Salvation of Ignorance

Chapter 15: He Played His Role

Phoebe Mae Barrettmore was in love with Niall Claremont.

Well, perhaps 'love' was a dramatization. She could easily say she loved crème brulee one day and, upon discovery, say she loved tiramisu the next. But she was certain that she had strong feelings for the man. 

And he was, indeed, a man. 

A liberated Phoebe imagined him seeking her out to dance once more. He would be the dear that he hides for all except her and children who target him with ship buckets. Telling her the steps, she would follow his instructions with grace. Then, somehow-in-some-decorum-preserving-way-that-remained-unimportant-to-establish-for-the-time-being, he would seek her out into private conversation and declare, "Phoebe, dearest, of flaxen hair and spawn of Aphrodite. You are the Persephone of my temperament. When you are gone, I grow cold. When you return, I'm the spring hare--." 

No, no. Her Niall Claremont would remain chaste of tongue. "When you return, I am born again. My life--existence--being--," yes, she liked that word much better, "--would be tantamount to the weariest soul, the poorest ragamuffin, the bedridden elder, and then some. Be my salvation. Unite with me in the Lord's house and let me find peace." 

And she would have no choice but to reply, "How many children do you desire?" 

Then they would continue to conceive children until they were blue in the face. 

Phoebe erupted into a fit of giggles. Oh, but to know the moment of his fixation. Her precise action that slaved him to Eros' will. The muses whispered a notion. A silly notion of Niall's true intentions to step foot upon her native soil. That, all this time, he had been searching the hills and mountains for a woman who could be matched by no other. Then, he was summoned to meet his ideal candidate found by his loyal sea merchant friend. 

Mr. Talwin. 

That following morn, she met him for the first time after her romantic epiphany. He had happened upon her while she was departing church with her Nana. She had not located him during the sermon, but he was on the front steps of the establishment. Beaming, he had called out to her with greetings. With him, he had an elder gentleman of a slender frame who stood slightly above the younger man. He bore a smile and decorative clothes, but both were tame compared to Mr. Talwin's. 

"Miss Barrettmore--and Lady Barrettmore, of course--," Mr. Talwin nodded to her Nana before turning to Phoebe to continue, "Might I introduce my father, Mister Jonas Talwin?" 

The now pronounced Jonas Talwin stepped forward and bowed to both ladies. "Miss Barrettmore, I've heard nothing but praise since you've graced our shores. And I've been eager to put a face to the name on so many a lip." 

Miss Barrettmore hoped he exaggerated his flattery, for Phoebe had ill experience with her name being overly used. She curtsied. "Thank you. Hopefully, I may best represent such kind words." 

"Oh, I assure you, no one would say anything of that nature if it were not true. They are quick to spread any flaws if they are spotted." Jonas Talwin rose his hands at Phoebe's faltering smile. "Oh, no, not that they would easily find flaw. At least not in you, I'm certain you are without--." 

"Young Talwin," Nana said addressing the crimsoning son, "I was sorry to hear of your early departure last night. I hope the party had not failed to please." 

Peter Talwin eagerly shook his head. "No, not in the slightest. But I hope," he added, now addressing Phoebe, "That I may make up for the time by escorting you to your carriage." 

Phoebe glanced at her Nana for approval. The later smiled and Phoebe accepted Peter Talwin's arm.

The two had continued ahead of the elderly party and began to take their steps along the brick walkway. It was aligned with barren trees decorated simply with the first buds of spring. The breeze was gentle enough that she was comfortable in her spencer jacket and her bonnet prevented her hair from going to war with the refreshing breeze.