Read Online The Immortal American (The Immortal American Series) by L. B. Joramo - Free Book Online
Authors: L. B. Joramo
Ads: Link
in floral scents, I washed away the thoughts of Mathew, of getting married, of responsibilities. I was in Boston, going to meet Jacque. I felt like giggling like Hannah and clapping and jumping at the same time too.
Before we dressed, Hannah had insisted on pinning my hair up. I was a little frightened with all the teasing of my hair, but when I looked in the mirror, I confess, my sister had done a job that a less assuming Queen Marie Antoinette would be envious of with my black tresses waved, curled and poofed into perfection.
The dress Hannah had sewn for me was of the deepest, richest color of blue I had ever seen in silk, but I had seen many times in a man’s eyes. I badgered her about where she had gotten the money for such a lavish dress, but stopped once I saw my reflection in the looking glass.
“My Lord, Hannah, I—I look like a woman!”
My sister chuckled and nodded. “Yes, you do look a bit more feminine.”
“You’re a miracle worker,” I gushed. “Truly. Do you see me? I look gorgeous!”
For the last two weeks I’d been sure Jacque couldn’t possibly have any attraction to a woman like me, because I had been so busy on my farm, getting ready for planting, which meant wearing muddy breeches and having dirt under my nails. Often I’d meet Jacque without checking my countenance, I’d been in such a rush to see him. And there had been more than once that he’d rubbed crusty dirt from my cheeks. But this night my skin glowed as much as the silk of my dress, if not more. The dress was dark as was my hair, but my arms, shoulders and face were light–creamy. My eyes looked like two emeralds, shining out in the evening’s light. I looked nothing like a woman who had just spent yesterday ankle deep in mud sprinkled with manure.
Hannah laughed louder as she pinched her cheeks. “Humility, thy name is not Buccleuch.”
“Well, good grief, with a dress like this, I can’t be modest. Look at me!”
“I am. Quit boasting, beautiful sister.”
“I’m singing praise of your talents, Hannah. My God, but I’m stunning, thanks to you.”
Hannah snickered and shook her head. Then, after I swallowed and embarrassedly bit the inside of my lip, I smiled and professed, “But I’m nothing compared to my most beautiful sister and mother, of course.”
My mother playfully swatted my bottom through my petticoats and skirt. “Oh, please, Violet, you do not have your sister’s flair for playacting. Now, go on, I want to hear how gorgeous you are, daughter.”
“No. I’m done now. Thoroughly, humbly, done.”
“Are you quite sure?” My mother’s blonde eyebrows flicked up with her quick laugh.
I nodded and subdued my own giggle while continuing to bite my lip.
We were escorted to the dining room by the same young girl who had given us welcome. Everything was a haze until I saw him. The corridors to get to him, I don’t remember what they looked like; what my sister and mother had discussed as we traversed to him, I would never be able to recall. I just saw him: Jacque.
He was talking and laughing with a small group of men at a table. He stood beside the table, and turned with a happy smile to my sister and mother. I had straggled behind, unsure of my own reaction at seeing him, and when I finally emerged from my sister’s back, I saw him stagger—or was that my imagination? I could have sworn he swayed; his smile removed with serious contemplation, and his eyes began to darkly glow blue. His lucent gaze quickly skipped down my body, dipping for a brief pause at my chest, but then he closed his eyes. In another moment his face grew austere. He opened his eyes and turned into a smiling statue. He righted himself and bowed deeply at us three. From the moment of his sway to his bow might have only taken a second, so it might have been only my dreaming mind, making up the scenario that he was so affected by me. I was deep in blue.
My mother was the first to curtsy, then my sister, and
Before we dressed, Hannah had insisted on pinning my hair up. I was a little frightened with all the teasing of my hair, but when I looked in the mirror, I confess, my sister had done a job that a less assuming Queen Marie Antoinette would be envious of with my black tresses waved, curled and poofed into perfection.
The dress Hannah had sewn for me was of the deepest, richest color of blue I had ever seen in silk, but I had seen many times in a man’s eyes. I badgered her about where she had gotten the money for such a lavish dress, but stopped once I saw my reflection in the looking glass.
“My Lord, Hannah, I—I look like a woman!”
My sister chuckled and nodded. “Yes, you do look a bit more feminine.”
“You’re a miracle worker,” I gushed. “Truly. Do you see me? I look gorgeous!”
For the last two weeks I’d been sure Jacque couldn’t possibly have any attraction to a woman like me, because I had been so busy on my farm, getting ready for planting, which meant wearing muddy breeches and having dirt under my nails. Often I’d meet Jacque without checking my countenance, I’d been in such a rush to see him. And there had been more than once that he’d rubbed crusty dirt from my cheeks. But this night my skin glowed as much as the silk of my dress, if not more. The dress was dark as was my hair, but my arms, shoulders and face were light–creamy. My eyes looked like two emeralds, shining out in the evening’s light. I looked nothing like a woman who had just spent yesterday ankle deep in mud sprinkled with manure.
Hannah laughed louder as she pinched her cheeks. “Humility, thy name is not Buccleuch.”
“Well, good grief, with a dress like this, I can’t be modest. Look at me!”
“I am. Quit boasting, beautiful sister.”
“I’m singing praise of your talents, Hannah. My God, but I’m stunning, thanks to you.”
Hannah snickered and shook her head. Then, after I swallowed and embarrassedly bit the inside of my lip, I smiled and professed, “But I’m nothing compared to my most beautiful sister and mother, of course.”
My mother playfully swatted my bottom through my petticoats and skirt. “Oh, please, Violet, you do not have your sister’s flair for playacting. Now, go on, I want to hear how gorgeous you are, daughter.”
“No. I’m done now. Thoroughly, humbly, done.”
“Are you quite sure?” My mother’s blonde eyebrows flicked up with her quick laugh.
I nodded and subdued my own giggle while continuing to bite my lip.
We were escorted to the dining room by the same young girl who had given us welcome. Everything was a haze until I saw him. The corridors to get to him, I don’t remember what they looked like; what my sister and mother had discussed as we traversed to him, I would never be able to recall. I just saw him: Jacque.
He was talking and laughing with a small group of men at a table. He stood beside the table, and turned with a happy smile to my sister and mother. I had straggled behind, unsure of my own reaction at seeing him, and when I finally emerged from my sister’s back, I saw him stagger—or was that my imagination? I could have sworn he swayed; his smile removed with serious contemplation, and his eyes began to darkly glow blue. His lucent gaze quickly skipped down my body, dipping for a brief pause at my chest, but then he closed his eyes. In another moment his face grew austere. He opened his eyes and turned into a smiling statue. He righted himself and bowed deeply at us three. From the moment of his sway to his bow might have only taken a second, so it might have been only my dreaming mind, making up the scenario that he was so affected by me. I was deep in blue.
My mother was the first to curtsy, then my sister, and
Similar Books
