Emma, Mr. Knightley, And Chili-Slaw Dogs Part 14

"I know!" She laughed, shaking her head. "You're my best friend and I kept reaching for the phone to complain about my day."

My best friend. He forced himself to breathe normally, thankful he hadn't said more.

"Let's not argue about Lexi, okay? We both want what's best for her. She'll make her own decisions in the end." She was so close that he could see the golden flecks in her green eyes. She smelled like vanilla and... he leaned forward, inhaling.

"Brooks?" There was laughter and a question in her voice.

"I just realized what you always remind me of."

"I'm afraid to hear it. My hygiene isn't the best when I don't get many visitors. Or maybe that's why I don't get many visitors." She made a face.

"Jordan almonds. You smell like Jordan almonds."

"Those pastel candy-covered almonds they serve at weddings?"

He nodded. "Must be your shampoo."

"I don't think so. But I'm glad it wasn't gingko fruit. Those trees smell like cat poo."

"No, definitely not cat poo."

"I'm going to change. I won't take long. Feel free to wander." She didn't bother to wait for his response but disappeared through the kitchen doorway.

Brooks let out a long breath and didn't move from the spot. He had come so close to ruining their friendship. If he thought last week was bad, he needed to remember that it could be a permanent situation. Caroline would never want to hurt him. If she felt being his friend, when he wanted more, was hurtful then she would cut off all contact. Obviously she cared for him. But not that way. Maybe not ever.

Misery covered him like a blanket, dampening any joy he could have felt about putting aside their differences. Like a man caught between a cliff and an army behind him, he didn't know which fate to choose. Coming clean and losing her friendship, or suffering along in silence. Then again, the battle at Parker's Cross Roads might apply to the present moment. He lifted his gaze to the pressed tin tile ceiling. Like Nathan Bedford Forrest, outflanked by Federal soldiers, maybe he should 'charge 'em both ways'.

The n.o.ble thing, the right thing, would be to fight for their friendship until he couldn't take the pain any longer. And when he reached his breaking point, he would act like the man he was and be honest with her. He had nothing to lose, after all.

Debbie Mae held up four large dry cleaning bags. "Let's see. Caroline, this one is yours." She handed it over and Caroline was surprised by the lightness of the costume. It seemed there wasn't much except the bag and the hanger.

"Sweetie, this one is yours. Jacket, shirt, pants. You can use those hobnail boots you have for the reenactments." Manning accepted his costume and shot a sly grin at Brooks.

"Here, Brooks. Yours was the hardest to find. True Regency from head to toe. As soon as you get into the shirt, we'll practice tying the cravat."

The expression on his face made Caroline hold her dress over her face to smother the laughter. It was the look of a man being walked to the gallows. She'd never thought of how Brooks could have joined the reenactments as a colonel or a lieutenant but he'd preferred to wear the threadbare uniform of a conscripted soldier. She was almost positive they had relatives who had earned a high rank in the War.

Debbie Mae clapped her hands. "Off you go. Brooks, should we change in the bathroom on the first floor?"

"That's fine, there's enough room for both of us to be throwing our clothes around." Caroline answered, not waiting for Brooks to bother showing them the way.

"Actually, the pipes are being torn out and redone." He shrugged. "Always something in these places. Come on back and use my room. Manning and I will change in his old room."

They followed him back along the narrow hallway, pa.s.sing the kitchen, down another hallway and past the smaller rooms that were once servants' quarters. He started up a narrow staircase, a smooth groove worn in each step. "Watch the top step, it's got a bit of an overhang. It took me weeks to stop tripping on it."

"Why do you sleep back here again?" Debbie Mae wrinkled her nose. "Manning's old room is really lovely. What's wrong with yours?"

"Just the morning sun hitting my face at the crack of dawn."

"Did you try black out curtains?" Caroline didn't mind the sun. It was like a natural alarm clock.

"Yes, but the crows gather in the elm right outside. There's no curtain that can block out that infernal cawing."

"I didn't know you weren't a morning person. Don't you and Caroline go running every morning?"

"Not every morning, no." He turned down a narrow hallway and opened a plain oak door. "Ignore the mess."

They trooped into the room and gazed around. An armoire stood sentry in the corner. Every wall held mahogany floor-to-ceiling bookcases except for a s.p.a.ce for an old painting and one area that held an antique roll top desk. The desk faced a simple window with double hung panes of gla.s.s. It was tidy, except for the stacks of books by the bed and a few papers on the bedside table. The bed wasn't particularly wide but certainly long enough to accommodate a full grown man.

"Cozy," Debbie Mae said, eye brows raised. "You don't even have your own bathroom?"

"Sure, I do. It's right down the hall."

"No, I mean..." She opened the only other door in the room and gazed at Brooks' clothes in the deep-set closet. "An attached bathroom, like people have when they can live in any room in Badewood. I don't believe you have 35 rooms to choose from and you picked this one."

Caroline walked into the room, leaned over the desk and stared out at the view. "You can see for miles! Isn't that the creek?"

"Yup. I see some herons there every evening, looking for crawdads. I think your house is about there." He pointed over her shoulder, through the trees.

"I love this view. No wonder you moved out of the front of the house, crows or no crows." She could see him sitting here, writing articles for big New York magazines. Of course, he was only here for the summer and would leave again in a few short months. She shoved the thought away. She ran a finger along the inset panels of the desk, admiring burl pattern. It was a bigger desk than her secretary, just right for a six-footer like Brooks. She started to lift the top, wondering how his laptop fit inside and if he'd found a way to coil the cord out the back without cutting a hole.

Brooks reached over and stayed her hand. "No snooping, Finley."

"Ha! Snooping implies curiosity and I was only checking to see how-"

"Come on, you two. Let's get changed so we can see if we need to make any adjustments." Debbie Mae was already shooing Brooks from the room. He put up his hands in a 'no contest' move. Just before closing the door behind him, he shook his finger at Caroline as if to remind her to keep her paws off his stuff. Like the educated, mature woman that she was, she out stuck her tongue. A flash of his grin and the door was pulled closed.

"Okay, let's see how this thing fits." Debbie Mae pulled unzipped the dry cleaning bag and pulled the dress out.

Caroline gasped, hand to her mouth. She was shocked that the dress wasn't plain white, a little decorative piping, maybe a velvet doodad here or there. The dress was the palest blue silk, gathered right under the b.r.e.a.s.t.s and draping in long, soft folds. A sheer overlay covered the entire dress and tiny embroidered flowers dotted the netting. The neckline was scooped, not too low and edged with froths of lace. The short sleeves were trimmed with deep blue velvet. The real jaw-dropper was the hem. Sprays of flowers inched up from the border, tiny forget-me-nots and lily of the valley embroidered in a repeating pattern that was both delicate and stunning. "What is this? I thought we were going as peasant girls or something."

Debbie Mae blinked at her. "Peasant girls? Did you read the book like I told you?"

"Oh, I forgot about it. I've been busy." She forgot about the book the moment she'd read the first page and realized it wasn't in the sort of English she used.

"Well, did you even watch that movie yet? You're supposed to be Emma! She dresses impeccably, has great style, and is effortlessly beautiful."

"I don't have time to watch a six hour special." She flopped onto Brooks' bed, not caring if she disturbed the old patchwork quilt. The frame let out an alarming creak and she froze. Probably just old wood. Probably nothing to do with the PopTarts she'd been eating every morning for breakfast. She made a mental note to run a little longer tomorrow morning.

"You better get acquainted with the Regency ideas or you're going to stick out like a sore thumb."

Caroline rolled to her side and propped her head in one hand. She could smell Brooks in this room, his soap and the scent that was only his. "So everybody's going to be so amazingly in character that I'll look like I was dropped there by aliens?"

"Maybe. Think of it like Brooks and Manning going to a battle. They don't even carry stuff in their pockets that is from the wrong era."

"Not even a wallet?"

"Especially not a wallet." Debbie Mae got a dreamy look on her face. "Manning asked me for a lock of my hair. He keeps it in an old locket, sewn in the hem of his jacket."

Caroline smiled. "That's so romantic. He loves you even when he's pretending to be someone else."

"I don't deny that it's why I decided to join him on the reenactments."

"I thought it was the goat-tending." Caroline smirked, remembering how Manning was determined to be as historically accurate as possible, right down the company goat.

"It's not bad. I've learned a lot of history and met some nice folks. Seriously, maybe you should think about coming with us."

"No, no. I don't have anything to wear." She didn't really have anything better to do, but Debbie Mae didn't know that.

"Please? I'd love the company. There aren't very many women there. I get tired of being stuck in the mess tent." She unzipped her own dress from the plastic covering. It was pale green silk with soft velvet cream roses dotting the neckline and hem. Simple but elegant.

Caroline chewed her bottom lip. She felt the tug of old guilt and wondered if she'd feel better after the dance. She didn't want to get dragged all over the countryside every time Debbie Mae said she was lonely. She traced the edge of a quilt patch with one finger, admiring the tiny hand-sewn st.i.tches. It was just like Brooks to have some old thing on his bed instead of a goose down comforter from Lands' End. She looked up at the painting over the head of the bed. A Confederate soldier stood looking down, his face covered. The top half of a white cross appeared in the bottom of the frame.

Debbie Mae followed her eyes and said, "That's a real Winslow Homer. It's called 'Trooper Meditating Beside a Grave'."

"How do you know all these things? Is it because you're a teacher?" She was honestly awed by her cousin's store of knowledge, mostly because it wasn't Debbie Mae's hobby.

She rolled her eyes. "I teach fourth grade. Winslow Homer doesn't come up too much. Those two talk a lot. You've probably noticed."

Caroline thought back to the meeting at the cafe. Manning hadn't talked much. And Brooks did talk, but she was usually running over him with some story of her own. She felt a sharp pain around her ribs. She was a terrible friend, self-centered and oblivious to everyone else's interests.

"Help me get into this before the guys come back."

Caroline pulled herself upright and held the dress while Debbie Mae stripped off her striped T-shirt and red shorts. She slipped the dress over Debbie Mae's head. It was truly strange to see her cousin standing there like a woman out of Regency England.

"Maybe you're right. I should know more about the war than I do. As part of our heritage, I should be willing to do what I can to represent the women." She paused. "As long as I don't get stuck in Dr. Stroud's amputation tent, I think it might be sort of fun."

Debbie Mae threw her arms around Caroline's neck. "Really? You won't regret it! I promise!"

She laughed, knowing Debbie Mae couldn't promise any such thing. Her cousin was making an effort to reconnect with her and she was glad about that. But maybe she needed to show some support to both of her husband, too. Manning had suffered the past year, along with his wife. It wouldn't kill her to hang out at a battle ground and watch the crazies for the day. Really, how bad could it be?

"I know no man more likely than Mr. Knightley to do the sort of thing - to do anything really good-natured, useful, considerate, or benevolent. He is not a gallant man, but he is a very humane one - and for an act of unostentatious kindness, there is n.o.body whom I would fix on more than on Mr. Knightley."- Mrs. Weston

Chapter Seventeen.

Caroline held up the dress carefully with one hand. Making her way back down the narrow staircase from Brooks' room was harder than she thought. The little slippers on her feet were soft and she could feel the wood grain through the fabric. The mirror in the bathroom was much too small to see anything except her head and a few inches of the dress, so she and Debbie Mae decided to troop back to the living room. The men would be struggling into their outfits. It made her smile to think that, for once, men had a harder time getting ready than women.

Debbie Mae chattered the entire way, listing the places she'd had to call before she could find a caterer that would agree to make Regency food. Towering jello molds, meet pies, mulled wine, and all sorts of tiny sweets were on the menu. Caroline sent up a silent thank you for the lack of pink lemonade.

"I think there's a large standing mirror in the small sitting room." Debbie Mae led her down another staircase. "I think Mr. Elliot is going to have to do something about those outbuildings. This looks nice enough, but I walked through the gardens and saw someone had broken into the old schoolhouse."

Caroline sucked in a breath. "What did they do?"

She shrugged. "I couldn't tell. It's not exactly fit for guests. Maybe they just snooped around a little. He should board them up."

"Don't some of the tours go back there? The sugar cane fields are all gra.s.s, but you can still see where the slave quarters were."

Debbie Mae nodded. "But n.o.body wants to look at that sort of thing anymore. It's bad publicity. Manning said someone told them they should be ashamed to preserve any of it, that taking a torch to it would be better. I think Mr. Elliot felt like they were calling him a racist."

"Ridiculous. Just because history isn't the way we like it, doesn't mean we can change it." She didn't want to carry the burden of being the heir to Badewood, but she certainly didn't think hiding the past would help anyone. "The school visits are worth the cost to keep up the buildings. I hope he doesn't do anything sudden."

Absalom appeared and followed them to the sitting room. They stopped, side by side. A floor to ceiling gilt mirror reflected the image of two young Regency ladies. One with dark auburn hair, one with light blond curls. Debbie Mae reached out and grasped her hand. "Oh, Caroline!"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The hairstyles were wrong and they didn't have gloves and Debbie Mae had painted nails, but it was almost perfect. Absalom stood behind them, wagging the back half of his body in happiness.

The sound of someone clearing his throat made them both turn away from the mesmerizing sight of their reflection. Manning and Brooks stood there, side by side, looking nothing like brothers, more like distant cousins. "Hey, check it out." Manning spread his arms. "It's country mouse and city mouse."

One was roughly dressed, with a simple vest and old-fashioned trousers. His boots were held together with twine. Manning grinned and swept the hat from his head with a deep bow.

Brooks seemed frozen to the spot. Caroline smiled at him but he didn't respond, obviously uncomfortable in his costume. Breeches clung to his legs, tapering into tall riding boots. The deep blue morning coat fit perfectly and the white waistcoat b.u.t.tons didn't strain across his flat stomach. He put his hands on his hips and not finding pockets, just dropped them to the side, as if he didn't know what to do with them.

Debbie Mae rushed forward. "Sweetie, you are adorable." She turned Manning around, tugging at the back of his vest to see if it was too tight. "The b.u.t.t on these trousers are a bit saggy but that's probably more a problem with the man inside than the tailoring."

"Hey, now." Manning protested with a laugh. He grabbed Debbie Mae and kissed her soundly on the mouth. She reached her arms around his neck and they grinned at each other, lost in their own little world.

Brooks coughed politely. "Should we leave you two alone?"

"Later, babe." Manning gave Debbie Mae a final squeeze and let her go. Caroline laughed at the pink in her cheeks. Maybe it never got old, being in love with the same person year after year. These two made it look downright easy.

Manning's phone chirped and he looked at the display. "Andrea is coming over with catering samples."

"Right, I totally forgot. I can't wait to taste the flummery."

"I'm not sure if I want to know what that is," Manning said.

"It's a sort of jelly, but made into a mold that is shaped like a castle or a tower or just a" she wiggled one hand "big wobbly thing. The ragout of veal will be a hit, I'm sure. And the Roman punch will have to be changed a little bit. It's usually lemon water and hot syrup with a lot of rum."

"Rum and hot syrup? Maybe we could just have beer," Manning suggested "No, no beer. I want the Roman punch, but we'll have to make it non-alcoholic. I'm not feeding thirsty guests a 40 proof drink and then sending them out into the night to drive home."

"Very wise. Also, I think there will be some minors, relatives of the band. Unless we're positioning an adult by the punch table, it's better if we don't have to monitor who gets which brew," Brooks said.

"True. Well, let's get working on that tie before she gets here." She took her phone from her purse and found a pictorial how-to. "Ok, Neckclothitania is an original pamphlet someone put out to help men tie their cravats."

"Wait, say that again?" Manning had stretched out on the couch and was obviously already enjoying the idea of Brooks getting fussed over.

"Neckclothitania. Don't interrupt." Debbie Mae gave him a look and went back to her phone. "So, there are a few you can try. Um, maybe Caroline can start slow and see if the basic knot would look nice."

"Me? Why me?" Caroline held up her hands. "I don't know a thing about tying ties."

"I've got to go clear off counter s.p.a.ce and get out serving spoons. We're all going to taste the food when she brings it." Debbie Mae handed her the phone and left before she could argue.