Page 49 of Disenchanted
My stepmother made no further protest, but she appeared quite uneasy. As Amy left to fetch Crushington, Netta and I scrambled to clear away some of the sewing debris. I had just retrieved a pin cushion from beneath the settee when Amy returned with the commander in tow.
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Horatio Crushington could be an intimidating figure when riding through Midtown, his piercing gaze fixed on the populace. He was even more formidable as he snapped to attention, the blue jacket and dun-colored pantaloons of his uniform starched to crisp perfection. I had always realized that he was a large man, tall and broad shouldered. Never had he appeared more overwhelmingly masculine than he did when surrounded by our dainty parlor furniture.
He doffed his black beret and bent in a stiff bow. “Good afternoon, ladies.”
My stepmother murmured a greeting. My sisters curtsied and ogled the commander with an interest they had never shown before. Whether it was because they were still hoping to discover he was part ogre or simply because it was a novelty for me to have a prospective suitor, I could not tell.
I held out my hand and smiled, trying to look glad to see him and not like someone plotting to rob the king. “Good afternoon, Commander. How kind of you to call.”
“Kind of you to receive me,” he said gruffly. His large hand engulfed mine. His steady grey eyes drank me in as though it had been twelve months since we parted, and he had been parchedfor the sight of me. The man seemed oblivious to my disordered curls or worn frock.
When moments passed and Crushington continued to hold my hand, muffled giggles escaped from my stepsisters. The commander reddened and released me at once. I cast a quelling frown at the girls before saying, “Please do be seated, sir.”
Crushington cast a dubious look at one of the delicate armchairs. He lowered himself gingerly onto the silk cushion. The rest of us settled into our seats and an awkward silence descended.
Crushington cleared his throat. “I trust I have not called at an inopportune moment.”
“As a matter of fact—” Imelda began.
“Not at all,” I said hastily. “We needed a rest from our sewing. May I offer you some tea, Commander?”
“No, I thank you, but I would not put you to any trouble.”
“It would not be any trouble,” Netta spoke up. “Ella makes excellent tea and biscuits. She is quite the best cook and seamstress in all of Midtown.”
I winced as I realized what my sister was doing. Scenting the possibility of a romance between me and Crushington, she was attempting to help by singing my praises. She often did the same for Amy. Much as I loved Netta for it, I wanted to clap my hand over her mouth as she continued enthusiastically, “Ella quite excels at everything.”
“Indeed,” Amy said, slanting a mischievous look at me. “You will quite adore her— I mean her strawberry jam.”
Forget using my hand, I thought as heat flooded my cheeks. I needed pillows to stifle my sisters.
Crushington smiled and said, “I am sure Miss Ella’s jam is excellent, but I really only stopped by to see if she is entirely recovered from—”
I cut him off with a shake of my head, trying to warn him I did not want my assault mentioned before my family. Taking the hint, he subsided, but my stepmother demanded, “Recovered from what?”
Crushington appeared at a loss. Obviously, the man was not as adept at inventing instant fiction as I was.
“My headache,” I filled in quickly.
“But, Ella, you never have headaches,” Amy protested.
“That day I did, but yes, as a rule, I am seldom ill.”
“Besides being so beautiful, Ella is the healthiest girl,” Netta said eagerly. I stifled a groan.
“Indeed, Miss Ella always appears quite—” Crushington floundered beneath the weight of my sisters’ anticipatory stares. “Quite robust,” he finished.
More smothered titters issued from my sisters. If I had been sitting closer, I would have poked them. Crushington kneaded his beret, looking uncomfortable and embarrassed.
My stepmother had been unusually quiet since the commander entered the parlor. When she began to question Crushington, I heartily wished she had remained that way.
“What about you, Commander? Have you been well?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you, madam.”
“And what about your family?”
