Part IV

Blacksmith Brown's front entrance is always so disgustingly dirty. I don't expect white wash and lye, but – honestly! -- can't they think to scrub it off once in awhile?

"Will?" I call, wrapping my hand in a handkerchief so the black grime won't rub off onto it, before testing the door. Open. As usual. "Will, you were supposed to stay for dinner."

"What you suppose should happen and what actually does, Elizabeth, rarely coincide," Will says for the forge.

He's taken off his vest and jacket. His white shirt is half open and the heat from the forge always makes it stick to his chest. Excellent. Despite his crabby mood, this may turn out to be a fine visit after all.

"How else am I going to see you if I don't invent reasons?" I ask, rocking back and forth on my heels, hands behind my back. "You've scarcely breathed the same air as me for neigh a week. It's upsetting, Will. Don't you see that?"

"I see a girl who is missing her plaything and nothing else."

"That's not true," I insist, shaking my head. "I miss you. I do. If I didn't, would I really go through such elaborate schemes to get you in my house?"

"Yes."

I motion at my fancy dress, making sure to include the "assets" he seems to find so alluring of late in the gesture. As expected, his gaze follows before he blushes and looks away. "This is a new dress. Papa bought it special for tonight," I say. "I wanted to look pretty. I spent so much time and effort on my appearance."

"Hoping for a compliment, no doubt?"

"Is that so very wrong?" I ask. "Unlike boys who have the luxury of having a profession, the best I can hope for is a smart match and running a household. My appearance is the only thing I've got."

Will sighs, laying his hammer across the anvil and wiping his dirty hands on the sides of his pants before coming around to take my hands in his. "You've got brains and spirit and heart, Elizabeth," he says quietly. "Don't ever let anyone tell you you are just a pretty face. You're so much more than that."

"Thank you, Will. That means quite a lot to me."

He fishes out a clean handkerchief and dabs at my eyes when I can't but help a few tears. "I am sorry I have been avoiding you but I. . .There's so much work and we are not children anymore, Elizabeth. What was acceptable at ten is not as sixteen."

I nod. "I understand but I. . .Can't you come around more often, Will? Even just for tea. I'd love it if you came around for tea. I'm getting very good at serving. You'd think my manners very fine."

He nods slowly, perhaps just to placate me, but I don't rightly care as long as he does not disappear entirely from my world. "I'd. . .I'd like that, Elizabeth."

"Tomorrow then? Or the day after?"

"I'll. . .I'll send word," he promises. "Does your father know you're out?"

I shake my head. "No. I should return." I reluctantly pull my hands free, stepping backwards toward the door. "Good bye, Will. Come around soon."

"Good bye, Elizabeth," he says. "I will."