San Francisco

Trying to have a conversation with her mother was often like trying to trap mist. It wasn't that Flora Ward wasn't a warm and caring mother, eager to be close to her daughter, but she spent so much time caring for her younger children, keeping the accounts for the tailoring business and engaging in important charity work, that she had such little time for anything else. Over the years, Eloise had become more of a 'second mistress' of the home than a daughter, her mother trusting her to undertake many tasks that would have been her own had she the time. It also wasn't a conversation that she particularly wanted to have in front of the whole family.

Though she had gamely worked on for the rest of that day, her every thought had been about what Regina Winters had alluded to, namely that her courtship had been arranged rather than occurring naturally. She had found herself thinking back to her first encounter with Thomas at a recent wedding and to every encounter they'd had thereafter and the more she thought about it, the more Regina's words did seem to hold a ring of truth,

It wasn't that she was against arranged marriages per se. Aside from her parents' marriage it seemed to be the way things were done to ensure a suitable match on both sides, but for it to be held out as a relationship which blossomed quite naturally, rather than being called what it was, felt somewhat deceptive.

"You look lovely, Lou," her mother said admiringly as she entered the drawing room that evening. "That is such a suitable colour on you. It really brings out your eyes."

"Thank you," Eloise replied, though if she were being honest, she felt as though the dress was a little snugger on her waist than it had been before. She would have to remember to let out the seam.

"Thomas will be enchanted when he sees you."

"Actually, Mother, that's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"What?"

"Thomas."

Her mother turned back to the mirror, pushing imaginary tendrils of hair away from her face. "What about him?"

"Well…" she paused, unsure how to even begin the conversation. How did a person ask their mother if they had secretly inveigled them into the path of an eligible suitor without coming right out and asking the question? "I was just wondering if…well…if you were aware of how he first became interested in me."

Her mother paused for an infinitesimal moment before recovering herself, but it was a moment that Eloise failed to miss. "I don't know what you mean."

"Well, he approached me at Daphne Harrington's wedding as though he had only just laid eyes on me but, well, thinking back, I can't help but feel as though he had been directed my way, as it were."

"Well, I dare say someone may have pointed him out to you as an eligible beauty, but I'm fairly certain he wouldn't have approached you had he not felt that about you himself."

"Yes, but I'm wondering why he did it at that point?"

"Did what at that point?"

"Approach me."

Her mother turned back around to face her, a frown marring her brow, "I'm sorry Lou, but I really don't understand what you're getting it."

"I'm twenty-nine years old, Mother, practically an old maid…"

"Nonsense."

"…and an eligible man, one whom I've seen in society before without him ever taking notice, takes it upon himself to suddenly approach me of his own volition and, essentially, ask to court me."

"Well…I'm given to understand that Thomas has spent most of the last ten years or so burying himself in his books at the bank and, frankly, giving little thought to matters of the heart. Perhaps he decided it was time to look for a wife."

"And I just happened to be there."

"I suppose…"

"How do you know?"

"How do I know what?"

"How do you know that he spent the last ten years 'giving little thought to matters of the heart'?" Her mother looked at her, mouth open, as though desperately fighting for an appropriate response. "Mother, I know that you and Mrs Lewis are acquainted through your charity work and that there may therefore have been conversations about Thomas and me so…did the two of you scheme to push us together?"

Before her mother could reply, her father bounded into the room. "Are we all ready to go? The boys are practically champing at the bit, Lord only knows why. Don't you two look lovely! Lou, that colour…"

"Brings out my eyes, I know," she said, somewhat harshly, causing her father to pause and glance between them.

"Is there a problem?"

"I was just asking Mother if she and Mrs Lewis had schemed to push Thomas and I together."

"I'm not sure I would use the word scheme…" her mother said finally.

"Then what word would you use?"

"I really think you need to see it from our perspective, Lou. As you said, you're twenty-nine years of age and with little prospect of matrimony…" her mother spread her hands. "You can see the position that we were in."

"The position that you were in?"

"Well, I mean…"

"Uh, Flora…" her father coughed surreptitiously, "perhaps this is a conversation best had later, once we've all returned from the theatre. I know that Thomas will be waiting for us well, for Lou, and I really don't think it would be polite to keep him waiting." He turned his gaze towards his daughter, "Would it?"

Eloise opened her mouth to respond that it seemed entirely the right moment to have the conversation, then closed it again. Her father was a good man, a kind man, and yet she knew him well enough to know when he was, in effect, 'putting his foot down'. Arguing the point with him now would have little effect other than to put everyone in a foul temper.

"Your father's right, Lou," her mother said. "Let's go and enjoy the evening and we can speak of this later, yes?" She looked at her daughter questioningly and Eloise felt she had no option but to nod in return. "Good, well let's make haste so we don't miss the curtain."

XXXX

The carriage ride was somewhat strained, the six of them squashed together, her brothers arguing with one another until her mother finally gently, but firmly, told them that if their behaviour didn't improve, they would be turning straight around and going home. Eloise wasn't even sure why they were there, if truth be told. At fifteen, twelve and ten, their interests didn't exactly extend to frivolities such as the theatre and she didn't relish having them badger her every five minutes for explanation as to what was happening on the stage. It was an unkind way to think of her siblings, she knew, but then perhaps it was another reason why she was still chaste and unmarried. Perhaps, deep down, she wasn't the maternal type.

Her mother and father kept shooting glances at each other, an entire conversation playing out in front of her with no words being spoken. It was something she had noticed over the years that they were very practiced at, no doubt borne from their deep connection to one another, a trait she both admired and envied. How wonderful it would be to be able to communicate in such a way with another human being.

As predicted, Thomas was waiting for them when they arrived at the theatre, his face lighting up when he saw her, his hand instantly moving to assist her in stepping down from the carriage. "It's so wonderful to see you," he said in a low voice as she moved to stand beside him. "You look lovely."

"Thank you."

"And you, Mrs Ward," he turned to her mother. "You look enchanting."

"Why, thank you Thomas, that's most kind," her mother beamed, allowing him to also assist her out of the carriage, the boys tumbling after her. "You're looking very well yourself. Don't you think so, Eloise?"

"Yes, of course," she replied, "very well." She walked into the theatre at Thomas's side, almost oblivious to the conversation he was making. Many of the great and good of society were there and there were nods and smiles all around. To her irritation, she caught sight of Regina Winters from a distance, the other woman grinning broadly at her and felt her face flame.

"Are you alright?" Thomas asked suddenly, causing her to look at him. "You look flushed."

"Do I? I'm sorry, I'm fine," she replied. "Though it is rather warm."

"Yes, I suppose it is." Conversation was paused as they were all shown to their seats, and she found herself positioned between him and her eldest brother. "I was hoping that we might have a chance to be alone together later this evening."

"Alone?" The word came out before she realised she had said it, the tone much higher than her natural cadence.

"Yes," he smiled at her. "Perhaps we could take a walk together once the play is over. I can see you safely back home later. It's such a lovely evening after all."

"Oh, yes…I don't see why not," she replied, feeling her heart starting to pound in her chest. They had spent hardly any time alone together in the few months since they had been courting, normally always in the same company as either her family or his or both. Time spent alone had been fleetingly brief and, on those occasions, the conversation very light.

She saw and heard very little of the play itself, her mind far away. Only the occasional laughter from the audience brought her back to reality and only for a brief moment each time before her thoughts would wander again. Perhaps he intended to ask for her hand, but that would presuppose that he had already asked her father and surely, he would have given her some indication, some prior warning if that had been the case. On the other hand, perhaps Thomas felt it unnecessary to ask her father's permission, but that seemed unlikely. Or perhaps he had no intention of asking any such thing at all.

By the time the curtain fell for the last time and the audience applause had dissipated, she felt a sense of profound panic start to set in. Spending time alone with Thomas seemed ill-advised until she knew for certain whether her parents had had a hand in their courtship. If he were to ask for her hand, what would she say? To accept a man's proposal and then change her mind was akin to social suicide for a woman, unless there were extenuating circumstances, but to refuse him outright after allowing him to court her was seen as being in extremely poor taste.

It was a trap.

"Well, I thought that was wonderful," her mother said as they all re-emerged into the evening sunshine. "I'm very glad we had the opportunity to attend."

"Yes, indeed," Thomas agreed. "A very worthwhile way to spend an evening." He turned to her father. "Mr Ward, might Eloise and I take a walk before I return her home? It's still early and it seems a pity to waste the weather."

Her father smiled, "Well I don't see…"

"Actually Father, I'm not feeling at my best," she interrupted. "Thomas, I'm so sorry but I think I'd prefer to go straight home if you don't mind." She looked up at him with what she hoped was an appropriately sorrowful expression and felt instantly guilty at the disappointment that crossed his face. "Perhaps, another evening?"

"Of course," he recovered himself, "I have no wish to keep you out if you're not feeling well, and you did look very flushed earlier. There will be other opportunities, as you say."

"Are you sure, Eloise?" her mother asked.

"Yes Mother, quite sure," she replied, trying her best to keep her tone neutral.

"As you wish."

Thomas helped her back into the carriage, holding onto her hand a little longer than was necessary and leaned in closer to her. "Perhaps I could call on you tomorrow."

"Oh, yes, perhaps."

With a final smile, he stepped back, touching his hat as the carriage pulled away and made its way back through the streets to South Park. Eloise kept her gaze firmly on the passing scenery, not wishing to look at her parents until the moment was right for them to answer her questions.

"Would you like a brandy?" her father asked, once the three of them were alone in the drawing room, her brothers having been banished to their rooms to get ready for bed.

"No," she replied. "I'd prefer an answer to the question posed earlier. The one that Mother had started to answer before we had to leave for the theatre." She turned to where her mother was sat on the far chaise-longue. "Mother?"

"Lou, I really do feel you're making slightly more of this than is necessary."

"How so?"

"Well, as I said, you're twenty-nine years old. Most of your friends and contemporaries are long married with children and yet, here you are, on your own. No mother wishes that for her daughter, and I can't for one moment believe it's what you've wished for yourself. Thomas is a wonderful young man with many positive qualities. He is handsome, he has a profession that will afford you a good lifestyle and a comfortable home…" she broke off and glanced at her husband.

"So, you did scheme with his mother to bring us together."

"Martha Lewis was concerned that Thomas was becoming too engrossed in his work and not thinking about other pursuits. I was concerned about you and, well, it seemed a good idea to set you in one another's paths. There was no malice intended in it, I assure you."

"The fact is you do have an interest in one another, do you not?" her father chimed in. "You find him to be kind and attentive?"

"Yes, but…" Eloise floundered for an appropriate response. "I would have preferred to select my own intended rather than…"

"But you showed no interest in anyone," her mother interjected. "You spend every waking moment at the store and, whilst admirable, doing so is not likely to throw you into the path of suitable young men. I considered…we consider…that an alliance with Thomas would be fortuitous all round."

Eloise paused, the choice of her mother's words giving her cause for suspicion. "That's a rather interesting way of putting it, is it not? I've always assumed you advocated marrying for love, not convenience."

"Of course, but not everyone is as lucky as your father and I."

"Lou…" her father stepped forwards, "You're an intelligent woman, one who has consistently made good and steady decisions. Turning your hobby into a thriving business, for example, one that has great potential. I know, therefore, that you'll understand when I tell you this."

"Tell me what?"

"Business hasn't been so prosperous of late," he said. "There are more and more tailor shops opening up in the city, undercutting my prices and I no longer have the same market that I once did. I don't want to compromise on the quality of my work and, well, trade continues to fall. Thomas and his father…well…they're in a position to help."

"Help in what way?"

"Investment," her father continued. "With their assistance I can continue to run the business as I see fit without having to make any cuts. I can continue to support you should you wish to expand, if Thomas has no objection, and you could possibly even take on your own staff. We could move to larger premises and…"

"I understand what such investment might mean but…surely that would be a separate business decision and not one contingent on Thomas and I being wed…" she glanced between her parents, "wouldn't it?"

"Your father doesn't believe the investment would be made without the match," her mother said.

"Well…surely there would be other investors who would be interested…" she tailed off at the look on her father's face. "And…and if not, surely, we could use our own ideas to keep the business prospering. There must be things that we could do to…"

"Lou…" her father took hold of her hands. "I don't think you truly understand the gravity of the situation, and no father wants to put such a burden on his daughter but…I confess I do fear for our future if the investment isn't made."

Eloise slid her hands away from him and moved over to sit in the armchair, her head spinning. In the matter of a few moments the situation had changed from one of her own indignation at having being 'set up' as it were with Thomas, to suddenly being confronted with the fact that the future success of her entire family rested on her decision whether or not to marry him. "So, what you're really saying is…I have to marry him, if he chooses to ask me." There followed an elongated silence, and she looked up once more to meet her father's gaze again. "He's already asked for my hand, hasn't he."

"Yes, he has. And I gave my blessing."

"Then he would have asked me this evening."

"Most likely."

"You've always been a sensible young woman, Lou," her mother said, coming over to sit beside her. "You've never given us a moment's worry or concern, with the exception of your unmarried status. As your father said, you've made a good start with your millinery work and contributed to the family…" she trailed off, leaving the words Eloise knew to be true unsaid. That marrying Thomas, therefore ensuring the family's continued financial wellbeing, was no more than they expected of her.

"But I don't love him," she said finally.

Her mother took her hands. "Love can grow. Many of the happiest marriages started with two people who liked one another enough to wed. Thomas is a kind man who, I can't imagine for a moment would do anything to ever harm you."

"We would not be happy to allow you to marry him if we thought otherwise," her father added.

She looked at them both in turn, the kind, loving parents they were who had never done anything to hurt her, who had supported and cared for her for almost thirty years without question. Now they were asking her to do something for them in return and, despite all her misgivings, how could she refuse? Besides, her mother was likely right. Love could grow, given the right circumstances. Who was to say that a life as Thomas Lewis's wife wouldn't be a happy one?

Later that night, as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, she resolved that she would marry him were he to ask. It wasn't really that big a sacrifice, not when she had never known what real love felt like. She wasn't losing anything and, in fact, had much to gain. They all did.

Besides, honouring her parents was the best gift a daughter could ever give.