The Purpose of Miss Shepley

Chapter Seven (part II)

"Edith." Bram's tone invited me to think harder so he wouldn't have to explain something to me. After a long pause, he hinted, "He's after a bit more than talkin'."

"Oh." Understanding struck me suddenly, and rumbling after it came several kinds of embarrassment. "Oh, I hadn't thought of that."

"That's 'cause you're green," he said, raising up on one arm to poke me in the ribs.

I snorted and slapped his hand away. "Go on..."

He poked me again, crooning, "Green and green, like a little sour cherry. But soon enough, you'll be-" Bram sobered suddenly. One corner of his mouth twitched in fitful little frowns. "Well. You'll be married, I suppose."

My mind, unbidden, suddenly conjured up the image of Charles Shepley rutting on me like a tom cat. I tried to squelch the thought, but it just kept rising, again and again, til my stomach twisted and I wanted to crawl out of my own skin.

An ugh escaped me.

"Ugh...?"

"I don't think I want to marry at all." I put up my hands, wanting to ward off the revolting vision. The more I thought on it, the more the whole notion of getting heirs seemed disgusting and ridiculous. "It's all so..." Words failed me. I grimaced and shook my head. "Ugggh."

"Well, I shouldn't think you were so green as that..."

Bram frowned and stuck out his bottom lip, silent in thought a few moments. "All those fancy gentlemen you dance with... Do you never like being near them? Not even just a little?"

"Well, I wasn't thinking about them that way." In hindsight, it seemed I really probably should have been.

I groped through my memories. There was gangly Elfie Ansley, with his quick lurches and jerks... Hollis Acton's clammy hands and clumsy feet... Earnest, boyish and boistrous... Doctor Brown was quite a good dancer, but also so very, very awkward to be with. Mr. Wentworth was also a very good dancer, with easy manners, grace, power... I remembered his arm firm along my ribs, his laughs rumbling through his chest, his knees brushing my thighs...

Bram watched me with a lopsided grin. I felt a blush burn across my cheeks and out to my ears.

"Oh, we're not so green after all, eh?" he drawled, poking me again. "Who is it, then? Who catches our fancy, eh?"

"Oh, no." I covered my mouth with both hands and shook my head quickly. Mr. Wentworth was forty if he was a day, and I found his face rather too knobbly to be handsome. And yet...

"No, I don't fancy him. I really don't. It's just..." My ears were so hot, they almost hurt. I giggled, though I wasn't sure why -- I couldn't help it. "Well. He's very tall." And his black brows and sideburns were rather striking.

"Tall, eh?" Bram pinned me with a sly look. "And dark, I suppose. And handsome?"

"No, really not so much. And he's old, besides." I gave Bram a stern look, which was difficult because I was still giggling. "I mean it, Bram. I don't fancy him."

Bram nodded once, with an air of finality. "So, there you are, then. Not so green." He stretched out amongst the roots again, his eye flicking toward me as he slowly unfurled an infuriating smirk. "And I have to hand it to you, Edie... There's no doubt about it. That Mr. Wentworth's a real man."

I cried out, pressing my face into my hands. It was too mortifying, too bewildering -- as if my body rebelled against both heart and mind.

"Experienced, too, no doubt. No fumbling about on your wedding night. Though at his age, I do wonder-"