Just this one last time,he promised himself. All he wished to do was show her how the work on the orphanage was coming along. That was a good reason to take her away from the rest of the world, and spend an uninterrupted two, hopefully three hours with her. So, with that in mind, he sent her word of his plan early in the morning. Her response was read with a palpitating heart and trembling fingers.
Dear Alexander,
I shall be waiting at two o’clock, as per your suggestion.
Cordially,
Marjorie
Her handwriting was dainty, lady-like. It was completely unlike the handwriting she had started off with. When his father brought her to their home, she could not write her own name, nor read it. Now, she carried herself in the manner of a dignified lady. Although Alexander was certain that the frightened child who grew up on the streets was still inside of her, still an integral part of who she was. It was also an integral part of why he loved her. He could admit it to himself now easily. She was the sweetest, kindest, most thoughtful person he had ever met. She always put the needs of others ahead of her own. As such, she was deserving of someone who would treat her like the queen that she was.
But he kept reminding himself that if she felt the same way about him, he would know. He would notice it somehow, or she would hint at it. The kindness that she bestowed upon him was merely a friendly gesture in the act of forgiving him for being the ignorant arse he had always been.
Several minutes before two o’clock, he found himself knocking on her door. Her endearingly clumsy servant girl rushed to inform Marjorie of his arrival, and the moment she descended the stairs, he realized he could not stop staring at her. Her gown was the color of sandy beaches, with little pearls adorning her collar. Her sleeves slid down her thin, willowy arms, making her appear to be a forest nymph from the legends of yore.
“Alexander?” he smiled at him. “You seem pensive.”
“I… I am,” he smiled back. “I’m excited to show you what we have done so far.” Explaining his utter lack of manners with the thrill of the home being built was a good strategy. But he had to remain focused. He could not allow himself to get lost in thoughts on her ethereal beauty.
“Edith would not be joining us today?” he wondered, leading her to his carriage.
“No,” she shook her head, getting in, waiting for him to close the door and join her. “She is with the children at the inn. She brought over some food for baby Henry. He is teething as well, so he is being quite a handful for his sister.”
“That girl is just…” he sighed, unable to find the right word for it.
“Astonishing,” Marjorie found it for him. “You should see the gentleness with which she tends to him.”
“That is exactly what I meant to say,” he confirmed, as they both got pulled backwards by the strength of the carriage moving in the opposite direction, taking them to their destination. “She is astonishing, taking care of him as if she were his own mother.”
“His mother died giving birth to him,” Marjorie explained, and he could hear the anguish in her voice. Perhaps she even knew the young woman in question. He dared not ask. “Rose was a lovely young woman, who did not have the good fortune I did.” She looked away, almost feeling guilty that fate had saved her in such a manner by sending her a guarding angel in the guise of the late earl.
“But I see what you are doing now,” he said tenderly, as he gazed at her, seated across from her in the carriage. “You are helping them just like my father has helped you.”
“Hardly,” she endeavored a smile, although it was a weak one. “I do not have the means for it.”
“I do,” he reminded her. “And I promise you that this house will have everything you could have imagined needing when you were…” He could not finish the sentence. The thought of her being cold and alone on the streets pained him now more than ever.
“It means so much to me,” she smiled, genuinely this time. “To the children as well.”
“I think you shall be very happy with the work we have managed to cover so far,” he beamed with pride.
The rest of the short journey passed by in a pleasant conversation regarding the children who were still awe-struck by what he had done the previous day. He enjoyed her chuckles and giggles, wondering how he would ever live without hearing them every single day. The thought of her presence and her voice gracing the ears and eyes of some other man, even his friend Percival, made him furious. Yet, there was nothing he could do about it but live with the burden he was dealt.
The moment the carriage stopped, he got out first and offered her his hand. The touch was electric, like two currents of heat striking at each other, creating an explosion. He realized he was gawking at her as if he had never seen a woman in his entire life. He blinked away his obsession. Now if he could only blink it out of his mind and heart that easily as well.
She released his hand quickly, then headed towards the house which seemed to have been stripped down to its bones initially, only to be made up again from the very bottom up. He followed her. He enjoyed her curiosity as she felt the new windows with the tips of her fingers. She walked through the doorframe, passing by a few workers who nodded politely to her. One of them stared at her even long after she disappeared, and the man next to him clapped him over the head with his cap. Alexander resisted chuckling at this funny episode because he knew exactly how that man felt. He himself could barely keep his eyes off her, yet she seemed not to be aware of the power she possessed, the beauty and magic that graced her every move, her every smile.
She climbed up the stairs and entered the first room on the right. He followed closely behind. It was still an empty room, with large windows that allowed enough light. The wooden floors were all done, but still dirty from all the work. He could see that she was satisfied.
“Is this going to be a bedroom?” she wondered, turning around as if seizing it up.
“One among many,” he confirmed. “The beds will be close together to save space.”
“When I was a child, they never had enough beds,” she spoke with her back turned to him, but he could hear the tremor in her voice as she took a trip down memory lane. “We were always made to sleep in the same bed several of us. Big, small, boys, girls, it did not matter. I was always the smallest one, no matter how big I was. I always had someone’s knee in my back, or my arm would get numb because I had to keep it underneath my head for a pillow.”
He walked closer to her. He could inhale her jasmine blossom scent, permeating not only his nostrils, but his very existence. He longed to touch her, to wrap his arms around her and whisper right into her ear that she needed not fear anything else in life, for he would be her savior, he would do her every bidding. Instead, he remained at a respectful distance, his hands feeling empty, devoid of her warmth.
“I am hoping that we will have enough beds,” he added clearing his throat a little, which more out of a need to distract himself with something tangible than an actual physical discomfort. “Both small ones for infants such as baby Henry as well as bigger children.”
