Prompt: "You mean, you might actually consider marrying my brother?"

A/N: This is a little longer than I had intended! Also a little change of pace. Enjoy!

"Have you made your decision, Dear?"

A young woman, dressed in a gown of fine silk, swished back and forth across her father's office, shaking her head as she folded her arms stubbornly.

"You know what I think, Father. He is far too old!"

Doctor Mitchell frowned as he looked up from his papers. "Too old, too fat, too forward, too stoic… you are never happy!" He shook his head. "Rebeca, I know you maintain that you wish to marry for love, but you are nineteen. Soon, you will be labelled a spinster... if not already!"

Beca sighed, pushing her dark hair back from her forehead in exasperation. "If I am to spend the rest of my life with someone, I MUST marry for love, Father."

"Yet, you refused to see any of the suitors your mother wished to invite to call upon you." Doctor Mitchell got up and pointed at his daughter. "I am sorry, Rebeca, but if you have not accepted a marriage proposal in this next three months' time, I will be forced to choose for you. I will NOT have my daughter being the talk and pity of New York!"

Beca sighed again and looked at the floor dejectedly. "Yes, Father."

There was a sudden knock at the door and the butler stepped into the room. "Excuse me, Doctor Mitchell, Miss Mitchell. Dinner will be served in thirty minutes."

Beca nodded. "Thank you, Daniel. Excuse me, Father, I must change."

"Of course," Doctor Mitchell replied. "That will be all, thank you, Daniel."

As Beca followed the butler out of the room and then turned to climb the staircase toward her bedroom, a great pain rose in her chest. She knew she could no longer put off the inevitable. She would have to choose a husband or be saddled with one she may not even like, let alone be able to love over time.

She met her lady's maid at the door to her bedchamber and gave her an aggrieved look as they crossed the threshold together. "I assume that did not go well?" Ellen asked.

Beca closed her eyes and sighed. "He has given me a period of three months to choose a husband."

"Inconvenient," the older woman chuckled. "But I think you must start with letting your mother invite potential suitors to meet you. Just pick a man who is pleasant to look at, bear him a child and then live your life separately, should you wish to."

"Like my parents, you mean?" Beca replied, somewhat bitterly. "That is exactly what I wish to AVOID, Ellen. I want to be a partner, not a trophy."

"All wives are trophies," Ellen advised. "I'm sorry to ruin your idealism, but few marriages are born of love, Miss Mitchell."

"Ellen, how many times have I asked you to call me Beca?"

The older woman smiled. "That would not be proper, Miss Mitchell."

A return smile rose to the brunette's face and her shoulders relaxed as she let her maid undo the buttons of her dress and lower it from her petite body. "Do not you think that, in this day and age, all this frivolity should be done away with? I am fully capable of dressing myself. I am also fully capable of going out into the world and finding a..." The word faltered on her lips. "Husband. But no, my mother thinks she is the only one who can do that for me." She frowned. "What if I don't want a husband... what if I want..." She faltered again and looked down, biting her lip anxiously.

Ellen patted her shoulder softly. "Easy now, Miss Mitchell. You know what's said in this room stays in this room."

Dark blue eyes lifted and Beca swallowed hard. She needed to talk, and she'd known Ellen since her early childhood. Who else could she trust? "What if I wanted... a female companion?"

The maid smiled a little as she buttoned up the new dress. "While I commend your knowing what you would prefer, Miss Mitchell, that life is a difficult one." She paused her hands' work and looked down. "I should know."

Beca quickly turned, surprise etched across her features. "You are...?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Confidentially, the woman with whom I live is not my cousin. She is my lover of many years."

The brunette nodded, a small smile lifting her lips. "And does she make you happy, Ellen?"

"Immeasurably," the maid replied with a soft smile. "But this way of life comes with challenges, Miss Mitchell. In public, we cannot be seen as anything more than cousins."

Beca nodded again and then started to fidget as the dinner bell sounded. "Thank you for sharing that with me. I assure you it will remain in confidence. You have indeed given me much to think about."

"Yes, Ma'am," Ellen replied as she finished the last button and then draped a silk shawl over her charge's shoulders. "And thank YOU for trusting me."

Xx

It was almost humorous, Beca mused, as she sat in the parlor with her mother, awaiting another suitor's arrival. She felt a little like a cow being paraded in front of a market of buyers, even though, more accurately, the suitors were parading themselves in front of her.

She'd seen three already that day and three the day before. None of them had caught her eye, but she felt more open to perusing, now that she had an enforced timeline to live up to. The parlor door opened then, and the housekeeper, Mrs. Jones, ducked inside. "Mr. Jonathan Beale to see you, Ma'ams..." She glanced back over her shoulder. "Accompanied by his sister, Miss Chloe Beale."

Beca and her mother exchanged a raised eyebrow look but both simultaneously rose from their chairs.

"Please see them in," Mrs. Mitchell replied and then smiled broadly as a young man in an impeccably tailored coat and breeches, entered the room. Immediately after him entered a woman, maybe a little older than Beca, dressed in a fine, dark blue gown which revealed a daring view of pale cleavage.

The three ladies curtseyed, and the gentleman bowed.

"Mr. Beale, Miss Beale, welcome to our home," Mrs. Mitchell said, indicating for them to take a seat.

But Beca was suddenly frozen in place when ocean blue eyes lifted to meet hers from across the low table. Miss Beale was, quite frankly, the most beautiful woman Beca had ever seen. Soft, red waves cascaded neatly from under her hat and her skin was flawless porcelain, even in the harsh sunlight streaming in through the window. Beca half-knew Mr. Beale had said something but couldn't for the life of her remember what it had been.

"And it is my utmost pleasure to make your acquaintance," Miss Beale said. Her voice was soft, and her eyes never left Beca's, even as she removed her hat. She glanced at the housekeeper with a smile as she placed the hat in her hands. "Thank you." But her eyes immediately moved back to Beca as her brother remained standing, waiting for all the ladies to sit.

It seemed like time was frozen between the two young women but then Mrs. Mitchell cleared her throat. "Let us all sit, shall we? Mrs. Jones, some tea please."

The housekeeper smiled. "Of course, Ma'am." She took her leave as Beca and Miss Beale finally took their seats.

"Thank you for seeing me at such short notice," Mr. Beale said with a smile as he perched on the edge of a chair. "I am in New York for only three days for business and my sister insisted upon coming along. We will return to Florida tomorrow."

"Florida?" Beca exclaimed, suddenly pulled out of her reverie. "You live in Florida?"

"Actually," Miss Beale said with a smile. "We spend summers in Tampa, near to our grandparents. But most of the year, we live in New York. I was simply missing city life and thought it would be agreeable to spend a few days with friends."

Beca understood that. She did not think full-time country living would be for her.

"Indeed," Mrs. Mitchell replied. "I suppose a few days of bustle can be a relief from an extended vacation, if one is bored."

Miss Beale inclined her head in acknowledgement but remained quiet. Beca couldn't look away from the small scar indenting the skin of her forehead and wondered how she had received it.

"So," Mr. Beale continued, unabashedly. "I am in the market for a wife, and I had heard that there was a beautiful young woman who was seeking a husband? I am good husband material; I can most certainly assure you."

Beca's eyes moved to him, and she tilted her head. "And is it your opinion, since you referred to a market, that women are merely livestock to be bought and sold? What price would you pay for me, Mr. Beale?"

Mrs. Mitchell gasped in shock at her daughter's forwardness, but a little amused sound escaped Miss Beale's throat as her eyes met the younger woman's again.

Beca could not stop herself from smiling mischievously at her.

"While I did not mean to offend, Miss Mitchell," the man said seriously. "I would be willing to pay a hefty price for someone of your..." His eyes roamed her a little. "Feisty beauty."

"Jon," Miss Beale admonished. "Remember your manners."

The man rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "I did not mention that Chloe is my older sister and censor. But I apologize, Miss Mitchell, I can assure you that I have the utmost respect for women. My sister would stand for nothing less and has taught me well." He smiled brightly and Beca found herself beginning to like him. He had red hair like his sister, and his eyes were very similar in color and shape to hers too.

"What of your parents?" Mrs. Mitchell asked. "Are they in Tampa too, as we speak?"

"Oh... no, Ma'am," Miss Beale replied. "Our parents are no longer with us, I'm afraid. It is just Jon and I."

"I am greatly sorry," Beca said softly, and the redhead looked down, biting her bottom lip as a little sad smile lifted them.

"You are most kind, Miss Mitchell." Miss Beale lifted her eyes then, shimmering blue meeting the brunette's again.

A wave of... something... moved through Beca and she suddenly felt a little short of breath, but she cleared her throat and forced her eyes back to Mr. Beale. "Perhaps... you could tell me a little more about yourself. Mr. Beale?"

Miss Beale smiled and accepted a cup of tea as her brother launched into his enthusiastic diatribe, but Beca smiled as she listened. The young man was spirited and funny and she found herself genuinely liking him. He was tall and handsome, well-built but slender and of a similar age. Perhaps this match, she mused, could have some potential.

Xx

Once again it was strange, Beca mused, that sitting in a parlor drinking tea could seem like such a chore. She had waited upon twelve gentleman callers over the previous three days, and she had found no gentleman more suitable than Mr. Jonathan Beale of New York and Tampa, Florida. She looked down at the gilded calling card he had left her and then pinched the bridge of her nose as she wondered what she should do.

Beca knew her father would be very happy that she had found a potential match so soon, so, to make sure that Mr. Beale was not actually an ogre, she wrote a short note and asked for one of the maids to deliver it into his hand at his house a few streets away. To her surprise, he responded immediately that he would call upon her shortly. True to his word, fifteen minutes after she'd finished reading his note, he arrived in a small chaise and pair.

The brunette was heartily disappointed to see that he was alone. "Mr. Beale," she said as she curtseyed at his entrance into the parlor. "I am happy to see you, however, I am dismayed that your sister has not joined you. How is Miss Beale?"

The man frowned a little. "I am sorry to say that my sister is under the weather, Miss Mitchell, and did not feel up to visiting with me today. Good day, Mrs. Mitchell." Beca's mother smiled from the seat in the corner where she was sewing and trying to be inconspicuous.

"And I am sorry to hear such sad news." Beca indicated that he should take a seat. "Thank you for calling upon me, Mr. Beale. I know you will return to Tampa tomorrow, and I wished to meet you again before you did."

"Oh?" The man smiled and leaned on the arm of his chair. "I was not sure I had made a good enough impression upon you yesterday. Chloe scolded me greatly for my lack of manners, in the carriage on the way home. I apparently have many shortcomings and my rear end is still suffering from her wrath."

The brunette couldn't help but laugh and she thought the young man to be both jovial and slightly cheeky. She wondered if Chloe had the same traits of personality. Beca suspected she did.

"You made a perfectly adequate impression, Mr. Beale. You were invited back, were you not?" she teased.

"Indeed I was!" Mr. Beale chuckled. "And I must say I am very happy to have been. Miss Mitchell, I sense that you are a woman who values honesty and does not beat around the bush."

"Yes, that is true," Beca agreed.

"Good." Mr. Mitchell got up and tugged his coat straight. "Permit me to say then, that I had heard a lot about you, but when I saw you… even the best of things I heard paled in comparison to your actual presence. I would like to get to know you better, Miss Mitchell, with a view to coming to an understanding." His eyes lowered almost shyly. "An understanding that you and I should be betrothed sometime in the hopefully near future."

Beca tilted her head a little. "I greatly appreciate your sentiments, Mr. Beale, and I quite agree that we should get to know each other better. However, frankly, I am worried about your sister. Would you permit me to visit her? I would feel much better for having seen her myself."

Mr. Beale beamed a smile. "I am sure she would appreciate a visit from you. I could tell yesterday that she liked you. And perhaps, Miss Mitchell, you would stay for dinner? I am also thinking that, should Chloe not recover in time, perhaps we would extend our stay by a few more days."

Beca stood up suddenly. "I think I must call upon her immediately. Would you accompany me, Sir?"

The man sprang to his feet and nodded. "Of course, Miss Mitchell. It would be my honor to escort you."

"Excellent. We shall go then." Mrs. Mitchell cleared her throat noisily as she continued to focus on her sewing. Beca barely refrained from rolling her eyes. "We shall bring my ladies' maid with us."

"Of course," Mr. Beale replied with a smile.

Xx

Chloe was feeling quite unwell. A cold had snuck up on her, and her doctor had relegated her to bed rest with a nasty cough and a slight fever. Her ladies' maid had been bringing her a continuous stream of hot tea with honey, which had helped her throat but had sent her to the conveniences more times that she could count.

The redhead was dozing under warm linens when she was disturbed by a commotion in the downstairs hallway. She got out of bed and padded to the door to open it a crack and listen.

"I'm not sure Miss Beale is up to visitors, Miss Mitchell," Frawley, the butler, was saying. "She is quite ill."

"I have indeed heard," Miss Mitchell replied. "And if she cannot see me, I understand. Perhaps you would just give these to her from me?"

Chloe's curiosity was piqued, and she quickly slipped into a robe before stepping out into the hallway and looking over the banister. "Miss Mitchell is that you?" she called.

"Indeed, it is, Chloe," Jon called back to her. "After I told her you were unwell, she was greatly worried and wished to call upon you immediately."

"Oh, how very kind," the redhead smiled. "Frawley, please escort Miss Mitchell to my bedchamber and ask one of the maids to bring us some tea."

"Yes, Miss Beale," the butler replied with a smile. Then he turned to smile at Beca. "If you would be so kind as to follow me, Miss Mitchell?"

"Please lead on," Beca replied with a smile in return and then quickened her pace to keep up with his much longer stride. They climbed the grand staircase to the second floor and walked along the hallway until they reached a door where Frawley knocked gently, then opened it to permit the young woman to enter.

Beca smiled as she stepped inside to find Miss Beale sitting on the bed with her legs crossed underneath her. She looked pale and her eyes were red-rimmed… but she was still the most beautiful thing Beca had ever seen.

"Miss Mitchell, it is very much a pleasure to see you again," the redhead said, her voice a little scratchy.

"Miss Beale, I am so sorry that you are so unwell," Beca replied as she crossed the floor to offer the older woman a bouquet of sunflowers from behind her back. "For you."

"How beautiful," Chloe breathed as she accepted the flowers with a pleased smile. "These are my favorite. Did Jon tell you?"

Beca smiled and shook her head. "No, he did not but… I had a feeling that only these representations of the sun could even come close to matching your light and beauty. Do not you think I was right?"

Chloe looked down shyly, eyes focused on the patterned bedspread as she bit her lip a little. "Do not you think," she countered slowly. "That my agreeing with you would make me sound self-indulgent and maybe a touch narcissistic?"

"On the contrary, Miss Beale, it would be simply the truth."

Miss Beale's eyes lifted to meet Beca's and they said nothing for a long moment. The room felt slightly short of air and the redhead's cheeks colored a little. "Please call me Chloe. May I call you Rebeca?"

"Actually," Beca grinned a little. "No one calls me that but my father. I prefer Beca."

"Beca," Chloe repeated, as if tasting the name. "I like it. It suits you." Then the redhead coughed painfully and shook her head. "Forgive me. Please sit down."

"Chloe," the brunette replied. "You are really not well. Please get back into bed and stay warm." The redhead was feeling bad enough to where she just agreed and slipped back under the covers, relaxing back into the pillows with a tired sigh. Beca took a seat on the bed too, her legs folded underneath her the way Chloe's had been only moments earlier. "How did you catch your cold?"

"I… I like to walk… and unfortunately, three days ago, I was caught in a downpour. I started feeling a little unwell yesterday evening and woke up this morning with a head three sizes too big and a cough that rattles in my chest."

"Dear me," the younger woman replied. "Have you been visited by the doctor?"

"Yes, he has given me a tincture and a mustard plaster to wear. He said it should clear up soon."

"Good news indeed," Beca nodded, feeling a little less worried. There was quiet between them for a moment, then Chloe lifted her eyes again.

"Beca, I must ask. Jon called on you again today, did he not?"

"He did," the younger woman confirmed. "He was quite sweet and made it clear that he is interested in a match, if we both find each other suitable."

"Suitable?" the redhead echoed, slightly indignantly. "Why, he would be blind and foolish to not think you suitable. I…" But then she stopped suddenly and coughed again. "Forgive me." She blinked tired blue eyes and then let them close for a moment. "My fever may be talking for me."

"I think you are very sweet," Beca replied without hesitation. "And you have clearly raised a fine gentleman."

"I am but two years older than you both," Chloe chuckled softly. "However, I think the weight of guardianship may have prematurely aged me."

"That is not so at all," the brunette replied. She smiled then. "You are very beautiful, Chloe, and I suspect that many a suitor calls upon you."

The redhead was silent for a moment and their eyes met again but then a tap at the bedchamber door made them jump. The door opened to allow a maid to enter with a tray of tea and sandwiches, which she set on the small table before offering a little curtsey and leaving the way she'd come in.

Chloe began to sit up again but Beca placed a hand on her arm. "Please, allow me," she said.

"Thank you," the redhead nodded with a grateful smile, then watched as her new friend poured two cups of tea and added some milk and sugar at her agreement. "A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down," she murmured quietly. "My mother always said that." Beca nodded and passed her the cup, then offered the sandwiches. Chloe grimaced and shook her head. She was feeling slightly nauseated and thought it best to not partake. "Thank you, no."

"Maybe," Beca said softly. "We are to be sisters."

The redhead's eyebrows lifted. "You mean, you might actually consider marrying my brother?"

"You and he both seem surprised at that news," the younger woman laughed. "Is he such an ogre?"

Chloe smiled gently. "On the contrary, I have never known a better man."

"But are you biased?" the brunette teased gently.

The older woman smirked. "Perhaps… however, I am quite able to keep him in line and, I venture a guess that you would be too. Plus, we would also be family. Wouldn't that be grand?"

Beca nodded slowly, her heart already set on spending more time… as much as possible… with her soon to be sister-in-law…

The most beautiful woman she'd ever seen.