Kay's Story pt 8 - The British Stranger

His accent betrayed that he was most likely British.  The close breath on her ear reached her nose with the smell of strong drink.  She started a little, but then raised her voice to answer, “That’s Westmoreland Davis, the governor of Virginia.”  He nodded in understanding and mouthed a silent “I see” as the claps slowly subsided.  When he resumed staring forward she peered up at his profile, admiring what she saw with her whole heart.  There was seldom a time Elianna could remember being struck through with stunned awe at a man’s appearance so suddenly, and without the slightest knowledge of his person.  He was a man whose broad shoulders and magnificent skin made her feel as though she had been thrown overboard into a sea of music and twilight.  She was not accustomed to being drawn like this to strong jaws and blonde hair that came down almost to the base of his neck, luxuriant and glossy in the dawning sun.  She resented what she saw as masculine perfection, and quickly tried to rationalize and shore up the reaction stirring inside her.  He did not look at her again and she was glad of it.  She needed to leave and regain her composure.  All of these sentiments were strange and foolish to her.  The governor’s speech was almost over and she no longer knew what he was saying.  Someone yelled and more applause followed.  She turned abruptly to leave and stumbled, dropping her hat at the man’s feet.  Embarrassed, she peered up at him.  He had not noticed.  Carefully she inched over to him and snatched it up, scurried back to her room, and shut the door with a panicked slam. 

            Once the ship had launched, Elianna found herself glad to be in the midst of the open ocean, the scent of salient adventure in the breeze, the romance of a voyage full of uncertainty and surprise.  She would be aboard this vessel for the better part of two weeks, and she had grand plans for accomplishing much along the way.  She would spend a good portion of it reviewing old textbooks she had brought along.  If she was to be a governess she had much to remember about history and mathematics especially.  For pleasure she had brought along the copy of Anne of Green Gables David had given her when it first appeared.  What depths of light had wrapped around her heart as she drank in the words of that book, sipping each sentence and savouring it like a fine, aged wine.  It had been too long since she had reveled in the delicate music and soft contours of that writing. 

            Also on her to-do list were various letters that should be written, Latin exercises, and the haunting Silvia diary that stared silently at her from her bedside table.  She signed and reached for it.  Opening it, she read,

November 14, 1909

Here I am trying this diary again.  The outside of it is handsome enough to make me want to write in it more often than I do.  David invited me to his family’s picnic in the pretty meadow behind the Ashmore property.  Why?  Because I am beautiful.  Oh, that felt ever so vain to write, but can I help confessing the truth of it?  I feel rather wicked to so much enjoy the power my looks seem to have over him.  Men can be so simple and easy to control sometimes.  All it takes is a pair of sweet eyes and just the right dress—and they will stand on their head if you ask.  David adores the clothes I wear and he often says so to me. 

     Last time I wrote I was convinced that I had fallen in love with David, but perhaps I was hasty in that conclusion.  David is a jolly fellow, and he has definitely affected me in some marvelous ways, but…  Oh, it seems so silly of me when put on paper like this!  David is so serious.  Serious about marriage, serious about his God.  The prospect of matrimony still frightens me, and I still feel so young and inexperienced.  I fear that if David were given the choice, he might marry me tomorrow—if it were possible.  Father says I am dreadfully stupid in these sorts of concerns, and that I am at risk of becoming one of those dastardly independent women of whom we hear so much nowadays.  Perhaps father has good right to measure me in this way, but I am still young and able to grow. 

     David is very serious about God.  I think I already mentioned that fact.  I used to fancy myself to be fairly religious and able to speak well on spiritual subjects, but I am afraid it does not condition my life in the way it does David’s.  For one thing, my heart is not in the things of God like his.  I am able to say what I believe he wants to hear, and speak as zealous people I have met or read of because I know he is eager for me to be so.  And I must admit I want ever so much to please and impress when in the company of handsome, interested men.  Father says I have always had the facility for show and parroting what I have heard elsewhere with convincing accuracy.  David appears to have believed that I am even so devoted to religion that I would become a foreign missionary if I ever had the notion!  While I’m flattered he could think such a noble thing of me, I shudder to think what might happen if he were to discover my bluff.  At any rate, I am happy to maintain appearances for the short remainder of my time here.  This fling with D. Ashmore will most likely end when the great Atlantic comes between us.

Elianna’s heart beat fast as she slammed the book shut, her blood quivering with anger. 

            “How could he have been so blind?!” she yelled with hot vehemence.  “I knew it all along!  I knew it!  Why couldn’t he see it?!”
            She tried to occupy her thoughts with other things but finally gave up and went for a walk out on the deck.  She spotted some children with their father playing a rowdy game.  On their right was the governor and his wife watching the lowering sun.  She passed more couples like them, until out of the corner of her eye she saw the handsome man with long blonde hair standing next to a woman who looked very much like a fairytale princess.  He was smoking a pipe with absolute calm, and with a confidence about him that looked almost deceptive.  She was talking to him with an air of dignity, with graceful, proper expression and gesture.  This princess at second glance looked more like a goddess to Elianna, with fair long tresses—soft, golden lightning—and features as tender as a daffodil’s heart, intricate and smooth, silky as moonlit water.  The figure beneath her simple dress showed lithe and supple contours, and spoke of the joy of Spring.  Elianna, in spite of herself, stopped momentarily to gawk rather foolishly and caught her breath at the beauty before her.  These two people belonged together.  No question about it, Elianna thought.  When the woman looked over and noticed her, she resumed her stroll to the galley for supper.