The typical groups were all present and accounted for. Rosalind suppressed a sigh as she was led past one acquaintance after another, trying her best to appear graceful and moderately interested when people spoke to her. She'd taken to counting in base sixteen during these conversations. It gave her that attractive look of daydreaming and protected her brain from absorbing one morsel of useless information about people's pets or children. She understood that those things were important to those people, and she understood their desire to talk about them. She simply did not care about the speakers, and cared even less about people she had never met. Her parents did their best to engage her at first, but these attempts largely led to smart remarks from Rosalind which did none of them any social favors. Now they largely left her to her own devices, which meant sneaking off frequently to read scraps of her book or make notes about some new thought she'd had.
She was surprised when they directed her toward a table where a rather large, hairy man was dominating the conversation. She picked out the topic he was speaking on almost immediately and her hands clutched each other tightly. He was talking about physics. Her heart beat faster and she licked her lips, remembering only after her lipstick coated her tongue that she should refrain from doing that.
She moved forward on her own initiative, taking a seat at the table. The men turned toward her and she nodded to them all, greeting the ones she knew by name first. The men shifted in discomfort at her breach of unspoken etiquette, but Rosalind pointedly ignored that. She turned her eyes toward the man who had been speaking, almost too nervous and excited to breathe.
The man spoke up with no prompting from her. "Ah, young miss. So bold." He sounded like he vaguely disapproved, and Rosalind shook herself out of her stupor. She didn't want to be rejected, not this time. She was going to try to win this one, so she could talk about the things she truly loved. Having another mind that might equal hers was so exciting she couldn't bear it.
Of course, she was still a fifteen year old girl, so rather than articulate that thought she said, "I only wished to listen as you spoke. Would you have me stand instead, looming over you like a cloud?" She crossed her arms, smiling in satisfaction with her answer. She was glad to have something to say without pausing. It would show how well her mind worked, that she was quick witted and clever.
The man looked even less amused than before, but he nodded in agreement. "I am not used to seeing women with an interest in science. I'm a professor and I rarely see even a hint of a woman walking past my classroom." He looked at her as though he was cataloguing her. She took stock of him as well. Big bushy beard, thick, dark hair. He was dressed in well made but slightly cheap looking clothing. Her parents would consider him an adequate but disappointing match. His expression disturbed her, and she realized that she agreed with their assessment rather quickly. He lingered too long over her chest. No man had been so blatantly lewd at her before. He even licked his lips, though perhaps that was just to clear the last of his drink off them before he poured another in his mouth.
She sat up straighter, her blue eyes locking onto his. She imagined herself a queen, able to command and dismiss those at the table at her leisure. None seemed inclined to get involved one way or another. She assumed then that they didn't like the supposed professor. She understood why. "I'm certain you'd notice if a woman went past your door from the way your eyes are becoming acquainted with the beadwork of my bodice."
His jaw set for a moment, and she wondered what he would do. He drank, which made Rosalind like him even less. Her father was a saint when he was sober, and a demon when drunk. There was no possible chance she'd ever find this man attractive, no matter how much he spoke of physics. "You're not like other women." His tone made his disapproval clear. "I could teach you a thing or two, I bet." His tone became darker and Rosalind wondered if he'd intended the words to be threatening or not. Why on Earth had her parents directed her toward this table? Did they think a mutual love of science was enough for her to agree to marry this man?
"If you wanted the company of other women you'd be over there where they are sitting." Rosalind waved a hand in the direction of the hens that were already chirping about some foolishness or other, hiding their words behind fans and gloved hands. The insult was merely implied, but she knew he'd catch it.
She smirked a little when his reaction proved her right. It was so refreshing to be able to insult someone with such a light touch. "You think you're smart?" He asked. It was a clear sign of defeat. Rosalind nearly clapped with glee. She was as capable of inspiring irritation and anger in others as she was her mother. That was quite an accomplishment.
"I do think, which makes me smarter than most. Do you disagree with my assessment, or would you prefer to think you'd been tongue tied by a stupid woman?" She folded her hands in her lap, leaning ever so slightly forward. The occupants of the table were like Wimbledon spectators, looking from one participant to the other to see who would drop the ball.
"I think you're not as smart as you'd like to be or you'd be talking about something beside yourself." He shrugged, pouring his glass full again. It was his turn to smirk at her, his bushy eyebrows raised in challenge. He drank half the glass in one go, a motion so effortless Rosalind assumed it was honed by copious practice. Her revulsion for him deepend.
"You've offered me little of interest to discuss beyond myself. However, if you wish to guide the conversation feel free to do so. Teach me, if you can." Her own eyebrow arched and she sat back again, her arms crossed over her chest.
The man laughed at her. She bristled at it, seething quietly as his braying filled the room and drew all eyes to their table. Rosalind felt herself blushing at that attention, her eyes fixed on the man, smouldering with hate. How dare he belittle her? Worse was the silence that pervaded the room otherwise, ensuring that there would be no interruption of his obnoxious laughter until it ceased on its own.
His laughter tapered off into chuckles and he leaned forward to speak to her. "Little girl, I would teach you so many things." He eyed her again, then turned to the man to his right, his eyes leaving Rosalind entirely. He started to speak to the bewildered man about the recent races as though nothing had happened. The dismissal was evident, and everyone was still watching.
Rosalind rose gracefully from her chair, brushing the wrinkles out of her skirt. She strode through the hallway, followed closely by her mother. She made it outside before anyone could stop her, which was a blessing. Rosalind nearly ran down the drive toward the street, stopping only when her mother yelled her name.
Rosalind froze in her tracks, then turned slowly. She let her mother catch up, though she was loathe to do so. "I'm sorry, Rosalind. We didn't know he'd be so deep in his cups. Your father said he seemed a decent chap." The apology sounded sincere, and Rosalind had no reason to doubt its veracity. No matter what her mother thought of her love for science Rosalind knew that her mother would never put her in a situation to be treated that way on purpose.
Rosalind wanted to be snotty, and felt she had that right. She just didn't have the energy for it. "Did you really want me to like him?" She asked, her voice high and strained with exasperation. "He's a fool, no matter who gave him a degree that he thinks says otherwise." Her voice was wavering more than she wanted, so she took deep breaths to calm herself.
Her mother put her arm around her, and Rosalind let her shoulders slump. They stood in silence for a moment, Rosalind leaning on her mother, taking solace in her embrace. "Men are too much trouble, mother. Why couldn't I have a horse instead? A horse is at least useful, and when it is no longer serviceable I may shed a tear over it. I don't think I'd ever mourn a husband's passing."
Her mother sighed, tipping Rosalind's chin upward until they saw eye to eye. "Not all men are like that, dear child. I wish this could be easier for you." She kissed Rosalind's cheek, and Rosalind saw her mother with new eyes. Once her mother had been her age. Had she mourned her own marriage prospects? Had she even fought against the system that held her in bondage, born to be subservient to men and their desires? It was a startling thought.
She placed her hand on her mother's face, sighing softly. "I don't want this, mother. Please don't make me marry. I want to use my mind, not labor as you do for a husband who is one bottle away from terror."
Her mother turned her head away from Rosalind's hand and turned her back on the girl. "There's only two ends for a woman, dear child. Marriage or whoring. Why fight the inevitable? Find a gentle man and try to live well. There is nothing else for you, no happiness in the road you want to walk."
"I don't want happiness, mother. I want knowledge." She spoke quietly, then went toward the house again. "We should return. Father will be looking for us. It would be unwise for us to be gone long, lest our hostess think we took offense at the oaf's demeanor toward me."
Her mother nodded, offering her arm to Rosalind. "Clearly he's not enough of a chaperone. We'll find some quiet place and fend off the gossipmongers when they inevitably set up on you. I'm afraid you'll soon have no choice but to accept life as a spinster."
Rosalind squeezed her mother's arm, nodding in agreement. "It seems to be that way. I apologize. I've not been. . . satisfactory as a daughter. I would have made a better son."
Her mother laughed a little, patting Rosalind's hand. "You would have, but I have gracefully decided to love you despite your flaws, dear child."
Rosalind didn't bother to disguise her laughter. The burning shame and anger melted away. This was a new aspect to her mother's personality, and one Rosalind found quite refreshing. "Are you upset at me for arguing?"
"Dreadfully." Her mother said, with a nod. "However, better to find out now that a man is unworthy than later. You're an adult now, I can't force you to be what you're not. The choices you've made are irrevocable, and you seem more than happy to suffer the consequences. What rod do I have to beat you into submission if dying alone holds no sting?" There was resignation in Mrs. Lutece's voice, but now they were too near the house for Rosalind to reply.
She settled her face into her pleasant, empty expression, but rather than counting to G she mulled over what her mother had said. Would she die alone? Was science worth running that risk? She might find happiness in a man down the line. She wasn't immune to their physical charms, after all. She just wished they were as handsome inside as out.
She made her rounds of the room, greeting the women she knew before retiring to a couch with her mother to while away the evening. She didn't want to die alone, she decided. It was just the lesser evil of the options presented to her.
Robert smiled across the table at his dinner partner. She was an objectively lovely young woman named. . . probably Britanny. He was almost sure of it. Her father was a. . . something to do with India. He couldn't be quite sure. He knew she had dark hair and large blue eyes. They were lovely eyes, and he felt the fires of hope stirring within himself. Perhaps he could love her. Her skin was pale and looked soft. When she smiled (which she did often), it made him think that she was truly enjoying herself, rather than just doing so because it was expected. She was a good dancer as well, though he'd only had the pleasure once that evening. He'd thought to ask for another, but it had slipped his mind. She ate like a bird, pecking at this or that, not really focusing on her meal. This he found unattractive, but he said nothing. It wasn't his place to question why she ate in this manner. He pushed aside his annoyance and worked on his own plate. He was hungry so he worked at it at a steady pace, rarely joining in the dinner conversation.
When the food finished the women took their leave while a maid saw to the table. He only saw maids at parties like these, and he found them to be more interesting than their employers, usually. He admired them for their hard work and their obvious strength of character. To care for someone they were not related to, even for money, made them good people. He imagined that they must all have fascinating stories, and wished it would not be indecorous for both participants if he drew one aside to speak to her.
Robert stood and went to follow the men outside when the young woman across the table (Bethany, certainly Bethany), put her hand on his arm. He turned to her and smiled, watching her smile in return. "Robert, you've been so quiet. I hope you aren't weary of my company." She looped her arm in his, and he understood that he would not be joining the men this evening unless he found a way to disengage her.
His voice was smooth and consoling when he spoke, and he patted her hand softly. "Of course not. I apologize if my behavior made you think that. I have been thinking a lot recently about my college prospects." He was nervous about that. He had a stack of instructions for scholarship essays sitting on his desk, waiting to be attended to. It was a partial truth. He felt that was the only kind of truth he could tell anymore. He just couldn't admit to the fact that her touch on his arm was nowhere near as interesting to him as the petty assault he engaged in with his male colleagues. A knot began to form in his stomach, his nervous reaction to the threat of potential exposure.
The woman nodded, leading him to a couch in the adjacent room. He waited for her to seat herself before placing himself at the opposite end, so they were no longer touching. She eyed the space between them, her smile faltering a little. He wasn't sure what to make of that, but she didn't give him time to remind her of the need for decorum. "What do you hope to study?"
He latched onto the subject like a desperate man flailing at the driftwood of his sinking ship. His voice was very animated and he turned slightly toward her, his eyes bright with nerves and almost manic glee at being able to talk about his studies. "I'm hoping to be a physicist. I want to see the inner workings of the universe and learn how it works. I can imagine no greater challenge or more worthy endeavor than discerning the nature of the mysteries of the universe."
She smiled, scooting closer to him. She was still not touching him directly, but she was close enough that he could do so with little effort. "Ah, so that's what you look like when you're passionate about something." Her tone was teasing with a hint of. . . something else. Robert wasn't quite sure what. She was leaning forward quite a bit, so much so that she had to crane her neck upward. He thought it didn't look terribly comfortable, and her dress made it appear that she was imminent danger of exposure in that position.
He smiled at her, but it felt brittle even to him, an inadequate mask for his confusion and nerves. What was she doing? This sort of bold display wasn't ladylike. He couldn't glance around the room to see if they were being observed without giving her great offense and drawing more attention to the situation. He gently patted her hand, his eyes staying firmly above her neck. Just because she was presenting herself did not mean he had to take advantage. It was the gentlemanly thing to do. "I beg your pardon." He said, leaning back slightly. "I was unaware that you were attempting to-" He paused, feeling a hot blush creep over his face as he fully understood the things happening around and to him. "This isn't proper. I have no wish to take advantage of the situation." He put his hand out, intending to very gently push her backward, out of that horribly compromising position.
She leaned back on her own and his hand touched her breast instead. He jerked away as though he'd been burned by the contact. The girl gasped, putting her hand over her mouth. Across the room an elderly matron yelled, making Robert turn his head so quickly he risked whiplash. "What do you think you're doing?"
The girl covered her chest with her hands and Robert floundered for a moment, his mouth opening and closing, but not sound leaving it. His face was burning. He was certain his skin was at least as red as his hair, if not more so. He stood hastily, dashing toward the comfort and safety of the men talking on the lawn. High pitched chatter chased him out the door, and he had the momentary fear of being chased by the women and drowning in a sea of taffeta and perfume while the women tried to tear him apart for his accidental slight.
The men looked up at him, many eyebrows raised. Some of the younger men nodded knowingly, and one poured him a glass of port. Robert accepted it gratefully, taking a seat. The men's conversation returned to something or other. Robert wasn't paying attention. He was just grateful to be back in familiar territory. He sipped his drink slowly, having no intention to become intoxicated. After a few moments his calm returned and he breathed a slow sigh of relief.
The young man who'd poured the port laughed a little. "I'm sorry for whatever happened in there. My sister is far too forward. If she gets caught she plays innocent well enough, but the only people who are still fooled by her displays are Gran and sometimes mother."
Robert felt more at ease with that assurance. Robert was also quite glad the man didn't want to harass him for his impropriety with his sister. "It was an accident, I'm sure. She was a pleasant conversation partner until things got out of hand." It was best to be magnanimous. There was no sense in pressing the matter, though he dearly wished she would be exposed if she'd truly tricked him into that position.
The young man laughed and shook his head. "You keep that attitude and you'll have women using you for the rest of your life. You have to take a firm hand with them, you know." This mode of conversation was typical for the men that Robert knew, but it was still uncomfortable. Even worse was the fact that these things were being said after an incident with his sister. He felt that family should refrain from speaking ill of other members of the family.
"I'm certain you're right." Robert said, though his tone made it clear he meant the exact opposite. He turned toward the center of the men and attempted to engage in their conversation, while sipping his port. The dismissal made the man next to him bristle for a moment, but Robert would rather be thought rude than engage in any kind of family argument between the man and his sister.
The rest of the evening was uneventful, until his father came to collect him to go home. His mother was already in the carriage when they arrived, wrapped tight in her shawl. She nodded to Robert when he stepped in, watching as his father wove his way to the driver's seat. Robert worried about his father's ability to drive in his current state, but years of living with the man made him keep his silence. He clasped his hands in his lap, trying not to to dwell on his terrible evening.
His mother looked. . . pleased. He wasn't sure what to make of that. She was smiling at him, seemingly unbothered by the cursing that filtered back from the driver's bench. He smiled back at her, though he couldn't put his heart behind the expression. He was just too confused by everything.
"She's very pretty." His mother said, and Robert felt his stomach turn to lead. His mother knew, or thought she knew what had happened. She was. . . pleased by that. He felt revolted for a moment, then quite sad. He'd never intentionally do something so rude. Why was she so happy? "I saw how she was leaning forward, I'm certain you gave her just want she wanted. She'd be a good match for you, Robert. Her family has a little wealth and they want her to marry someone before her indiscretions get the best of her."
Robert shook his head in response to all that information. His mother wanted him to marry a woman who'd tricked him into touching her. She wanted him to marry her despite her. . . indiscretions. At first it seemed an elegant solution. Perhaps she'd be bold enough to make her desires known even when he did not feel their equal inside himself. A wife who wanted to bed him would be an asset, right?
The thought barely occurred to him before he shut it down, almost shivering in disgust. "Mother, please. She was indeed quite pretty but I want more than a bedwarmer in the person I take for my lifelong companion. I'm not through college yet, a child now would be too much of a distraction to my studies."
"Robert," His mother sounded exasperated and angry. He still felt guilty about his effect on her mood, but it couldn't be helped. "When would you be taking care of the child? That's her job, not yours. You'd be free to study and work, she'd be saved from a terrible life of drudgery, and if your desires do not extend toward the fairer sex you can always ask that she take red haired lovers so the bastards would at least look like you."
For the second time that night Robert was struck speechless, his face and neck hot with the effects of his brilliant blushing. His mouth hung open and he stared at his mother, unable to even process what she'd just accused him of. Of course he was interested in women. Just none of the women he'd ever met. It was natural for a man to enjoy the company of other men. Women were just too strange to be around them for long.
The heavy weight in his stomach grew larger and he became unable to meet his mother's eyes. He turned his face toward the floor, wishing he could die and be done with the hardships of his life. She reached across to him, drawing his eyes up again. "Did you think I couldn't see you struggling, dear child? A mother knows her children better than they know themselves." Her voice was very low. Robert realized that she was keeping this a secret from his father.
Very slowly, he nodded once. "I want to be good." His voice was low as well. He fought against the tears that wanted to escape. There was no time for that. "I want to be what society expects of me. I don't want to be a-"
His mother's fingers stilled his lips before Robert could say the hateful word that he now had to admit applied to him all too well. He looked at his mother, feeling like a child again. He was lost and would never find home. "You'll be a physicist, and someday perhaps you will find a cure for your condition. I just wanted you to understand that I know what is troubling you, and that I want what is best for you." She slid her hand back into her lap, looking at him with a serious expression. "Have you. . . acted-"
"No," Robert said, quickly, shaking his head. "I must keep it hidden if I want to attend college. No man would share a dormitory with me if they knew." He'd resigned himself to that truth long ago. It almost didn't bother him most of the time.
She nodded and the relief on her face was another kilo added to the weight in his stomach. He wondered if she'd disown him if he ever acted on his unclean desires. "Then I will pray for you, dear child."
This annoyed him. He was unused to being annoyed by his mother, so it was hard to accept that feeling for a moment. Finally he said, "If God answered prayers do you think I would still be afflicted? I doubt there's a God at all. If there is a God he is certainly exactly the kind of father you want me to be." He couldn't keep the venom of his anger out of his words, and his mother recoiled as though she'd been slapped.
She turned away from him, shaking her head. He almost apologized, but it would only be out of habit. He pressed his lips together and turned his gaze to the world outside the carriage's window. He was entirely unlike the son she'd wanted. He once wished he could be that man, but he was becoming more and more aware of the fact that he didn't care about that anymore. She would think what she thought regardless of how it affected him, so why shouldn't he behave as he saw fit?