#everlastingrandom

“Even so. As it is I am expected to prattle along until I keep house for whichever man deigns to make me an offer.” The forwardness of her words practically made Lup tremble. The distance between her and Barry seemed incredibly vast, and she longed, for a terrible moment, to be more openly his sweetheart, for though everyone in Town seemed to sense their connection, she could not link her arm with his and feel the strength and weight of him beside her, and had to make do with the faint energy of one who is close but yet not close enough to touch. She abruptly missed their first dance, and wished, foolishly, to have taken better advantage of the opportunity to touch him, when she had it.

 “It is a disheartening way to live,” she said, for the truth in it, and desperate, perhaps for comfort, and perhaps for clever mister Bluejeans to read between the lines, to see that he was one of those who could release her from the utter precarity of her circumstances, and more happily, perhaps, than any other soul on earth.

For truly, with him, she thought that perhaps she could be happy. That they could have a companionship in intellect as well as in affection, one that she could hardly have hoped for upon her arrival to London, nearly five months ago now.

“You speak of yourself very meanly, Miss Taaco,” Barry  responded, after a time, and Lup laughed with no humor.

“I speak the truth, meanly or no,” she said. She could not bring herself to brighten her words, the depth of her anxiety dragging her out of levity’s reach.

At this the gentleman paused a long moment, and the sound of birds’ wings and trills, and the footfalls of himself and herself along the path were all that she heard for a long moment. Until he spoke again,

“It would be a foolish person,” he said, “who would know you more than an hour and consider you fit only to keep  house.” He spoke in that stilted way that Lup had come to know well, the words coming slow and soft and in such a manner that she could hardly help but understand, in her deepest heart, that his intention was to tell the absolute truth, as he understood it, without alteration.

“You carry as sharp a wit as any of my colleagues,” he continued, “and as great a natural aptitude for the scientific arts, that you have consistently been a most stimulating conversational partner, these several weeks, without the benefit of the extensive education many others enjoy.” Lup flushed, half in shame at his oblique reference to her lack of fortune and circumstance, her greatest failure in the eyes of Society, and her greatest blemish. But the other half of it was no doubt in the sincerest throes of flattery, that he should speak of her so. 

Mister Bluejeans, she knew now, was not one to embellish needlessly, in his kindness to others. Though as good and generous a man as any she had known, Lup could not imagine that his words were meant only to flatter her unduly. Such counterfeit would not suit Barry, not in any reality she could imagine. 

“There is no lady in all my acquaintance,” he said, soft, “whose mind I admire more. It is a great injustice indeed, that the whole of society should underestimate you, when you are more than worthy of their highest esteem.”

Lup almost could feel tears coming to her eye at his words.

“Mister Bluejeans,” she said, her voice weak, “You are surely too kind.”

“I am exactly as kind as you deserve,” he answered, though Lup thought she could hear perhaps the barest tremor in his voice with the words. And indeed, Lup had hardly ever heard him speak in so forward a manner before, without the barest opportunity for misinterpretation to be found. He was always plain of speech, but never had Lup been on the receiving end of such unmitigated compliments. 

The day was fine, and the sun was shining down upon them, and the season would be over soon, and Lup, for perhaps the first time, allowed in herself a kind of happiness to blossom such as she had never thought she would feel in her life. For this was what it must be like, she thought, to be in love, and she was now certain, loved in return. For surely Barry must love her, with the time that he chose to spend by her side, and with his words, seemingly designed to cut her to the quick and lay her bare. She was certain he could see all of her heart stretched out before him, and she waited to see how he would act upon the information written upon it. 

“Perhaps it need not be necessary,” he said, after another several minutes of silence, “that you be forced into one circumstance or another.” Lup’s heart quickened in her chest, and she could scarcely believe her ears. “Perhaps marriage need not be… so stifling as you imagine it, if your husband were of a mind to pay sufficient respect to your intellectual capabilities alongside the pleasure of your company.”

Lup could hardly breathe. 

“I do not think I should find it stifling at all, mister Bluejeans,” she said, breathless, desperate, “if that were the case.” She swallowed, and wondered how much further she dared go. 

“In fact,” she pushed, “I think I should like that very much.”

And at that, Lup seemed to feel a tension roll off of his shoulders, by proxy, and saw, from the corner of her eye, an almost resolute nod, and he seemed inclined to speak no more, while Lup kept her pace silently beside him, and choked on her own anticipation. 

For surely, his words were as good as a proposal, in everything but name? What else could he be alluding to, with such talk, but a marriage between the two of them? And in a matter of minutes Lup’s life had turned on a dime, and suddenly all of her terror and discomfort and pain seemed they could vanish at a simple word from mister Bluejeans’ lips- 

If only he would ask her. 

But he spoke no more, just then, and Lup’s heart, as they took their turn around the park, slowly returned to a more sedate pace to match her breaths and her steps, and they spent a good fifteen minutes in a not-uncomfortable silence. 

Which, if his words had not before, only sealed Lup’s heart further in its conviction toward the man beside her. 

Here was someone, she thought, who must care for her, to have sought her out. Who must surely understand how perfectly suited he was to her desires for her own future and for companionship in marriage. With whom she could speak and feel at ease, and more, with whom she could be silent and feel no pressure to chatter needlessly and fill the air. 

He was perfect, Lup thought, practically sick with it, and she could not imagine another day without him. 

After a time, their ramble came to an end, and mister Bluejeans turned, as Lup saw the Captain catching up to them, from down the path, where he had been walking a good quarter-mile behind. 

“Miss Taaco,” Barry said, his blue eyes warm behind his spectacles, and weighty, so that Lup hung upon his every word. “Do you think the good captain would permit me to call upon you tomorrow, at his home?”

And Barry had already called to the Captain’s home many times. There could be but one reason why he was asking, as Captain Davenport was the closest thing Lup had to a guardian, and it could not have escaped Barry’s notice that while he had no right to deny any suitor Lup’s hand, Barry could ask for permission to see her, and it would be nearly the same. 

Her heart ached with his gallantry.

“Mister Bluejeans,” she breathed. “The Captain has always said that I am free to extend his invitation to any visitors I please, while I am here in Town.” Yes, he would be happy to have you. “Plus,” she added, “he considers you a friend. I am sure that he would be more than happy to see you call.” He will approve. 

Barry smiled, then, and it nearly killed her, and with a bow, and the barest brush of his lips to the back of her gloved hand, he bid her a farewell until tomorrow, and turned, and left the park, just as the Captain made his way to stand beside her. 

“That’s sorted, then?” he asked, in his brusque way. Lup thought she could feel her hand tingling through her glove, still warm from where Barry’s lips brushed against it. 

“He wishes to call upon the house  tomorrow,” she said faintly, still staring, quite shamelessly, at his retreating form. 

The captain’s hand came up to rest upon her shoulder, and he gave her something of a squeeze and an awkward pat. 

“Congratulations, then, lass,” he said. “I daresay you could not have done any better.”