She laughed and Mr. Perry retreated. There would be no more speculating on the state of the Granborough’s marriage, for Giles was a determined suitor as well as a devoted spouse.
A polka began, and Mr. Ferron found his way to the dance floor. The older gentleman claimed one of the Broome sisters as a partner, and the pair began to circle the room.
Miss Ferron swished her feet in time to the music, dearly longing to join in the merriment. She smiled and clapped, though her tone grew serious as she confessed, “Daddy has been lonely since my mother died. He will be lonelier still while I am away at finishing school.”
“Your father loves you very much,” said Louisa, speaking from experience, “to put your happiness above his own.”
Giles angled forward to add, “He only wants what is best for you.”
“I think maybe I shouldn’t live away from him. Switzerland is so far from the States…”
“Then you must be honest with him,” Louisa urged. “Tell him how you’re feeling, and he can reassure you or help to point you in the right direction.”
The child would miss her father and her friends. No matter how full her life on the Continent became, she’d always long for the land of her birth. Hopefully, Mr. Ferron was a good sailor, for there would be countless transatlantic crossings in the man’s future.
What a fool Giles had been to expect Louisa’s parents to only visit at holidays or christenings! He hadn’t known the loving support of a close family, nor had he felt a sense of belonging to anyone or anything except Granborough.
Louisa was beloved by many people. Now she belonged to both an English world and an American one—and Giles supposed, by their marriage, he did, too.
A strange thought, for he’d always considered her society to be the antithesis of his. Americans were bold, ostentatious, covetous, and so often crass. He’d spent his time among the Knickerbockers locked in a state of permanent embarrassment for them. Yet he’d grown to enjoy Louisa’s assertive nature, her opinions on everything from tea kettles to trade unions, and her shameless enjoyment of life’s finer things. She had money, but was not governed by it.
She’d never known a cold night, an empty belly, or even a cruel word.
Rather than resent all of Louisa’s many blessings, Giles respected her for them. He longed to embrace those freedoms that she’d always known and to become a part of her family.
As the polka drew to a close, Mr. Ferron returned to collect his daughter. Louisa enveloped the girl in a tight embrace, whispering a few last-minute words of advice in Miss Minnie Ferron’s ear.
Giles watched the duo depart, hoping the child took Louisa’s encouragement to heart. One really oughtn’t to rush into marriage, especially devoid of any fond feelings for one’s spouse. A hasty, passionless union often ended in disappointment.
He turned to Louisa, who had taught him so much. “Four days married and you’re full of wifely wisdom.”
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t have listened when I was her age, but at least I tried.”
“You showed kindness to a vapid child.”
“I don’t think she’s vapid, but maybe inexperienced and uncertain, and only now learning how to navigate the wider world around her. Pretty clothes help women to be seen. Education gives us opinions, but an advantageous marriage offers us an outlet through which to voice them. We all wish to be heard, Giles,” his wife said, taking his hand, “and to feel important to someone.”
Louisa had felt unseen and unheard. She knew the frustrations of modern young women whose opinions were disregarded, whose futures and finances passed from father to husband. She’d offered Miss Ferron the wisdom of hindsight. She’d offered Giles a glimpse into this secret sisterhood where ladies looked out for one another, and made the best of situations—education, occupation, marriage, and motherhood—that weren’t geared in their favor.
A fellow could learn a great deal from the fairer sex if he sat back and listened.
Giles looked into his wife’s eyes, marveling at yet another facet of this complex individual he’d pledged to spend his life with. Her irises were a misty sea-water blue. Fathoms deep and beautifully suited to her fair, flawless complexion.
A day or two ago, he would not have been able to recall the color of her eyes. He would not have bothered to notice, though he’d kissed her, coupled with her, and held their faces so near that he’d mingled breath with her.
He hadn’t wanted to look too close, to observe too much, for her reality complicated his plans. After seeing her, knowing her, and caring for her, Louisa could never be a means to an end. She was his bright new beginning.
Giles lifted her gloved hand to his lips, vowing, “You have my undivided attention.”
“Thank you.” She smiled. Surely, she knew it was true. He’d never felt more earnest in his life.
The first gentle melody of a waltz began—“After the Ball”, a sad yet wildly popular tune he recognized from his time in the States. It was, perhaps, an unsuitable song for newlyweds to dance to, but Giles took a gamble. “Will you dance with me, dear?”
She allowed him to escort her onto the floor. They felt the crowded assembly room’s attention shift, for everyone wished to spy Lord and Lady Granborough sharing their first dance as a married couple.
He took her in his arms, sweeping her across the makeshift dance floor. They rose and fell together as he led her in the steps. Louisa held her hems aloft, managing her skirts and petticoats with ease when one mistake might’ve tripped her up. With her back to the world and her eyes focused on his, she trusted him.
They were partners—not only on the dance floor, but in life, as well.
