A/N: Woo! Another chapter! Things are fun now, not the previous transition time. Thank you for all the support! I hope you enjoy! Please review.
Chapter Thirteen
"Do you two know each other?"
Jackson pulled his eyes away from the green to look at the woman who had just spoken. She leaned back in her cushioned chair, still managing to look regal despite the slouched position. Steel eyes glared out over high cheeks. Her skin tied taunt over her face; her ebony curls collected loosely on top of her head. She had her fingers draped under her chin as she stared at him thoughtfully.
Mrs. Gooding, he presumed.
He was proven correct as Mr. Black stepped out in front of him and said, "Madame, allow me to present to you my cousin."
"Yes, Mr. Overland I take it," she snipped, waving her hand flippantly at the inky man. "He has yet to answer my question. I am waiting."
"Yes, Aunt," Mr. Haddock spoke up as he sat down on the couch near a young woman unknown to Jackson.
"I was not speaking to you."
"You didn't address either of us specifically," he responded.
She huffed at his impetuousness.
Mrs. Black acted as peacekeeper as she swooped in to present her bouquet to the proud woman. "A gift, Madame. They are the flowers from those bulbs you gave use—well, Mr. Black this past spring. They grew quite beautiful. Your advice on how to deal with the worms worked quite splendidly. It's only right for you to enjoy them as well before the cold finally takes them."
The woman took the flowers, her fingers smoothing a few of the petals. "Yes, of course it did. I know a bit about flowers. Never underestimate my knowledge. Rose, dear, find a vase for these," she said handing them off to the young woman."
"Yes, Mama," she said as she stood and took the flowers and breathed in their scent.
"Rose, don't smell the flowers; you know how they aggravate your allergies."
"Yes, Mama."
Jackson watched as she turned away to fulfill her mother's wish. She was handsome enough. Her nose was a prominent feature, quickly followed by her wild blonde hair that appeared to be strangled into the tight braided bun. She had her mother's eyes, but they weren't as harsh.
"Where are my manners," Mrs. Gooding said. "Mrs. Black, this is my dear nephew Mr. Haddock."
"Yes, Madame, I met him several months ago."
"Oh?"
"Yes. It's charming to see you again, Mrs. Black. I congratulate you on your recent marriage," the gentleman in question said quickly.
"Yes, thank you," she responded.
"Hm. Well, do not tell me you already know Colonel Ingerman, my other nephew."
Jackson raised his eyebrows as he turned to look at the soldier he had failed to notice before—he never did have the eye for a red coat as Mary did. A fine tailored suit— His throat closed briefly before he pulled his mind from that train of thought. Instead, he chose to focus on the surprisingly baby faced man in front of him. Perhaps it was only because of his filled out body; either way, his face looked strange on top of the uniform underneath the mop of straw-like hair.
The Colonel bowed. "A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Black."
"Same to you, Colonel Ingerman."
"And Mr. Overland," Madame Gooding cut in, taking charge of the conversation again as her daughter walked back into the room and placed the recently vased flowers on a small table. "This is my daughter, Ms. Rose Gooding."
"Pleasure, Mr. Overland," she said, seeming tired of his name but quickly perked up. "You knew of my cousin when he—"
"Rose, dear, do not ask bothersome questions. Speak only when it will contribute to conversation. No need to appear too forward," her mother reprimanded her. "Think of how that would reflect back on me."
"Sorry, Mama," the young woman said as she returned to her seat next to Mr. Haddock.
As the Blacks sat down together on a couch and Colonel Ingerman retreated back to his chair, Jackson took the only chair left in the spacious sitting room.
For such a large area to converse, there's hardly any place where it's comfortable to do so, especially with a large party, he thought as he looked around. Though, large parties might be uncommon. With her personality that wouldn't seem so surprising.
"So tell me, Mr. Overland, about your sisters." Mrs. Gooding's question pulled him from his thoughts.
He blinked to focus on the multiple pairs of eyes that were now directed at him. The young Mr. Overland darted his eyes away the steadfast green before speaking. "Well, Madame, Emma is currently in Corona with our aunt and uncle for some time away from the house. Sarah and Mary are—"
"Mary is the youngest?"
"Yes."
"Wasn't she at the ball your friend held just before he left?" she questioned her nephew.
"Yes."
She turned back to Jackson, her eyes flashing. "You mean to tell me that the youngest is out before the eldest is married?"
"Yes, but—"
"Inexcusable. In my day such a thing would not be tolerated. It still should not be so. But, let us move on. What do you intend to do? What are your fields of interest?"
"I have none as of now. I enjoy getting laughs, but I have no plans for my future. I prefer going wherever the wind takes me. "
Her sharp eyes darted to Mr. Black. "I am pleased then that you did not marry one of the Overland girls. For if they are all like their brother, I fear for the future of that family. I am glad I have no relation to it. Dear Jennifer, how about some music? I would ask my dear Rose to play, but I fear she is too sickly."
"Mother, I'm perfectly fine," her daughter muttered under her breath, crossing her arms and slouching into her seat.
"Speak up," the Madame hissed. "You know how I feel about the mumbling and sit tall. Honestly, I have taught you better."
"I'm afraid, Mrs. Gooding, that I am unable to play decently. Jack—Mr. Overland, however, is quite accomplished in that field," Mrs. Black cut in.
Steel eyes flashed towards the young man. "You play? How unbecoming of a gentleman. Surely you jest? It is a woman's talent not a man's."
Mr. Overland swallowed his anger and replied evenly, "I find it a great deal of fun. It amuses others, and I never tire of the look of surprise on the faces of old ladies when they hear of my talent."
The older woman spluttered. "What?" she scoffed. "Do you sing as well?"
"If you so desire my voice, I'd hate to deny you the pleasure," he replied cordially with a smirk.
She huffed. "Piano alone will do quite well; I have had more than enough of your voice."
"Very well, Madame."
The young Mr. Overland stood, straightening his waist coat as he made his way to the piano at the corner of the room. Flipping his coattails out behind him, he sat down at the bench and picked up the music book. His eyes grazed over the titles until he found one he recognized. Jackson placed the book on the stand and set his fingers on the keys.
As the music rolled out from the instrument at his finger's insistence, the chatter rose up again in the sitting room. He quickly approached the last bar of the sheet and prepared himself to reach up and flip the page as he memorized the final measure; however, a body leaned over his shoulder as fingers pinched the corner of the page. A soft, "I've got it," fell on his ear.
Jackson gave a brief nod and Mr. Haddock turned the page, allowing him to continue playing seamlessly. The gentleman stood straight and stepped to the side of the piano; his green eyes flickering between the player and the music. He always managed to watch him completely, somehow knowing when the page needed to be turned and only then looking away to do so before his eyes were back on his face.
The player gritted his teeth and played on, focusing on the notes and his fingers and not the eyes staring so intently. He was so focused on play that he missed Mrs. Gooding attempting to speak to him.
"Sorry, Madame," he apologized as he halted his playing. "I had believed you wished me to play; you were curious how a man could possess such a talent."
"Clearly it is not a well groomed talent, seeing as you can hardly play and participate in conversation."
"I had been under the impression you were tired of my voice. Wouldn't conversation only perpetuate the agony that you were so desperate to avoid?"
"Hm." Her piercing eyes shot to Mr. Black. "Yes, I am quite glad you didn't settle for an Overland; far too mouthy for my tastes. Jennifer, though, is perfect: sweetly obedient. You chose wisely."
"I would not have been able to make such a wise choice if Mr. Overland had not allowed me to see reason over—well, my personal preference."
"I suppose he has been useful."
"Pardon me, Madame, but is this conversation solely about me or am I expected to contribute? If the former, it would please me to keep playing."
She waved a jeweled hand in dismissal as she turned to tell Mrs. Black of the recent hair treatments that had made their way over from the Orientals.
Shaking his head, Jackson turned back to face the piano. The music book was gone and in Mr. Haddock's hand as he searched the pages. After a moment, he smoothed the fine parchment and set it back on the stand.
"Perhaps this song?" he suggested.
"Quite a positive outlook on love, wouldn't you say?" Jackson asked with an arched brow. He reached forward and shifted the pages until he settled on another song. "I feel this is a more accurate portrayal of such a thing."
"'O Waly, Waly*'?" he questioned. "A rather dreary outlook, wouldn't you say?" he countered. "Do you truly feel like that towards such affections?"
"I have been given no reason to assume another is true," Mr. Overland replied.
"What are you two speaking of?" Mrs. Gooding cut in. "I thought I would be receiving some gentle music and instead my ears are assaulted with idle chatter behind my back. What are you saying? Come, tell your aunt."
"We were only debating our personal music preference," Mr. Haddock said. "I apologize for the intrusion."
"Hm. Yes. Now, come over here, dear. It's been too long; I wish to speak with you."
The gentleman opened his mouth to protest, but she raised her hand. "I'm sure Mr. Overland can turn the pages himself, can you not? He does have such a special talent."
"Yes, Madame," he answered.
"Good."
A servant stepped through the doors and stopped at her arm. He leaned down and whispered in her ear.
"Hm. Well, it appears as if dinner is ready. I fear we will not be able to further enjoy your talent, Mr. Overland."
*'O Waly, Waly' is what the song would have been titled in the odd approximated late 18th century that I set this story in. Nowadays, it's commonly known as 'The Water is Wide'. It's one of my favorite folks songs, closely followed by Scarborough Fair and Early One Morning (I debated on using both but I decided going with this one). They are several versions of this song; I suggest listening to one, or two, or several. Haley Westenra has my favorite version—that one entitled 'The Water is Wide'. If you go the 'O Waly, Waly' route Nana Mouskouri has a nice version as well. I'd also suggest her version of 'Early One Morning'. Any Buffy fans reading this will recognize it as Spike's trigger song in Season 7. And while I'm at it, for 'Scarborough Fair' check out the Simon & Garfunkel and Celtic Woman versions.
Also, the piano isn't technically what he would be playing. It would be the piano forte or fortepiano, whichever way you prefer. I just figured it'd be easier to use plain 'ol "piano".
This has been a long note, so I'll stop now.