The Questionable Propriety of Twilight Walks

"Father, I'm telling you, cans are the way to go!"

"You're flippin' mad, is what you are."

William Van Dort tried to keep his patience. He and his father had this argument at least once a week, always at the same time and place—the little hut beside the fish stall that served as an office, just before they closed up for the evening. For the past year, William had been trying to convince the old man that if they were to turn their fish stall in the marketplace into a real cannery—the kind that William had read were popping up all over the place—they'd find themselves rolling in cash. As things stood now, the Van Dorts weren't exactly rolling in money. Wading toe-deep, more like. William had felt for some time that it was his turn to take over the business. He was thirty-five years old now, after all. But his father was a tenacious (and extraordinarily grumpy and old-fashioned) man. William wanted to be rich—he had no qualms about it, either. And he was positive that if the cannery idea was allowed to go ahead, he'd become a very rich man indeed. As a bonus, that might attract a girl or two. William could use a wife, really (for one thing, he felt like a real heel for still living in his parents' house), but he wasn't quite the type to go out looking on his own. Rich people had that sort of thing buttoned up from the time they were born, it seemed like. William rather liked the idea. One less thing to worry about getting done.

But at the moment, the issue was the fish business, not the marriage business. So William tried again, using the same argument he did every time.

"Look, fish goes bad after a couple of days. If we don't sell it by a certain date, then the fish—and the money—is gone. But, were we to start putting the fish into cans, it would keep longer, with more opportunity for sales."

"Flippin' mad. You'll have to wait until I'm cold in my grave before you can try an idiotic idea like that. And I won't be in my grave for some time yet."

"Everyone else in the fish business is going that way, Father. It's a mistake not to--"

"I'll not hear another word about it. Balance out the cash-box before you leave, and no ink-blots on the ledger this time!"

Yet again, William had lost. He watched his father pick up his hat and walking stick and head out the door, not quite looking forward to the clerk duties that awaited him. He glanced at the cash-box, and then at the worn ledger on the desk. After a moment he shrugged, stood up a little straighter, and went to collect his own hat and walking stick. The cash-box could wait. He'd come in early tomorrow and fix it up—his father would never know the difference. After all, financial matters are quite obviously not Father's strong suit, William thought with only a twinge of irritation.

And so William left the little office, locked the door behind him, and set off toward his parents' house in the dim twilight.

O---O

Not ten feet away, coming down the other side of the street, was a young woman named Nell. As usual, she had a slightly sour look on her plump face. The indignity of being made to work (delivering washing her mother had done for other families in the neighborhood) always showed on her face. At twenty, she should have been married by now, and have a man to earn money for her. Just too bad that most of the men in this neighborhood couldn't exactly be counted on to be breadwinners. Also too bad that none of them seemed quite inclined to be married to Nell, either. Well, it was their own loss, in Nell's opinion—she was innately higher up on the class ladder than they were. Besides, there was absolutely no way that she was going to end up like her own mother—stuck in a dirty little house, never entertaining, and actually working for wages. It was positively disgraceful. Nell just knew that she was destined for something more than life on the "fishy" end of town. A title would be a good place to start. If a rich society husband were attached to the title, all the better.

Privately, Nell entertained a little fantasy centered on how, one day soon, a well-to-do landed aristocrat would somehow magically wind up on her doorstep and propose marriage. The space in between the hypothetical aristocrat's arrival and his hypothetical proposal was fuzzy in Nell's mind, but that didn't matter. It would happen. It had to. She'd show her mother yet—she'd have tea in the best drawing rooms, she'd live in a huge mansion right on the town square, she'd wear the latest fashionable clothes, have a legion of servants...It really didn't matter that Nell didn't have much of an idea about how she'd get there. But she would.

Wrapped up in ideas of what would be the best sort of hat to wear whilst playing hard-to-get with a besotted nobleman, Nell slowed her pace a bit, not looking forward to returning, once again, to the multi-family little hovel her parents called a house.

O---O

William was just coming to the corner where he'd have to cross the street when he saw her. Standing at the edge of the curb was a short, rather plump young woman with very dark hair and an expression of irritation on her face. Her coat was slightly ratty, but she seemed to have attached some sort of fur to the collar. And for some unknown reason, there was what looked to be a seagull feather stuck decoratively into the band of her hat.

He was about to just tip his hat and walk past when he noticed that she was staring down at the cobblestones. Whatever was down there seemed to be the source of her irritation. William looked, and saw that there was a rather large, dirty puddle in the street in front of her. For a moment he stood, thinking, then decided to go ahead and be a gentleman.

"Excuse me, but are you having trouble?" William asked, touching the brim of his hat and keeping a respectable distance. The young woman jumped a bit when he addressed her, but quickly composed herself again. When she turned and met his eyes, William felt what could only be described as a kind of thunk somewhere in his middle. Must have been that day-old salmon I had at lunch, he thought. Though the young woman was attractive, in an odd sort of way—maybe it had something to do with the way she was carrying herself. There was a definite...air about her, in the way she held her shoulders back and kept her chin up, pulling herself up to full height—which, William noticed with some amusement, wasn't very much. The top of her hat just came past his shoulder. He'd have to be a hunched-over old man to be roughly the same height she was.

"I should say I am!" the young woman replied. Pointing down at the puddle, she continued, "Look at this! Stretching from the corner to halfway down the street. You'd think there'd be someone to take care of messes like this, even if this neighborhood ain't exactly Saville Row."

"You could walk around it," William offered in a sensible tone. The suggestion was met with a huff.

"That isn't the point, is it?" the young woman said. "The point is that it's in my way, and I am not the sort of person who should be confronted with big messy puddles on my way home!"

This girl was certainly a little on the excitable side. Loud, too. Nonetheless, William began to take off his overcoat.

"Puddles are certainly an eyesore," he replied, not quite sure where those words had come from. But the young woman nodded her agreement, crossing her arms over her chest. Which was quite a feat, actually, but William tried not to notice that.

Instead, he pulled off his overcoat and spread it over the worst of the puddle. "May I?" he asked, extending a hand politely. She paused for a moment, looking from his hand to the now sodden overcoat and back again. Then she gave herself a little shake, apparently making up her mind. With an almost regal, snobbish air placed the tips of her fingers lightly in his palm, and daintily stepped across the puddle, driving William's coat even further into the dirty water.

As soon as she was securely on the dry cobblestones, she said, "My shoes still got a little wet. I hope I haven't ruined'em. Oh well, at least you tried." With a curt nod, she turned and went on her way.

"You're welcome," William said to himself. He looked down at his coat, which was lying limply in the puddle. With a shrug, he decided to just leave it there. He had another one at home. Instead of starting off on his own way again, as he'd fully intended to do, William found himself looking at the young woman's retreating back.

Surely, he thought, it's not right of me to let her just walk off alone. It's almost dark. Starting off at a quick trot, he soon managed to catch up with her.

"Do let me see you home," William said, panting just slightly. He wasn't used to running about, even short distances.

"Why?" she asked, immediately sounding suspicious. "I haven't got any money on me, so if you're looking for a tip for a moment ago--"

"No, no, I was glad to help. It's simply that it's getting dark, and you probably shouldn't be walking by yourself." William was surprised at himself. Why in the world did he care? Women walked about by themselves all the time in this part of town. Although, he realized, those women would be the sort to walk through puddles, too.

"Suit yourself," the woman replied. So they walked on, side by side, keeping their silence. They were getting into the most run-down section of the village, William noticed. His own house wasn't all that much better, but still...

"My name is William, by the by," he said at length, feeling he should try to make conversation.

"I'm Nell," she replied.

"Nell," William repeated. He was about to ask one of those stupid questions designed to prolong conversations (along the lines of, "Is that short for Eleanor?"), when Nell stopped walking.

"Something the matter?" William asked, noticing the look on her face. Nell regarded him for a moment, then crossed her arms over her chest again.

"I've just thought," she said, "is it really proper for you to be seeing me home? Only the lowest classes would go walking with someone they just met. I really don't think this sort of thing would be accepted in the best circles."

What an odd remark, William thought. Then, amazing himself, he replied, "Oh, I'm sure it's fine. Everyone in Paris is doing it, I've heard...walking about with strange men, I mean." Where had that come from? Why had he even bothered to say such an outlandish thing?

Nevertheless, Nell seemed intrigued. "Paris? You don't say?" she said, obviously thinking it over. "You know, all the best of everything goes on in Paris. They make smashing hats over there."

"Oh, I know," William replied. This whole situation was rather fun, in a weird way. And really, so was she.

William's little fib had obviously worked, because Nell fell into step beside him again. Soon enough, they were outside a slightly shabby multi-family house. The lamps were lit inside—it was already quite dark. He saw her up to the door, and watched as she pulled the door open before turning back to him.

"Well, thank you, I suppose," she said, affecting an imitation upper-class tone. With that, she made to enter her house. William tipped his hat again, and then started down the walk. But something made him stop and turn around.

"Do you buy fish?" William found himself asking. Nell had been halfway through the door, and the question made her turn toward him again. He just stood there, leaning on his walking stick, wondering what in the world he was doing.

"Not if I can help it," Nell replied huffily, looking down the length of her nose at him. "Though sometimes Mother forces me to go to the fish stall in the market. I do wish we had a manservant to deal with such things," she added with a gusty sigh.

"Well, I work there," he told her. Nell paused, and William thought he saw a brief flicker of recognition in her eyes. But she quickly covered it with a coolness that she obviously believed to be quite couture.

"How nice for you," she replied. And with that, she entered the house, latching the door behind her and leaving a slightly dazed William out on the walk.

O---O

"Was that William Van Dort walking you home?" Nell's mother asked the minute Nell was through the door. "Finally, you've decided to bring home a husband!" She should have known her mother would say something like that. In this part of town, if a man walked you home, you were practically engaged.

"Husband?" Nell asked witheringly. "William Van Dort? You are assuredly joking." William Van Dort. She'd thought she'd seen him somewhere before. Of course, she couldn't really be bothered with the comings and goings of those in trade. Nell took off her coat and hat, completely ignoring her mother's look. Much to her dismay, she noticed that the seagull feather she'd stuck into the band of her hat had come rather loose. All the society women she'd seen had feathers in their hats. Seagull, ostrich—what was the difference, really, as long as it was a feather? Sighing, she hung the slightly damaged hat on its peg and regarded it for a moment. Even when coming apart, it was head and shoulders above the headwear of the rest of her family. Satisfied with that thought, Nell headed past the tiny pantry near the front door and into the only marginally bigger kitchen, her mother at her heels.

Nell's father was already at the table. Obviously, he'd heard the little conversation that had just transpired—it was hard to miss, considering both his proximity to the front door from the kitchen and the loud tones in which his wife and daughter usually spoke.

"So you're going to marry William Van Dort, are you?" he asked, looking up from his pathetic little supper. "It's about time we got you off our hands. You don't even need to bother bringing him round to ask me. I give my complete blessing." Nell rolled her eyes. He'd heard the conversation, all right, but he obviously hadn't been listening.

"He's a fishmonger," Nell said staunchly. "Completely lower-middle-class. And he's a good fifteen years older than I am, if he's a day. His hair's already going gray. What would I want with him?"

"Lower-middle-class?" her father repeated, barely suppressing a chuckle. "I've got news for you, dear. You're in the exact same boat. Quit aiming so high and putting on airs."

Just as a shocked and insulted Nell was drawing a breath to retort, her mother interrupted in a pained, impatient tone.

"Nell, you can't be so picky! You keep scaring all of the men your own age away. We'll never get you married off at this rate. I tell you, go for William Van Dort—he's going places."

"He sells fish." Did her parents have potatoes growing in their ears or something?

"He'll be rich," her mother was quick to reply. "Once his pa kicks off, and he's got the reins...Mark my words, if you become Mrs. Van Dort, you'll be a rich woman one day!"

That got Nell's attention. Despite the fact that her mother was woefully low on the social ladder, she was rather astute, and always up-to-date with the gossip of the lower classes. Maybe she had a point—Nell remembered hearing somewhere that there were plans in the works to start a cannery in the village. Was that William's idea? William Van Dort was hardly gentry, but he had a job. He'd own his father's business one day, and get rich doing it. He had all of his teeth too, which was a plus. Just from that short walk they'd taken, she could tell that he was nice and quiet, reliable, and at least had the sense to act like a gentleman. Throw in a good head for business—yes, with a bit of training, he'd make an excellent husband. As long as she didn't have to wait around too long for all that money to come rolling in, she'd be fine. And so Nell was decided.

She was going to be Mrs. William Van Dort.

O---O

"I've got some news," William informed his friend Thomas one day about three weeks after he'd bumped into Nell on the street. Thomas worked on one of the fishing boats that William's father owned, and the two of them were old school chums as well as workmates. Actually, Thomas was Nell's neighbor, of sorts—when William had mentioned the girl he'd met, Thomas had recognized her as the girl who, not so very long ago, had convinced Thomas's younger sister to be her lady's maid. The reason being that since his sister was only six at the time, she was wonderfully cheap. William had rather liked that story, actually. It certainly sounded like Nell.

"Can you walk as you tell me?" Thomas replied, gesturing down the street. "I've got to be home soon, or my wife will have my head."

"Funny you should mention wives," William said as they started walking. Tapping his walking stick on the cobblestones in time with his step, he went on, "I'm getting married."

"About time you joined in the happy misery of matrimony," Thomas replied, and William chuckled. Thomas talked a good game, but William knew that he was absolutely besotted with his wife. "If I may, who's to be the new Mrs. Van Dort?"

"Nell," William replied. "Miss Nell...er..." he paused for a moment. "You know, I don't think I ever asked what her last name is." Odd, really. They'd gone for a number of short walks together over the past three weeks, and William had never thought to ask Nell what her family name was. Granted, that could have been because Nell usually did most of the talking, mostly local society gossip that she'd managed to cull from newspapers and lengthy indictments of the lower-middle-class. William found her terribly amusing and actually quite mellow once in a while. Once in a great while, but still. Those moments were there.

There was a brief pause, and then Thomas looked at William sideways. "Don't take this the wrong way," he said carefully, "but that Nell is an absolute nightmare. Pushy, overbearing, and a social-climber to boot. No offense meant, of course."

"Of course," William replied, a bit sardonically. "But the fact remains that I'm not getting any younger. I'd rather not be a life-long bachelor."

"Don't tell me you're considering marriage just because you're desperate to have someone cook and keep house for you."

"Cook and keep house?" William repeated. Now it was his turn to give a sideways look. "And here I thought you had a good handle on Nell's character. My giddy aunt, I expect she'll hire a servant just as quick as can be."

"Well, then, why else would...Oh, no!" Thomas said, stopping in his tracks. It took William a moment to realize that he was no longer walking next to him, so he had to turn around and walk back to meet his friend.

"You're not...you don't love her, do you?" Thomas asked. William decided to give his friend the benefit of the doubt and pretend that he didn't look as though he were going to be ill.

"I wouldn't say love, exactly," William said, considering. He twirled his walking stick about for a moment. "But I am quite fond of her. She's not like any other woman I've ever met."

"That's probably because she's not a woman. She's a harpy."

"Now, now," William replied. "Granted, Nell is rather...difficult. But I'm sure there's something underneath. Deep down, there must be something sweet about her. Besides, perhaps I could be of help in, I don't know...reining her in a bit."

"Make her less harpy-like, you mean."

"That's one way to put it. And will you stop using the word 'harpy'? That's my fiancée you're talking about."

"So it's all settled, then?"

"Actually," William said, "not quite. I'm off to propose this evening." He wasn't going to say so out loud, but he was rather sure that Nell would say yes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was rather sure that he was the first man who'd ever had such intentions toward Nell. Probably because not a lot of other men had William's kind of patience.

"You seem determined," Thomas said, beginning to walk again. William fell into step beside him. "I suppose all I can say is good luck, and better you than me."

"Thanks ever so," William replied. They continued walking in silence until they reached Thomas's front door. He only lived a few houses away from Nell—William could be at Nell's house within minutes, and then get down to business. Just as William was about to walk on, Thomas turned around, his hand on the doorknob.

"I think you're signing yourself up for some real trouble, friend," Thomas told him. "But after all, marriage is the prison sentence awaiting us all, and you might as well get it over. And I will say this for Nell," here Thomas leaned forward a bit and lowered his voice. "She may be brassy, obnoxious, and self-centered, but she's got a balcony that you could perform an aria from."

William grinned crookedly. "That didn't escape me. I consider it a bonus." And with a tip of his hat, William was off down the street.

O---O

"Go walking? This time of day?" Nell asked dubiously. The moment William had arrived she'd ushered him inside, even though he didn't intend to stay. In Nell's opinion, only plebes stood talking out on the stoop. And since Nell's house was quite lacking in the way of grand receiving rooms, the tiny closet/pantry off of the kitchen had to do. The sounds of Nell's family sitting down to their supper could plainly be heard, as could various noises from the upstairs and next door tenants.

Turning his hat over in his hand and trying not to bump his head on the ham shoulders that hung from the low ceiling, William said, "Oh, it's perfectly proper. Why, not two days ago I saw Lady Van Groot out walking at this time of day." It was an easy lie. After all, he knew Nell well enough now to know what would get her going.

It worked like a charm, just as he knew it would. Immediately Nell's eyes lit up. "Was she wearing a nice hat?" she asked.

"A lovely hat."

"Yes, her sort wears nice hats when they go out walking," Nell nodded. For whatever reason, that seemed to make up her mind. "Let's be off, then," she said, and almost yanked William's arm out of its socket in leading him out of the pantry.

O---O

"Nell, we've known each other for some time now, and I'd like to discuss something with you."

They'd been walking their usual route—round the block a few times near Nell's house, and they'd paused at the street corner where they'd met. William thought it a fitting place.

"Is this more about your can idea for your father's fish market?" William had shared his plans for the family business with Nell about a week ago. It had been one of the rare occasions that she'd encouraged him to talk. In fact, that single conversation had made up William's mind about proposing. Lately it had seemed that most of Nell's continuous talking had to do with society marriages, betrothals, the size of this or that new house, and what type of furniture the local gentry had in their drawing rooms. William had intuited, rightly or wrongly, that he was supposed to take these fascinations as a hint. Right now, it appeared that he might have been mistaken.

"Uh, no," he replied, wondering how to steer the conversation in the proper direction. "But I suppose we could talk about that if you like..."

"I think it's a marvelous idea. Guaranteed to make you a rich man."

"Thank you, I hope it will--"

"And you're sure you'll be able to put that plan into action?"

"Well, you see, my father isn't all that--"

"Oh, I see it now. You've got to wait for the codger to kick off."

"Er, not in so many words...Listen, though, Nell—I have something I want to ask you."

"Old, is he?" Nell asked, ignoring him completely. "How long do you think it'll be?"

"Huh? I haven't any idea. Nell, I--"

"How big is your house at the moment?" William was only waylaid a moment by the abrupt change of topic.

"Eh, fairly big," he replied with a shrug. "Modest, really, but nothing too shabby." Suddenly William realized that this was a great opening. So he took off his hat and asked boldly, "Would you like to live there?" Nell's eyes widened.

"Of course, that's why I asked," she informed him, sounding as though she was refraining from calling him an utter twit. "We're getting married, after all."

William cocked an eyebrow ever so slightly. "I...didn't ask you yet," he said slowly. Nell waved that off as unimportant.

"Really, that's just a formality," she said. "Granted, I'll want a ring and all that, and you will have to put a proper announcement in the paper—oh, one like the one that the present Lady Onderdonk had two weeks ago would be fine."

"Onderdonk?" William asked, dazed. Nell seemed to be finished for the moment, giving him a chance to think. He decided to make sure that he'd been following the conversation correctly. On impulse, he reached over and took Nell's hand.

"Then we're getting married?" he asked, quite unnecessarily. Nell stared down at their hands.

"Of course we are. You think I'd waste my time going walking with you if we weren't?" she replied huffily. "And let go of my hand. Public displays are terribly inappropriate and common."

Immediately William dropped her hand. Instead, he took her elbow as they started walking again, running the risk of being reprimanded. But Nell didn't seem to have a problem with it.

"When shall it be?" William asked, quite unsure of where to go with planning now that the proposal was out of the way.

"Next Tuesday," Nell answered immediately. William looked down at her, surprised.

"Next Tuesday?"

"Yes. That's when the Duke's wedding is planned for, and I want to get married on the same day. It could be some of their guests will stay for our wedding."

"Ah," William said. He should have guessed. "All right then. Next Tuesday it is." They walked in silence for a while. Bachelorhood is at an end, William thought. It didn't really bother him. Still, he couldn't help but think that he just might be in over his head with Nell. He was sure that she wasn't in love with him, and he was reasonably sure that he wasn't in love with her. But doubtless, everything would be fine—they had quite similar ambitions, and that was really all that mattered. Maybe some sort of odd affection could be worked out between them in later years. Who knew?

"By the way, Nell," William said, as they headed up the steps toward her front stoop. "It occurred to me recently to ask--" Before he could finish, she cut him off.

"I think I know, and I've got your answer," she said. Shaking a finger at him, she said seriously, "You get one child, and that's it." William gaped for a moment, blinking.

"Er, all right," he finally managed to reply. "But my question had nothing to do with that."

"What is it, then? And hurry up, my feet are freezing."

"Just that, since we're engaged and all..." Nell nodded impatiently, and he quickly finished,

"What's your last name?"