Marry Me (7 page)

Yes, too long. Hours.

Mrs. Moore, not willing to leave them alone, moved a flower arrangement from a chair, hesitating where to put it.

“Put it out in the hallway, Mother.” Millie’s hand stole to Raymond’s. “I don’t know why we have to keep them all in here anyway.”

Mrs. Moore sighed at the flowers in her hands. “I suppose so. After all, they don’t seem so charming now.” Thus she departed the room.

“G-gifts f-f-f-rom Ell-lliot-t-tt?”

Millie shrugged. “Gifts are important to him, I guess.”

“I d-d-idn’t br-ring you an-nything.” All he had were the hearts in his pocket. At least he hadn’t brought more flowers.

“I don’t care. I’m not one to be bought with things.”

“Wh-what d-do you l-like?”

She smiled at him and his heart melted.

“Words.”

“I’m-m n-n-ot g-g-g-ood-d with w-words.”

“I don’t care how they’re said, only that they are said.”

Mrs. Moore walked back in and did her best to sit carefully in the vacated chair. She still had his calling card. “Wilson. Of the New York Wilsons?”

He nodded.

“And Gregory John Wilson. Your father?”

“Uu-ncle.” Raymond’s father was a younger brother of the famous art investor. Uncle Greg had done very well for himself in his youth, starting with the Grand Tour in Europe and select art purchases. His shrewd business and art sense accelerated his reputation and fortune.

Having a bit of the family talent didn’t hurt either.

Mrs. Moore smiled. “I didn’t know you were of those Wilsons.”

Raymond stroked a daisy in the vase on the floor. Time for some fun. “Y-yes, ma’am.”

The daisy ever so softly, began to hum.

Mrs. Moore nodded. “So Mrs. Chandler was a New York Wilson? I hadn’t realized.”

“Oo-only the best f-f-f-or us.”

Mrs. Moore peered closer at him. Had she judged his stutter and sentenced him yet? His finger ran over the petals of some orange flower. Its subtle tune complemented the daisy.

Beside him, Millie fidgeted with excitement. “The Wilsons are an excellent family.”

She turned the full force of her illuminating smile on him. Could anyone look more radiant?

Raymond took a breath to fortify himself. “Mrs. M-moore, I have c-come to a-a-sk—”

A knock rang out on the front door. Millie peered out the window and her countenance fell. “Oh dear.”

It was Guy Elliott come to call. He swanned into the parlor with an arm full of flowers and a head full of ego. Raymond rose to his feet.

Oh, this would be interesting.

If Elliott had the poor taste to interrupt Raymond while he was asking for permission to court Millie, he would make him pay for every inch.

Elliott’s plastic smile froze the moment his gaze lit on Raymond. “I see you have ca-company.” He handed the flowers to the maid for vasing.

Raymond’s eyes narrowed. Mockery was not a gentleman’s way. A gentleman had far subtler games to play. “H-here. L-l-let m-me help you.”

Before Elliott could say another word, Raymond moved to the far side of the parlor and removed the vase of flowers off the farthest chair from the sofa. From there, the overfull table blocked the view of the sofa. As he set them on the floor, the blossoms received a subtle enchantment. As he returned to the sofa, every flower in his reach was likewise enchanted. Already a soft chorus filled the room if one knew to listen to it.

Elliott did not take the vacated chair. Instead, he held out his hand to Millie, almost commanding her to leave the sofa.

With a glance at Raymond, she took the hand and rose with reluctance. “I was not expecting you today,” she told Elliott.

Elliott’s eyes flickered toward Raymond. Raymond inspected his neatly-trimmed fingernails and hummed the daisy’s tune. The flowers chorus grew a little louder.

“Nonsense. How could I stay away?”

Elliott wouldn’t relinquish Millie’s reluctant hand. Nevertheless, she persisted until free. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you since yesterday.”

“And I hope to see you again tomorrow…” From the inside of his jacket he withdrew a small elongated velvet box. “…wearing this.” The box opened to show a silver chain bracelet, greasy with magic.

Mrs. Moore rose from her chair to admire the gift. “How…lovely. Is it Tiffany?”

A frown creased Elliott’s forehead. “Marcus.”

Millie retreated. “It’s too much. I can’t accept it.”

Mrs. Moore continued to stare at the simple silver bracelet. “You can’t turn down a gift like this.”

“I can’t accept a gift like this.” She turned to Raymond.

He rose. “I say, Elliott. L-laying it on t-t-t-oo thick?” His toe nudged the vase, increasing the flowers’ volume.

Elliott looked to the flowers and his frown deepened. He lifted the bracelet from its box and reached for Millie’s hand. “I insist.”

Mrs. Moore came around to the other side. “Take the gift, Mildred.” Her voice was tight and brittle.

Millie looked between her mother and Elliott. Her hand reached for Raymond’s. “Must I?”

“Yes,” her mother said between her teeth.

“I don’t want it.”

Raymond looked at the bracelet Elliott held up. Mrs. Moore lifted her finger and traced the links, beguiled by the magic infused in its silver.

But Millie wasn’t fooled, Raymond was certain. Yet another reason to love her.

She clung to his hand. This action did not go unnoticed by Elliott.

“I see.” He laid the bracelet back in its box and gave it to Mrs. Moore. “Perhaps this is a gift that would be appreciated later.”

Mrs. Moore received the box with eager hands. She ran her fingers over its velvet surface. “Mildred,” she said, her voice taking on an unnatural coldness. “Take this upstairs.” She forced it onto Millie.

Millie held it by two fingers as if its greasy effects would contaminate her further.

Raymond had to do something. He reached into his pocket. “B-before you g-g-o, M-m-miss Moore, I have a lit-t-tle something f-f-or you as we-we-ell.” On the back of a heart he pencilled a very important message.

Hope lit her eyes as he dropped the heart into her hand. Then without another word, Millie Moore fled the parlor for good.

“Well, sh-sh-e’s n-n-ot c-coming back.” Raymond placed his hat on his head and bade them good day. He left the flowers humming their chorus. Eventually it would fade, but not before it had driven Elliott away. Thus he left the Moore residence.

Before he had taken too many steps along the street he saw an upper window open. Something flew out with great force. It looked like a velvet box. His heart swelled. That’s his girl.

Millie leaned out the window, a scowl on her face. She watched the box fly far away, to disappear in the branches of a tree on the other side of the street.

She looked down and their gazes met. Her countenance changed to one of joy. She held up something small between her fingers—the candy heart—and shouted, “I love you too!” before popping the heart in her mouth. Then she retreated, lest someone catch her shouting something so true from the windows.

He wished she’d shout more often. That declaration lightened his feet, making him dance past stately homes and amused passers-by all the way to the next street corner.

A hand descended to his shoulder and spun him around quite forcefully.

“Hey Wa-Wa-Wilson, what do you think you’re doing?”

Guy Elliott had followed him from the Moores’.

He jabbed a finger at Raymond’s chest. “You trying to steal my girl, Wa-Wa-Wilson?”

A wagon rumbled by, the horses’ hooves ringing loud on the pavement. A few noisy boys darted past.

Really? Elliott chose a public street corner to pick a fight?

Raymond’s fist balled. It would serve Elliott right to be knocked down right here in public. He itched to do so. But that wasn’t the gentleman’s way.

“Can’t s-s-teal what’s n-n-ot-t y-yours.” His annoyance made his words come out even more staccato than usual. No good letting Elliott get the better of him, or he’d have no choice but to speak with his fists.

Elliott had no problems letting his sharp finger speak to Raymond’s chest. “I saw her first.”

Raymond took a deep breath. “So?”

It’s not like she was a seat on the tram, or a nickel on the sidewalk.

Elliott went from chest-poking to lapel-grabbing. “Stay away from her, Wa-Wa-Wilson. She’s mine.”

Oh, this was getting good!

Any minute now Raymond would have the perfect reason for bloodying Elliott’s nose. “N-n-ot what I h-h-eard.”
Go on
, he taunted in his head. Give him a reason to plant a right hook on Elliott’s phiz.

Elliott snarled in his face. “I mean it. She’s mine.”

His blood pumped. “N-n-ot r-reall-ly.”

Let Elliott take the first strike. Then Raymond was going to grease the sidewalk with him.

Elliott cocked back a fist. Before he could swing it, a gloved hand caught it.

“Here, now!” A blue-uniformed policeman glared at them both. “I’ll not be having you disturbing the public peace.”

Forcefully, Elliott released Raymond’s lapel. “We’re not done, Wa-Wa-Wilson.”

“Na-na-nuts to you.”

Elliott hesitated before departing. Raymond had no intention of hitting first. If Elliott took the first blow, he’d be arrested on the spot. He stalked off, very put out.

Raymond straightened his jacket and shook the hand of a wary policeman. “Tha-thanks.”

Elliott had one thing right; they were not done.

****

The next day Raymond went to work at the office. What good was an education unless you put it to work for the family business? Still, his feet itched all day. When five o’clock came, his uncle told him, “Go!” Even handed him his hat.

With a grin, Raymond departed.

The sun had dropped far enough to create that artificial twilight of New York. The air had a chill in the shadows. As Raymond walked down Millie’s street, he found an unexpected sight on the front steps. There, surrounded by several vases of flowers sat her father, Mr. Moore.

“G-g-ood-d even-n-ing?” Raymond’s footsteps slowed as he removed his hat.

A dejected Mr. Moore looked up, startled. “Oh, uh, good evening, sir.” He looked about the flowers self-consciously. “Could I interest you in some flowers?”

Raymond blinked at him. When he had a closer look at the blooms, he could detect Elliot’s magic. There was no trace of his own, so these must have been more gifts.

“H-have y-y-ou tr-r-ied throw-w-ing them out?”

Mr. Moore sank down even more. “Tried that. Wife kept rescuing them. Garbagemen don’t come until next Tuesday.” He sighed. His gaze returned to Raymond. “I say, we’ve met, haven’t we?”

Raymond nodded. “J-unior R-reg-gatta.”

Mr. Moore nodded. “I remember now. I apologize. I had much on my mind that afternoon.” He looked sideways. “My wife tells me you came to call the other day.”

Yesterday, in fact.

“I c-came to s-s-s-ee M-m-millie.”

Mr. Moore flicked one of the flowers in the vase. “Care for a seat, old boy?” He scooted over on the stoop.

Raymond accepted the offer. The two men settled amid the flowers.

“So, you’re interested in my Mildred, are you?”

Raymond nodded.

Mr. Moore gave him a good look up and down, from his neatly-combed hair and his finely-tailored suit to his shoes of impeccable good taste. “I hear you come from good family.”

“Y-yes.”

“College boy?”

Raymond named his university. “Cum-m laude.”

Mr. Moore nodded his approval. “Do you have a good job?”

Raymond nodded. “F-family business.”

“Good prospects?”

“Th-the b-b-est.”

Mr. Moore considered this. “Shame about that speech impediment. Still, every man has a flaw.” He poked at the flowers and scanned the street for another victim on which to foist the unwanted blossoms. “Tell me, Mr. Wilson. Do you like our Mildred?”

“V-v-ery m-m-much.”

Oh, so very much! Her voice shed warmth on his soul.

That satisfied Mr. Moore. “Then you have my permission to step out with my daughter.”

Raymond couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face.

Mr. Moore pointed a severe fatherly finger at him. “Listen up, boy. Don’t you go breaking my daughter’s heart. She’s the only girl I have left and I want to see her happy.” He reflected on the last of his words. “Yes. I want her happy.”

“M-may I s-s-s-ee her n-n-ow?”

“I’m afraid she’s gone out with her mother to some women’s auxiliary thing. Why don’t you try again tomorrow?”

What? Wait that long?

“F-f-ive-thirty ok-kay?”

“Why so late?”

Raymond shrugged, a small smile playing his lips. “I d-do have a j-j-job you kn-n-ow.”

****

Millie could not focus all day. As five o’clock approached, she paced the parlor, refreshingly empty of flowers, and fretted. She wore her most comfortable shoes, for even though Mr. Wilson—Raymond—would call here, Millie had no intention of remaining at home. It was not so much she was concerned over her parents’ interference, but rather she had no desire to be caught again should Mr. Elliott come calling.

Why didn’t she just tell him to go away?

She mused on this further. Had she told him to go away, that his suit was unwelcome? That had been her intention when he gave her the bracelet. She flushed with guilt over having thrown such an expensive, albeit cursed, gift out the window.

A thought chilled her; what if Mr. Elliott wanted the bracelet back?

A knock on the front door startled her. When she peeked out the parlor window, it was not Mr. Elliott as she feared, but Mr. Wilson, as she’d expected.

Millie had that front door open before the maid even entered the hallway. She threw herself into Raymond’s arms. “You don’t mind if we go out walking, do you? I have no desire to stay at home on such a lovely evening.”

The evening breeze rippled through the trees, bringing with it the chill that spring had not yet shaken loose. Still, nothing a light jacket couldn’t ward off.

“I w-w-as hop-p-ping you’d-d w-w-want t-t-o g-g-o out.” His face beamed in delight.

Thus, she slipped her arm in his and off they set, westward to the park.