Page 32 of Just Imagine
“I’m sure that’s not so.”
“The South has been raised on self-delusion. It’s like mother’s milk to us, this belief in our invincibility. But I, for one, have given up self-delusion. The South isn’t invincible, and neither am I.”
“Is it so very bad?”
He moved her toward the edge of the ballroom. “You haven’t been to Rutherford for years. Everything’s different. Carpetbaggers and scalawags are running the state. Even though South Carolina’s about to be readmitted to the Union, Yankee soldiers still patrol the streets and look the other way when respectable citizens are accosted by riffraff. The state legislature’s a joke.” He spat out the last word as if it were venomous. “Living here, you can’t have any idea what it’s like.”
She felt guilty, as if she had somehow shirked her duty by deserting the South to go to school in New York. The music ended, but she wasn’t ready for the dance to be over. And maybe Brandon wasn’t, either, because he made no move to release her. “I imagine you already have a partner for the supper dance.”
She nodded, then heard herself saying, “But since you’re a neighbor and leaving New York tomorrow, I’m certain Mr. Mayhew won’t object to stepping aside.”
He lifted her hand and brushed the back of it with his lips. “Then he’s a fool.”
Elsbeth swooped down on her the moment he took his leave and dragged her to the sitting room that had been set aside for the ladies to tidy themselves.
“Who is he, Kit? All the girls are talking about him. He looks like a poet. Oh, my! Your bows are coming untied, and you already have a spot on your skirt. And your hair . . .” She pushed Kit down in front of the mirror and snatched out the filigreed silver combs she’d given her last year as a birthday present. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t let me put it up for tonight. It looks so wild like this.”
“For the same reason I wouldn’t let you lace me into a corset. I don’t like anything that takes away my freedom.”
Elsbeth gave her an impish smile. “You’re a woman. You’re not supposed to have any freedom.”
Kit laughed. “Oh, Elsbeth, what would I have done without you these last three years?”
“Gotten expelled.”
Kit reached up and squeezed her hand. “Have I ever said thank you?”
“A hundred times. And I’m the one who should thank you. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d never have learned to stand up for myself. I’m sorry Father’s being so beastly. I’ll never forgive him for not believing you.”
“I don’t want to come between you and your father.”
“I know you don’t.” Elsbeth renewed her attack on Kit’s hair. “Why do I bother to scold you for being so untidy? You hardly do anything the way a young lady is supposed to, yet half the men in New York are in love with you.”
Kit made a face in the mirror. “Sometimes I don’t like the way they look at me. As if I’m not wearing any clothes.”
“I’m sure you’re imagining it.” Elsbeth finished securing the combs and wound her arms around Kit’s shoulders. “It’s just that you’re so beautiful, they can’t help looking at you.”
“Silly.” Kit laughed and jumped up from her chair. “His name is Brandon Parsell, and he’s taking me in to supper.”
“Supper? I thought Mr. Mayhew . . .”
But it was too late. Kit had already left.
A waiter came by with a third tray of petits fours. Kit started to reach for one, then caught herself just in time. She’d already had two, and she’d eaten every bite of the food she’d piled onto her plate. If Elsbeth had noticed—as most assuredly she had—Kit would receive another lecture. Templeton Girls ate sparingly at social occasions.
Brandon took the accusingly empty plate from her and set it aside. “I confess to enjoying a pipe after dinner. Would you be agreeable to showing me the garden? That is, if you don’t mind the smell of tobacco.”
Kit knew she should be with Bertrand Mayhew now, showing him stereoptic views of Niagara Falls and leading him to a marriage proposal, but she couldn’t summon the will to excuse herself. “I don’t mind at all. When I was younger, I smoked tobacco myself.”
Brandon frowned. “As I recall, your childhood was unfortunate and best forgotten.” He led her toward the doors that opened into the school’s garden. “It’s amazing how well you’ve managed to overcome the adversity of your upbringing, not to mention being able to live for so long with these Yankees.”
She smiled as he led her along a brick path hung with paper lanterns. She thought of Elsbeth, Fanny Jennings, Margaret Stockton, and even Mrs. Templeton. “They’re not all bad.”
“What about the Yankee gentlemen? How do you feel about them?”
“Some are pleasant, others not.”
He hesitated. “Have you received any proposals of marriage?”
