"Fawn?" I turned away from the lake, the wind momentarily blowing some hair across my eyes. I didn't have to see to know that it was Mary calling my name. When I brushed the hair away, I saw her looking at me, her hands on her hips, her head cocked to the side like a curious bird. "Watcha doing out here?"
I blinked, looked around. There was no one else nearby. I hadn't noticed them go in, if in they'd gone.
Mary was looking at me like she expected me to explain. I looked back at her, my eyebrows rising by the second. Inside my head was Aunt Nola's voice, cautioning me about my poor attitude, but I ignored it.
"You wanna...I don't know, maybe follow the group?" she stepped aside, her arm gesturing to the front door. Curiosity to see what was inside the house came over me, and I nodded and shrugged. I make a mental note to come back to that spot before we leave, and look out over the water again, lock it in my memory. Who knew if I would ever get a chance to come up to Vermont again.
The foyer of the great house sent us from the brilliant sunlight into instant darkness. A cool wave flowed over my body, not from air conditioning but from the very materials the house was built of in the late 1880's. As my eyes adjusted to the low lighting, I made out a polished wood parquet floor of impossible intricacy, smooth tiled marble walls that crested into a beautiful wooden ceiling with miniature vaults, of the same wood and quality as the floors beneath our feet. I fought hard to keep my mouth from gaping open in amazement. I had thought Mansfield was beautiful, and it was, but this was breathtaking.
"Keep up," Mary whispered to me, putting a hand on my back and guiding me to join the group. I fought the urge to break away from her and study the tiny details of the walls and floor, the very bones of its architecture. We made our way swiftly to what looked like a sitting room, all leather and dark polished wood with thick, beautifully crafted carpets. The rest of our expedition was convened around the unlit fireplace, gazing up at a painting above the mantle. Ned caught sight of us entering the room and something in him seemed to relax as he smiled at both of us. Mary stood between us, but Ned leaned around her to wiggle his eyebrows at me, giving a quick glance around the room to show he was impressed, too. I smiled and nodded in agreement before turning to pay attention to Rush.
Rush was in his element. He was always at his best when he was talking about Sotherton Farms, and now, standing in the middle of his domicile, he is the happiest and most confident I had ever seen him. It was almost endearing to me, but I could see from the look on Mireille's face that it was less the man than it was his house that charmed her. I couldn't blame her-the chance to have a place like this as my home was a giddy thought.
The tour dutifully traipsed through the house after our buoyant, boyish guide. My eyes were drawn to the little details: word-working on the door frames, the slow change of stately on the bottom floor to comfortable through all the family rooms. We didn't see the kitchen. I couldn't ask.
When he brought us out again into the bright sunlight, and we made our way squinting across the yard to the family chapel, I breathed in the brilliant, moist air. Ned nudged me with his arm-he'd come around my left side, so that Mary was on my right-and whispered "Not bad, huh?" And because I was happy, and because I thought I finally understood what Dr Grant had written about no one deserving more, and because I wasn't afraid of Mary anymore, I laughed and said, "Yeah, you know, it's not too shabby." Ned grinned and laughed, delighted, and from the corner of my eye I saw Mary smile at me, too, before we stepped into the chapel doors.
Sunlight streamed through every window, so bright that for a moment I expected there to be no roof, to find that I was looking not at a vaulted stone ceiling but at open sky. The chapel was built in the European gothic style, according to Rush, and not the clapboard American style, because it gave the place a sense of grandeur the Puritan New England architecture didn't understand. Every single word of what he said went over my head, but I drank it in, storing it for later when I did understand.
When Rush was finished talking, and we broke into little groups to explore, I found myself following Ned and Mary automatically. The point at which I realized that they might not want my company was exactly the point at which they noticed me, and any escape was impossible.
"Beautiful place," Ned murmured, nodding around.
"It's okay," Mary said. Her voice was less reverential, less hushed. While Ned and I were craning our necks up and around to get everything, she was paying only a courteous attention to the space, and her hand thumped against her hip rhythmically. She seemed impatient.
"Not a big fan of the gothic style, huh?" Ned joked.
"Not a big fan of churches," she said, laughing as she looked around, "big rooms where people are forced to pray to some non-existent big man in the clouds to save their souls? No, thanks. Religion seems like a whole lot of hoopla for me, to be honest." I froze, flicking my eyes to Ned, whose face seemed to fall before my eyes. But she had know that...He had to have told her...Too humiliated to speak or too polite to correct her, he said nothing, but trailed a few steps back behind her. From my spot, a few steps behind him, I could see the tense set of his shoulders, the way his thumbs rubbed the knuckles of his forefingers over and over again. How could he have not told her? How was it that what you wanted to do more than anything in the world had not been a topic of conversation yet? I found myself wondering, and when I realized that my wondering reflected badly on both of them, I shook my head, uncomfortable. There must have been something else to talk about. I hadn't been there, hadn't seen. But still.
As if he had felt me staring, Ned turned to wait for me, his mouth hitched valiantly in a little smile as if I hadn't heard what had just happened. "And what do you think, Miss Price?" He had the careful focus of someone who hadn't slept in days and was trying to overcompensate.
"It's a little...I don't know," I said, looking around. "It's beautiful, but it feels like there's something off about the way it's built, like it's too low or too dark or they meant it to be one way and it turned out another. I don't know. Just rambling." In my attempt to explain myself, I hadn't bothered to lower my voice, and fifteen feet away from us, Mary turned to look at us.
"Oh, so you're an architect?" I closed my mouth with a snap and looked down at the floor, away from her face. There had been nothing malicious in the words, but I felt the heat of them anyway. I had no idea what I was. It had been an honest question, though. But why hasn't she asked Ned what he is yet?
My reaction must have shaken Mary, because she started forward as Ned placed his hand on my back, concerned. "Hey, what's the matter? I'm sorry, I wasn't judging you, you know." I gave a jerking nod of my head, and, thinking of Ned, lifted my eyes to meet her, to give her a little smile of reassurance. When she finally stepped away and gave me room to think, I turned back to see Ned's mouth tighten at the corners, a frown line appearing between his eyebrows. Today wasn't the very best day for him.
I took a deep breath, and then another. No one deserves more than you. No one deserves more than you. No one in the world. Even if they were just to make me feel better, even if Dr Grant hadn't meant them, thinking about them helped. And it was just Ned, after all. No one to be afraid of. No one to be uncomfortable around.
So I breathed again, and leaned in again, and said, more quietly this time, "I think the person who made the house should have made the chapel. They made the house to be different. This looks like they were trying to make it be like another building." I'd only ever seen pictures of places like this. I had never been in one myself. So maybe I was wrong, maybe what I'd said was stupid. I didn't think it did.
Ned opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a call across the sanctuary. "Are you going to have your wedding here, Mireille?" Julia, standing next to Henry, watching Mireille watch him. Rush was next to his fiancee, but no one paid attention to him.
Mireille shrugged, flicking an imaginary piece of lint off her pristine outfit. "Probably."
"You know, if Ned were a minister already, we could do the ceremony right now. You and Rush at the altar," Julia raised her hands, capturing it all in the small frame made by fingers and thumbs, "Ned saying the blessings, Henry and me for witnesses. Mary could be the photographer, and Fawn could be the flower girl. Precious, don't you think?" She was laughing up at Henry, who smiled back politely, but it was only politely. Julia didn't realize how desperate she sounded. "The picture of New England country elegance."
In the slight pause that followed, I tried not to look anyone in the face. The tension was palpable in the room. I didn't know where to put my eyes. Then Mireille laughed an airy, unconcerned kind of laugh, like an adult brushing off a pestering child, and turned to Rush, as if he were sharing her joke. "Cute, Julia. Though I think I'll take care of the wedding planning from now on, okay?" I watched as both sisters turned away as if they didn't care, as if they weren't insulted. Suddenly the open, airy sanctuary was oppressive and close, and I couldn't wait to leave. I slipped out the door, into the bright sunlight, leaving the wedding party down a flower girl as I let the sunlight scrub my eyes clean, and the wind polish the nastiness off my skin before it sank in and settled.
I had taken only ten steps outside when the door opened again and I heard Mary's voice, "A minister, huh? Were you going to tell me about that ever?"
"I was." He sounded like he was enjoying a simple academic conversation. I moved away from the doorway, trying to give them their privacy, but they moved toward me until they caught up with me, and then we were walking together down the path over the lawn. Ned on my left, Mary on my right.
"Okay, so explain to me why it is you want to shame other people into being religious, because I'm having a hard time understanding why a nice, modern guy like you would be into anything so archaic." The words made me flinch, but her tone was as casual as Ned's had been, as if none of it mattered at all.
I looked determinedly ahead of me, trying not to see the way Ned glanced up at the sky, eyes checking for rain clouds amid thousands of miles of impeccable blue. I tried not to see Mary run her hand through her hair. I couldn't block out Ned saying, "I think we have different opinions about that. But I don't know if you want to hear mine right now."
"Oh, whatever. I don't want to fight about it or anything, it just seems weird that someone as smart as you can't be, like, a doctor or a lawyer or something."
"I'm sure I could be. if I wanted. But I don't." I could hardly bear the sound of his voice, the distance, the frigidity. This Ned reminded me of Mireille, of her nonchalance, and the cold I felt had nothing to do with the wind pulling my hair away from my head.
"Maybe you just haven't found anything better."
"Maybe you're right."
The wind picked up again, and I pretended it was pulling me away from the conversation, or at least deafening me and blinding me, too.
No one should be a hero.
It wasn't until night, when I was sitting along out on the back brick verandah, that I found peace again. When Ned and Mary had finally let me be alone, I'd run directly into Mireille and Henry, who didn't seem to notice my presence. Rush had found me after I thought I'd found a place to be alone, and had talked my ear off until it was time for dinner. Outside, away from the crowd inside, I could find again that soaring sense of peace I'd found before. Even the night air seemed different here; cooler, softer, more fragrant. The earth was still wet here, not burnt to a crisp the way it always was in Connecticut.
This house was so beautiful, right down to its foundations. Someone, some brilliant, passionate someone, had cared enough to make it perfect, to bring all the details together. And for all his faults, Rush loved this place, breathed this land, this house, this lake. He was proud of where he lived. It had never occurred to me to be proud of Mansfield.
I wondered what it would be like to be able to build things like this. To construct something where there had been nothing, to be a creator, a real visionary. The people who did that must be so smart, so well educated. Ned could do that, I thought, or could have done if he hadn't wanted to be a minister. For someone who'd stopped school when she was sixteen, the prospect must be impossible. But it was beautiful, building beautiful houses. I still wanted to be the kind of person who could.
I leaned back against the outer wall of the building, still warmed from the sun. I wanted to stay here, just like this. Alone. I wanted to walk through the grounds and lay in the grass, and not have to see anyone. It may have been the happiest feeling I'd ever had.
The back door opened, and footsteps approached. Ned's voice said, "Don't worry, it's only me."
My gaze still fixed up at the stars, the thousands and thousands of stars, I said, "I wasn't worried."
He settled himself down next to me, but not too close. "You love it here."
I smiled, breathed in. Breathed out. "I love it." The silence came up around us for a moment, and the two desires-to be alone and to talk to Ned-warred within me. I turned to him. "Did you see how the green tiles in the walls were reflected in the ceilings?"
He looked at me quizzically. "No, I didn't notice."
"Or how, walking from one room to the next, the floors were kind of leading you there, like the house wanted you to be in the exact same room you were going to?"
He was smiling now, a strange expression on his face, "No, I didn't see that either."
"Or how the ceilings gave depth to the rooms without making it huge and empty and echoey? and the same wood used in every room, even the new furniture?"
"Did Rush tell you about this?"
I blinked at him, surprised. "No. I saw it myself. It's a beautiful house, Ned."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "I never knew you liked architecture this much."
I shrugged. "Me neither. Guess we do now, though."
"Guess we do."
I sighed again. "I've never been anywhere this beautiful before." The night sent up a breeze to kiss my face, and I tilted my head up to meet it, unashamed.
"So...what do you think of Mary?" His voice was diffident, almost embarrassed. I glanced at him in surprise. We'd never talked about his dating life before.
When it became apparent that he was expecting a real answer from me, I dug around for something to say. What did I think of Mary? How could I put something I didn't know into words?
I settled for, "She's nice. And she's definitely beautiful. And outgoing. But, Ned, does she really hate religion that much? Did you really never talk about what you wanted to do with your life?" The thought of it seemed inconceivable to me. If I'd had any real dreams, I'd want someone I was in love with to know. Not that I had either one of those things. And not that Ned was necessarily in love with Mary.
He sighed in frustration, running his hands through his hair. "I don't know, it just never came up. I wasn't avoiding it. And I don't think she's against me being religious, not once I show her that I'm not, I don't know, a bigot."
"You only have to meet you once to know that, Ned." The words came out before I'd thought of them, but I found I wasn't embarrassed by them. They were the truth.
He smiled at me, the worry lines around his eyes smoothing out a little. "You always know what to say." He reached for my hand, grasping it with his, bringing it over to his knee. It was a gesture he'd made before, it didn't mean anything, but I found myself looking away across the lawn, suddenly awkward, suddenly hot. I was glad I didn't blush. We sat like that, the wind dying down, the stars blazing, for a long time. Neither one of us said a word.
A/N:Sorry I've been a long time. Work is owning my soul.
But seriously, now, people, why don't you review?
Maybe I'm just spoiled from the other, more popular Jane Austen threads...