seen, bent over an unseen object. He grinned slyly, perceiving that his approach was, as yet, unnoticed. He neared her, with the intent to tap her shoulder, when she, with the utmost agility and litheness, turned about and launched a bucketful of water quite squarely into his face. He, completely and utterly taken aback, found himself standing in the middle of a newly-created puddle of soapy water - his clothes a sodden mess, his neatly pulled-back hair plastered down in a most ridiculous fashion, his mouth agape as the water dripped off the end of his nose.

The young woman was every bit as shocked as he, and for the moment could only succeed in standing and staring at him stupidly, as he was at her. He then regained his former composure and bowed in an exceedingly dashing manner.

"Good afternoon, Elizabeth." He smiled gallantly and most absurdly at her as he presented the flowers, which, to his mild surprise and complete relief, had managed to escape the deluge due to his having had them behind his back. He then laughed, carelessly shaking the water from his hair. Elizabeth also laughed, amused at this wild display, and accepted the flowers which he held out to her.

"Good afternoon, Benjamin." Her voice sounded as delicate and gentle as she looked. "I am terribly sorry for having drenched you. I was emptying out the wash-water, and I must say, I was not expecting anyone to be standing there."

"It is perfectly alright. Indeed, in this weather, a good soaking is quite refreshing."

"I believe I would be inclined to agree with you on that; but standing there in wet clothes must be miserable. Please, come inside; you can dry off in front of the fire."

Benjamin thanked her and entered the house, where he was greeted by the uncomfortable - but not completely unwelcome - warmth of a large kitchen fire. As he situated himself before the hearth, Elizabeth placed the flowers in a vase.

"They are lovely."

He smiled as he watched her bury her nose in the midst of them, closing her eyes as she smelled of their fragrance.

"And they smell absolutely heavenly." She smiled back up at him. "But surely you did not come all this way just to bring these to me?"

"No, actually, I - "

Benjamin took a deep breath, wondering why is was that he was able to fearlessly engage in a war with savage Indians, but was now apprehensive at the thought of asking a simple question; he felt a shiver run up his spine, and felt fairly certain that it was not due to the cold water that had been flung on him.

"Elizabeth, I was on my way to speak with your father - to request that I have permission to court you - "

Elizabeth gave a little gasp, and her hand flew to her mouth, but she said nothing.

" - but I felt that I should ask you first."

Elizabeth had suddenly found that she was out of breath, and she could only manage a slight nod, which was followed, as soon as she could catch her breath again, by a softly-spoken "Yes, of course."

Benjamin smiled, also finding it suddenly and inexplicably hard to breathe. He stepped close to her, and kissed her tenderly on the cheek.