That evening, at Margaret's house. John arrived as promised and sat down relaxingly, looking around the tidy drawing room. She looked absolutely stunning in her simple blouse, he thought, hearing her talking to him:
"Are you tired?"
He shook his head lightly. She looked relaxed as well, saying:
"My belongings arrived yesterday. This is my second day since moving here again."
She continued with a smile.
"Dixon came and helped me a lot. We've been cleaning up rooms, you know."
He saw her preparing the tea table with his gentle eyes, listening to her story.
"Since my mother was a young lady, Dixon had been her servant. She's been with the family for decades."
She poured tea into a cup and continued.
"She is more like a family member than a servant."
Margaret handed him his cup of tea.
They looked at each other, after their hands touching as they passed the cup.
Both of them remembered that moment their fingers touched by accident in this very room. It was considerably more than a year ago. After a moment of silence, Margaret spoke up.
"I've had very little experience with the touch of a man, um... like that. Actually, I've hated dancing as a girl, so I was always the wallflower. Besides, it's not proper to shake with bare hands in London..."
He listened to her innocent confession with a kind face.
"It was an extraordinary thing for me when your hand touched mine that time."
"I'm afraid we're boring Miss Hale with our enthusiasm for Arkwright"
"No. I'm a little tired, that's all"
She showed a mirthless smile. He only smiled out of the corner of his mouth. It was also extraordinary for him, he thought. he intended to keep it to himself that he had never wanted to touch a woman's hand before her. And how much he had been fascinated to see her preparing for tea with her bracelet.
After taking a sip of tea, John announced:
"I went to Liverpool after London."
She remembered the earlier conversation, asking him.
"Liverpool...for what? For arranging an export or something, perhaps?"
He said, "No," and looked up.
"To buy your engagement ring."
Surprised by the unexpected reply, she lowered the cup she had almost lifted
"What?"
"I didn't buy one. It turned out I had no idea about your finger size. Let's go together next time."
Margaret stood up silently and brought him a thick philosophy book from the bookcase.
"I'm glad you tried. But you've already given me your sincerity."
After she gently flipped through the pages, the pressed yellow rose appeared in front of him. He heard her saying:
"It meant a lot to me as a symbol of your honesty. "
He couldn't help loving her, he thought.
＊＊
Dixon was downstairs.
It's been quite a while since John came here. She heard the engaged couples were talking all the time – things like: "the finished product;" "working in Southern agriculture is different from employment in the North;" or "investments and leases".
After a few hesitations, Dixon walked up the stairs and cleared her throat lightly. John glanced at his pocket watch. Margaret realized that the night was completely over after they talked incessantly.
"I must go."
He stood up at once, giving a look the two women and walked down the stairs to the front door. Margaret followed to see him off.
After they left, Dixon made a strange face finding out the philosophy book on the table. Why did the young lovers talk about philosophy and investment, she thought.
The servant looked down from the top of the spiral staircase but couldn't see them in the darkness, barely two shadows. A voice was whispering. The light was flickering.
Slowly, the small shadow was wrapped by the large one.
Eventually, two shadows became one.
The light was flickering.
Dixon left the stairs without making a sound. She blinked reassuringly and put her hand on the back of the chair that Margaret's mother Maria used to sit in.