A Most Personal Property (Ganymede Quartet Book 1) (56 page)

“Oh, pardon me,” Louis said. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Louis Briggs. Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss…?”

The girl gave her hand back to Louis to be shaken. “Bridget O’Malley,” she said. “Likewise, I’m sure.”

Louis took her hand and shook it, then did not let it go. He made a gesture that took in his friends, as well as their handsome slaves. “Perhaps we could introduce our friends to one another…?”

Bridget darted a look at her friends, who were all giggling but shaking their heads no. She pled with her eyes, but got more emphatic shakes in response. “Another time, maybe, Mr. Briggs,” she said regretfully.

“Very well, Miss O’Malley,” Louis said, releasing her hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you.” Giggling, she scampered over to join her friends, and the five of them scurried off with frequent glances back over their shoulders at the boys.

Despite being ultimately unsuccessful, Louis’ effort was seen as valuable groundwork.

“We should follow them around,” Freddie suggested. “Look for opportunities to talk to them again.”

“And maybe we’ll find some better girls in the meantime,” Gordon pointed out.

Henry just wanted to experience the attractions with Martin, but he couldn’t figure out how to assert this without seeming like a spoilsport, or odd. He kept his mouth shut and followed the other boys as they followed the girls. He could hear Martin’s happy, animated voice but could not discern his words as he chattered with his friends at Henry’s back.

“Henry should have the tall one,” Louis said.

“But she’s the prettiest one!” Gordon protested. “I say we should all have a crack at her.”

“I should think they’ll decide anyway,” Joshua pointed out. “We don’t just get to divide them up as we please.”

“Are they looking back at us? I think they’re looking at us!” Louis elbowed Charles hard and told him, “Don’t look! Act natural!”

The girls were looking at them. The tall girl, pretty, with honey-blonde hair and a very plain black hat, so plain it scarcely counted as a hat at all, smiled at Henry. Henry flinched and gave her a very half-hearted smile in return.

“Who’s she looking at?” Gordon whirled to look at Henry. “Of course it’s you,” Gordon said, disgusted. “It’s always you or Charles.”

“You should talk to her anyway,” Henry urged.

“Why? Don’t you want her?” Gordon seemed baffled. “It’s you she likes!”

“It was just a smile,” Henry insisted. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Don’t fight,” said Louis. “Come on, they’re walking again.”

They trailed the girls to the ice cream stand and watched them huddled together, counting their coins. “We should treat them,” Louis said, inspired. “Don’t you think we should?” The rest of the boys agreed this was a good idea and Joshua gave Louis a little shove forward, nearly into the back of the rabbity girl, Miss O’Malley.

“Oh, pardon me, Miss O’Malley, I very nearly collided with you. How sorry I would have been if that had happened!”

The girl blushed and simpered and assured Louis that no harm had been done. They traded inanities for a long minute and then Louis made his proposal.

“My friends”—a sweeping gesture to take in the entire group of boys—“and I were hoping that we might be allowed to treat you lovely ladies to an ice cream?”

“Oh!” said Miss O’Malley. “I—I don’t know…” The girls hurriedly conferred, giggling and darting glances at the boys. The tall girl gave Henry another smile, and Henry thought her exceedingly forward.

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Briggs,” Miss O’Malley said. “We would appreciate that very much. It’s so kind of you.”

Introductions were made. The girls were Katie Sullivan, Anna Brody, Grace Cavanaugh, and another Bridget, the tall girl, Bridget Flannery. When Miss Flannery was introduced to Henry, she met his eyes very boldly and simply stepped forward to stand at his side, as if they were already an established couple. Gordon gave Henry a foul look but started talking immediately to Miss Brody, the next-prettiest girl.

Miss Flannery had green eyes and long lashes, but what Henry noticed most about them was how inferior they were to Martin’s eyes—color, shape, everything. “This is so kind of you, Mr. Blackwell,” Miss Flannery said in a low, confidential tone, as if this was conversation that couldn’t be shared with the group, and Henry resented the intimacy it imposed. He darted a glance at Martin, who seemed utterly carefree and unconcerned. Didn’t it bother Martin that Henry was practically courting this strange woman?

Henry and Miss Flannery sat a little ways apart by her design and ate their ice cream in relative quiet, Henry very aware of the boisterous conversations the others were having, six boys competing for four girls, though Miss O’Malley seemed quite taken with Louis and inclined to stick by him. Gordon was talking in a loud, show-offy voice, and Henry tried not to listen to whatever nonsense he was spouting. Joshua was trying to impress the girls by demonstrating how loudly he could whistle, which was very loudly indeed. Freddie did a back flip off of the bench, losing his hat in the process.

Miss Flannery finished her ice cream. “Your friends are very energetic, Mr. Blackwell.”

Henry was slightly embarrassed for them and did not know how to respond to this. “Yes,” he agreed. “They are.”

As frequently happened with girls, Miss Flannery mistook Henry’s discomfort and aversion to her company for sobriety of character and maturity. “You’re different,” she said approvingly. “Have you been here before? It’s the first time for me.”

“I’ve been coming since it opened,” Henry told her. “It’s fun.”

“Grace—Miss Cavanaugh is the only one of us who’d been before,” she said, with a nod toward the girl in question. “She didn’t warn us about the…the tunnel…oh, I don’t know what you call it! The entrance!” She laughed unselfconsciously. “It was quite a surprise.”

“This was the first time for our slaves, as well,” Henry said, though he felt immediately that he probably should not have compared the girls to slaves. But having committed the faux pas, he soldiered on. “We didn’t tell them what to expect, either, and we sent them ahead of us.”

“That was unkind, don’t you think?” She smiled, though, as if his unkindness was attractive. She looked at the slaves then and asked, “Which is yours?”

“The tall one,” Henry said, “with the long, reddish hair.”

“Oh, he’s very handsome,” she said, as if approving of Henry’s choice. “Of course, they all are, aren’t they?” She didn’t wait for Henry to answer. “Do you have a lot of slaves, Mr. Blackwell?”

Henry didn’t want to lie, but he also didn’t want to say yes. “We have a fair number,” he allowed. “My father has a big house; it takes a lot of slaves to run it.” He’d meant the explanation to make things sound more reasonable, but instead it just made him sound like a rich braggart.

“I see,” said Miss Flannery. Henry blushed and looked at his hands. Miss Flannery sat up a little straighter and asked, “So what do you do, Mr. Blackwell? I’m guessing you’re in school?”

“Yes,” Henry said, with a nod towards his clowning friends. “We all go to school together.”

“I had some schooling,” Miss Flannery said, sounding a bit proud. “I only left a year ago. I have a job now, of course.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a seamstress in a shirt factory.” With a smile, she nodded at Henry’s shirtfront and said, “I might have sewn the one you’re wearing.”

Without thinking, Henry scoffed at this. “No, you couldn’t have,” he said confidently. “Mine are made for me.”

Miss Flannery seemed taken aback and colored a bit, which made Henry embarrassed, too. He didn’t really want to talk to this girl, but neither did he want to hurt her feelings or seem elitist.

In this conversational lull, Gordon called over, “Henry, do you know what yours is called?” He did not wait for Henry to reply, but said, “Tall Bridget! And this one is Short Bridget!” Miss O’Malley giggled and hid her face behind her hands.

While these hardly seemed imaginative nicknames, Henry laughed along with all the others, boys and girls alike. Without thinking, he said to Miss Flannery, “That’s like our stable; we have Old Bob the coachman and Little Bob the stable boy.”

Miss Flannery did not seem terribly happy to have been compared to stable slaves. “Hmm,” she said primly. She seemed to be reassessing Henry’s worth as even a very temporary suitor. Henry found he didn’t know now how he wanted her to behave. He would be relieved to be rid of her, yet it would be a huge blow to his ego to be rejected by some factory girl in front of his friends—and in front of Martin.

“Tell me,” Henry said, “what else do you and your friends do for fun? Do you ever go to the park?”

Miss Flannery began telling him about the dance hall that she and her friends had attended the night before and he did his best to be attentive. Martin and the rest of the slaves were behind him, so he could not see what they were doing, only hear their voices and their laughter. He could think of no good reason to call Martin to his side, and if he were to turn around to look at him, Miss Flannery might well go sit with someone else, which would be humiliating.

“…ever so many suitors, though perhaps I shouldn’t say so,” she bragged. “But boys like a good dancer, isn’t that so, Mr. Blackwell?”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Henry told her, “but I’m not much of a dancer myself.” This was not true.

“Too bad,” she said. “You’d cut a fine figure on a dance floor.” She thought a moment and said, “Maybe you just need someone to show you how.” She left an opening for Henry to ask if she would show him, but Henry did not do this. “I thought people like you were forever going to balls,” she said.

“We’re too young,” Henry told her. “There’s one in the spring that we’ll all go to, though.”

“A real dress-up ball, I’m sure,” she said, clearly envious. “All the men in tailcoats and the ladies in ball gowns.”

“Yes,” Henry agreed. With sudden inspiration, he added, “But probably not near as fun as what you’ve been telling me about. It’ll be dull. All of us doing what our parents want us to do.” While it was true that they’d be doing what their parents wanted, Henry did not believe it would be dull. There would be champagne and he’d see Martin dressed up in formal clothes.

All of them were now finished with their ice cream. Louis had Miss O’Malley hanging on his arm. Gordon and Freddie flanked Miss Brody, Charles and Joshua were poised at either of Miss Sullivan’s elbows. Robert had Miss Cavanaugh to himself. Henry stood and offered Miss Flannery his arm, darting a glance at Martin as he did so. Martin was in huddled conversation with Tom and Peter and paying no mind to Henry at all. Henry did his best to tamp down his irritation. It would be worse, after all, for Martin to be petulantly pining for him and causing a scene. But how he wanted something from him, some acknowledgment, just a bit of eye contact!

The girls had heard about the air ships and wanted to ride them, so that’s where the group headed. Other than the view, Henry did not find much admirable about the air ships, but he was not about to put this opinion forth when the others were all of one purpose and so eager. The girls seemed very pleased with all the attention they were receiving, so many boys competing for their favor. The boys were all performing at a high level, talkative and showing off. Louis seemed especially happy; while his girl was not pretty, she was very enthusiastic about him, which surely made up for her deficiencies in looks. Henry felt glad for him and wanted to do whatever he could to prolong his friend’s happy experience, but at the same time he wished he could be elsewhere, alone with Martin, and free of this unwanted girl.

After the ride, the air ships were felt by all the boys and slaves to offer an inferior view to the Ferris wheel, which the girls had not yet been on. Henry braced himself for it, but thankfully none of the others suggested that they take the girls on the Ferris wheel after exhausting the park’s interesting features.

There were a lot of attractions that were designed to fling people at one another, friends and strangers alike. Henry had only previously experienced these in the company of his school friends. In the past, when he’d seen the tangles that men and women got into, he’d blithely thought of these as problems he would never have to sort out. But now, here with these girls, it seemed inevitable that he’d fall on one of them and it would be taken as flirting.

They experienced the Earthquake Floor, the Funny Stairs, and Human Roulette, which sent them flying from a central hub to lie sprawled and dizzy along the edge of the wheel, rumpled and missing their hats. The slaves stayed on the sidelines for all these games; it wouldn’t do for slaves to get physically mixed up with a bunch of free girls. Henry felt annoyed on behalf of the slaves, who deserved to have a good time as much as these girls did. He found his hat and staggered out of the wheel, helping Miss Flannery to her feet. He had done his best to keep his hands off of her, but feared he may have touched her breast in passing. He frowned at the memory, the lace of her blouse under his fingertips, and Louis laughed at him.

“Why so serious, Henry? Lighten up, my friend!”

Henry blushed at being called out in this way, which made Louis laugh all the harder, and the others joined in, even the girls. It was good-natured, Henry knew, but still unwelcome, and he struggled to put on a more jovial expression. He dared look at Martin, who now was looking back at him and seeming very sympathetic; he gave Henry the smile he loved so much, and Henry felt grateful for it.

They approached a hot dog stand and Joshua suggested they might eat. The girls agreed to let the boys buy hot dogs for them, and the slaves were dispatched to buy food for everyone. Henry made sure that he and Miss Flannery sat with the others this time, rather than off somewhere by themselves. Martin brought a hot dogs for Henry and Miss Flannery, and he let his fingers brush against Henry’s as he handed him the sausage.

Henry said, “Thank you,” more for the touch than the food.

“Thank you very much,” Miss Flannery said primly, not looking at Martin at all. Henry had always heard that working-class people didn’t know how to behave around slaves, and believed that perhaps he was seeing some of that now. Miss Brody, for instance, was asking Julian questions as if he were a free man, inquiring after his interests in a bright, solicitous manner, as if she were doing him some great favor, and Henry felt embarrassed for her.