Moonlight Wishes In Time (24 page)

“I am assured it is quail, Miss Crockwell,” William said soberly as he scanned Mattie’s face.

“Quail?” she asked on a mournful note as she watched Thomas accepting some slices on his plate
. Those adorable little birds that scurried around with the jaunty feathers perched above their heads?

“Do you have some objection to eating duck, Miss Crockwell?” Thomas asked
. “Or quail?”

“Do you not eat poultry in America, Mattie?” Sylvie asked as she too accepted a serving of quail.

“I…I…” She didn’t know how to respond, and wished she hadn’t made a fuss about the food but simply waved the serving off in an inconspicuous way.

“Perhaps Miss Crockwell simply does not wish to eat the waterfowl which she has just admired,” William stated flatly
. He gestured to another footman, who hurried over. “Please bring Miss Crockwell another course.”

“Just fruit and some cheese, please?” Mattie said
. The footman nodded and moved away toward the table.

“Is that all you are going to eat, Mattie?” Sylvie asked with a concerned face
.

Mattie nodded
.

“Some venison
, perhaps? Would that be more to your liking?” Sylvie asked.

“Oh, no
. No, thank you,” Mattie said with a vehement shake of her head. The menu was only getting worse. Deer? Gosh, no!

“Sylvie, we must allow Miss Crockwell to eat as she sees fit,” William said
. He leaned back and looked toward the lake as he chewed thoughtfully on a piece of bread. Mattie noted he hadn’t taken any other food.

“Yes, of course, William,” Sylvie said instantly with a contrite smile
. “Forgive me, Mattie.”

“No problem
. I just don’t eat…” She saw Thomas’ odd look and thought better of that line of thought. “I just… I’m not very hungry,” she finished briefly. 

The footman arrived with a tray of fruit including grapes, peaches, plums and various cheeses
, which looked nothing like what Mattie had seen in a grocery store before. She took a sampling of several slices of cheese and a few pieces of fruit. She was actually starving, but now that she’d said she wasn’t hungry, she couldn’t very well load up her plate.

William also took cheese and some fruit, she noticed
. Why wasn’t he eating? She hoped it wasn’t some sort of sympathetic courtesy to a guest. That seemed a bit exaggerated, even for an era so defined by good manners as the Georgian period.

As she chewed on the rather delicious white cheese, she imagined a scene in which William jumped up, dramatically thrust out his arm in a motion of rejection and said
, “I too shall not eat duck, quail or venison while my guest does not.”

She grinned and looked up to see William watching her.

“The food is to your liking, Miss Crockwell?”

“Yes,
it is. The cheese is wonderful.” She arched an eyebrow. “I notice you are not eating very much yourself.” If he was going to jump up, thrust out his hand, and announce he could not eat what Mattie could not, this was his chance. Her grin broadened.

“Yes, William, I also observed that you are eating very little,” Sylvie chimed in
. “Mrs. White has gone to great lengths to prepare a wonderful picnic for us. She will not thank us for bringing most of it back. Are you well?”

“Quite well, Sylvie, thank you
. I do hope Mrs. White forgives us.” William turned toward Mattie. “You seem amused, Miss Crockwell. May I ask why?”

Mattie attempted to school her expression into a more serious one.

“Umm. Did I? I don’t know why,” Mattie demurred. “Maybe I’m so happy because the cheese is so delicious.”

“Yes, I agree, it is,” William responded, with a skeptical expression
. Mattie could see he wasn’t convinced by her answer, but he let it go. For now.

The conversation turned to other matters involving nearby neighbors, and Mattie took the opportunity to stuff as much food as she could into her mouth from the tray the footman had kindly left in front of her
. She nonchalantly snagged a couple of pieces of bread and munched on those while she listened to the ongoing conversation.

“But we are being rude to Mattie
, who does not know of whom we speak,” Sylvie said as she dabbed a linen napkin delicately in the general area of her mouth. “Shall we resume our walk?” she said brightly.

Sylvie made as if to rise, but Thomas jumped to his feet and offered his hand
. She placed her hand in his with some reluctance, and pulled it away as soon as she’d risen.

William helped Mattie rise, thankfully, because she wasn’t quite sure she could disentangle her legs from her long skirt without squatting unbecomingly or falling flat on her face
.

He seemed to hold her hand longer than he needed to
. Mattie looked at their joined hands and raised her eyes to his face. She caught her breath at his searching look. Startled, she tugged at her hand, but not truly because she wanted to be free of him.

“Forgive me,” he said as he released her hand with a quick bow.

Mattie instantly regretted her kneejerk reaction. Of course, she would have loved to stroll about with her hand in his.
Yes, yes, yes!

Sylvie and Thomas walked ahead toward the lake
, an awkwardly unnatural distance between them, which spoke volumes. William and Mattie followed.

“Miss Crockwell,” William began
, “now that you are no longer the center of unwanted attention, would it be possible for me to inquire about your eating habits?” He paused to look at her, and Mattie stilled as well.

“My eating habits
…” Mattie drew the words out as she wondered what to say. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sylvie pause to turn around to look at them. She seemed to be waiting, so Mattie moved on. William walked beside her.

“Yes, I have noticed ever since you
…ah…arrived, that you do not eat meat. At least, not that I have seen.”

Mattie, her eyes on her feet as she walked, peeped up at William fr
om under her bonnet with a half-smile. She shook her head.

“Nope, I don’t,” she stated, her vernacular reverting to the more modern American standard
. “I’m a vegetarian.”

Sylvie resumed walking, with Thomas at her side.

“A vegetarian? What, pray tell, is a vegetarian?” William asked with a puzzled frown.

“Someone who doesn’t eat meat,” she said
. “Where I come from, there are lots of different kinds of vegetarians—some who eat eggs, vegetables and fruit, but no dairy foods. Some who eat dairy, vegetables and fruit, but no eggs. Or some who eat both eggs and dairy as well as vegetables and fruit. That would be me,” she said.

“Vegetarian,” he repeated slowly
. “And what would be the purpose of this particular diet?”

Mattie couldn’t help but chuckle
. “Well, I just love the little animals,” she said. “Big ones too. And I don’t want to eat them.”

William paused to look at her with curiosity
. “But can man—or woman—subsist on nothing but vegetables?” He clasped his hands behind his back. “It would seem a very unhealthy way to live.”

Mattie smiled
. “Not really. And it’s not
just
vegetables, as you well know. I eat cheese and bread, and they have plenty of protein.”

“Protein
? Is this another food?” William asked.

Mattie sighed inwardly
. She couldn’t possibly explain almost two hundred years of nutritional science and discovery.

“Something we all need to eat to survive
. There is protein in meat, poultry, fish, dairy, beans and some vegetables.”

“Interesting,” William said
. “So you derive your…
protein
…from dairy, beans and some vegetables.”

“Yes.”

“I am not sure what Mrs. White will do with you, Miss Crockwell,” William said with a smile. “Nor how we will hide the fact that you do not eat like the rest of us.”

“We could say I have allergies,” Mattie said with a laugh.

“Allergies?” William said with a frown. “And what, pray tell, are allergies?”

“Oh, William,” Mattie sighed
. “I’m out of my depth here. But I’ll try to explain.”

For the next half
-hour, she explained what little she knew of food allergies, and answered his questions as best she could. And he had a lot of questions. When they had circled the lake, they joined Sylvie and Thomas by the carriage, Sylvie looking more peeved than ever with Thomas, who stood rigid, his hands locked behind his back, his face the epitome of frustration.

Mattie suspected they’d had another misunderstanding
, or a continuation of the original.

“Please accept my gratitude for allowing me to accompany you on your outing today,” Thomas said to the group in general with a bow
. “Miss Crockwell, Sylvie, William,” he said with a nod of his head.

“Bye—” Mattie was starting to say
, but Thomas had hopped on his horse and spurred it away, seemingly in one movement.

Sylvie’s lower lip quivered for a moment, but she bit it, straightened her shoulders, favored William and Mattie with a forced smile and turned toward the carriage.

William, watching his friend’s departure with a frown between his eyes, sprung forward to hand his sister up without a word.

Mattie grabbed her skirts, took his hand, and climbed into the carriage
. She slid into the seat next to Sylvie and reached for Sylvie’s hand. Sylvie attempted a gracious smile, which fell short, but she clung to Mattie’s hand. William took the seat across from them, averting his eyes from Sylvie’s unhappiness.

They had just returned to the house when Mr.
Carver arrived punctually at two o’clock. Sylvie pled a headache and retreated to her room.

Mattie tried to sneak up the stairs but John, the footman, advised her that Mrs. Sinclair desired her presence in the drawing room
, as well as that of Mr. Sinclair.

As John moved away to open the drawing room door, Mattie threw William a pleading look, and he gave her a silent nod of encouragement.

“There you are, Miss Crockwell,” Mrs. Sinclair said upon seeing them enter. “And William. I trust your outing was invigorating. Where is Sylvie?” She looked beyond them to the door.

“She feels unwell, Mother
. Carver, how do you do?” William said.

Stephen
Carver jumped up from his seat across from Mrs. Sinclair.

“I am well, thank you, Sinclair
.” He bowed in Mattie’s direction. “And how did you find the countryside, Miss Crockwell? Mrs. Sinclair tells me that you went out for a ride this morning.”

“It was great—wonderful, Mr.
Carver. Thank you.”

Mattie cringed
. She just didn’t think she could fool this man for some reason. She was tempted to just confess all and be done with the anticipation of discovery.

“At the risk of boring Mrs. Sinclair and Mr. Sinclair, I had hoped to speak to you more of home
—America,” he said with a winsome smile in their direction. “Since we are countrymen.”

Mrs. Sinclair’s mouth tightened
. William adopted the same forbidding look.

“I understand that you are eager to r
eminisce about your common heritage, Mr. Carver, but perhaps Miss Crockwell might wish to refresh herself with a cup of tea after her outing this morning,” Mrs. Sinclair said. “Will you ring for tea, William?”

Mattie wondered if Mrs. Sinclair
had seen the panic in Mattie’s eyes. Although Mrs. Sinclair wanted her to be gone, she clearly didn’t want Mattie’s secret discovered either, and perhaps she shared Mattie’s concerns regarding Stephen Carver.

“Certainly, Mrs. Sinclair,” Stephen said
. “How inconsiderate I am. I should like some tea as well. I drink coffee when I am at home, but I do so enjoy English tea when I am here. Do you drink coffee at home, Miss Crockwell, or do you prefer tea?”

After pulling the servant’s bell, William moved over to the fireplace and leaned one arm on the mantle
. At Stephen’s question, he coughed slightly.

“Miss Crockwell informed me that she also drinks tea in America, did you not, Miss Crockwell?” William said.

Mattie looked up at him and nodded. Of course, they hadn’t had such a conversation because she actually did like coffee, but no doubt Stephen would want to compare coffees.

Just then, the door opened, and
John announced a Mrs. Covington and Miss Louisa Covington.

Mrs. Covington, a slender woman
of about Mrs. Sinclair’s age, sailed in. Louisa followed more sedately. Mrs. Sinclair rose to greet them, as did Stephen. Unable to remember what folks did during calls in her books, Mattie stood as well.

“Sally
, my dear,” Mrs. Sinclair said as she leaned forward to kiss Mrs. Covington and Louisa on the cheek. “How kind of you to call. Please sit here,” she said, indicating the sofa.