Just a Dash of Historical Fantasy! Irish Fiction: We Come Back: Vol. 1: Chapter 7.2-Waiting on a Storm
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Waiting on a Storm
As the day began, Jack felt his nerves rioting inside him.
He focused as much attention as he possibly could on individual preparations. He was running poor Fareus around the entire estate trying to plan out the perfect evening for when she arrived. Though Hoss had advised waiting a couple more days before proposing, Jack didn’t think he could stand to wait. He had planned a romantic dinner outside in a gazebo, at a part of the estate she had not yet seen, and had arranged for a violinist to play, so he could dance with her, as he knew the power within the movements.
He had dealt with Miss Delaine,
who left in the carriage crying, and announced to the rest of his company that he was planning on asking Miss Astraea to marry him. The women were more surprised than the men. Beathan clapped him on the back.
“I am so intrigued Jack, I have to say that if one woman can cause you to open up your shell this much, you would be a fool to not ask her.”
Mason shook his hand.
That Jack had the courage to ask Miss Astraea to marry him after having only known her such a small amount of time brought ideas to his mind. He watched Miss Lilly as she talked about the event with her sisters. She was such a shy, beautiful girl. He was wondering how she felt about him at that moment, when she turned and looked at him and blushed. Mason wasn’t used to the attention.
Mason grew up in a large family on a farm.
His family had worked for a well known land owner, and though they were not part of the owner’s family, the Lord had taken a special interest in him, having never had a son of his own. Mason’s own father had died in a war when he was very young, and he welcomed the influence of a fatherly figure. He spent many days at the Lord’s house, learning and listening. On one rainy afternoon, about five years ago, Mason went to the aide of the Lord, who suddenly was facing a fatal illness. Mason had done what he could, as had the doctors, but the Lord died, and no one was more distraught than he.
To his great surprise,
the Lord had considered Mason his son, so much so that he had willed the entire estate and all of his assets to him. He and his large family moved in immediately, and since then the estate has grown and flourished. Only a year after the Lord’s death did Jack meet him, and now four years later, they were close friends. Jack knew that Mason never really believed he deserved his new found position in life, but Jack disagreed entirely. There was never a more deserving man than he. Now as Jack observed the gracious rogue smiling at Miss Lilly, he hoped beyond hope that Mason would muster the courage to ask her.
On another note, Joyce and Hoss had been joined
at the hip all day. Joyce occasionally brought her hands to her hair, gently brushing it back behind her ear, and using the opportunity, would glance at Hoss, just to see if he was doing the same. It was really quite encouraging. It seemed Jack could never be entirely happy if his closest friends weren’t. He had asked their opinions of Miss Astraea, and though they had only known her but a brief moment, they all agreed that she was special and more enchanted by him than even he was by her.
Now as the morning became the afternoon, he grew more and more nervous, having realized he had no idea what time she would be arriving.
He intended to ask her about her life, before proposing,
if only to keep the conversation flowing until the right moment to ask. He held the ring box in his hand, whilst he paced back and forth in the hall. He had rehearsed off and on during the day his proposal with Hoss as a Miss Astraea substitute. The longer he waited the slower it seemed the time went. He stopped pacing and walked outside.
Looking up at the sky over near the trees where she had disappeared the night before, he prayed for her return.
That morning I woke with a start,
sitting straight up in my bed sweating from another terrible nightmare. Upon realizing yet again that that was indeed what it was, I laid my head back on the pillow and let a few more tears fall out. Shortly thereafter, I heard a soft knocking on my door.
“Come in,” I called in response.
My father walked in carrying a breakfast tray.
He set it down on a chest at the end of the bed, and went to the drapes and opened them, letting in the beautiful morning sunlight. I sat up in bed, tucking the blankets around me. After placing the tray on my lap, he took a seat in a lounge chair near my bed.
“Good morning, my dearest daughter. You look as if you had a rough night, which I suppose is to be expected after our talk. How are you feeling?”
“I am much less exhausted today than I was yesterday Papa, however I did have a few horrific nightmares.”
I suddenly became very hungry, and did my best to chew my food rather than inhaling it whole.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” I managed to get out between bites.
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