Chapter 14

When I was in Boston I would have occasion to meet many of the finer families, including the cherished and sheltered young women. Like all cherished and sheltered young women, they chafed a bit at their bonds, demurely of course. I met one such girl, Rose Whitcomb of the Standish Whitcombs, a fine old family. The master of the house was in the iron industry having many furnaces in Pennsylvania in a city named after a famous Prime Minister.

(Editors Note: Probably Pittsburg, named after William Pitt the Elder, 1^st Earl of Chatham and Prime Minister of England under George III)

I had been invited to a tea one pleasant spring afternoon. Just as it was at the manor in England, a wealthy bachelor drew the attention of mothers, especially mothers of marriageable girls. Mrs. Whitcomb fell into this flock with a girl of seventeen, Rose's older sister Clarice. But it was Rose that captured my heart. She was fifteen, with alabaster skin, green bewitching eyes, a fine nose, and hair the color of the sienna earth. I was entranced from the moment I laid eyes on her. Her sister seemed a pale copy from a second rate artist.

Of course, I hid this as best I could from the mother. I walked Clarice around the lawn, talking of nothing important. I asked if I might pay my respects some day and was extended an invitation to do so. I waited the appropriate time and called on the Whitcombs. Mrs. Whitcomb was only too happy to see me. Clarice was summoned and we spent some time in the garden, under the watchful eye of a Miss Haversham, the wizened spinster governess to the family.

The Whitcombs or more likely, Mrs. Whitcomb, invited me to a small luncheon at their summer place on Cape Cod. There was a morning train that ran down the cape where guests would be picked up and driven to the beach house. An afternoon train would take us all back to Boston in time for dinner. I knew the service well since I owned thirty percent of it.

The summer weather was fine, with high clouds and a soft offshore breeze keeping the air cool enough even in the sun. Several people had brought bathing clothes and they frolicked in the ocean. I have never been much of a swimmer and stayed up on the sun porch looking out at the revelers. Mrs. Whitcomb served lemonade. It was then that my chance occurred. Rose, she of the auburn tresses, happened onto the porch. I rose and greeted her, inviting her to sit for a while. She agreed to sit. We talked and I could see an intensity in her eyes that I had come to recognize. Her visit was not at all chance.

"Rose, I think it is not all chance which brought you here," I said.

She looked around. We were the only people on the porch and though in sight of others and therefore not alone, we were in effect alone. "Would you think me terribly forward if that were so?" she asked.

"That would depend on your ultimate designs," I said smiling.

"Mr. Northam. I have no designs," she said.

"Ah, then you are the only single woman in the Americas who does not," I responded.

She blushed, then asked, "Do you have so many women after you, Mr. Northam?"

"And their mothers."

Rose laughed gaily, "Yes, Mama wants to get Clarice married this year."

"When do you purpose to marry?" I asked her. I could have used the ring but this game was fun and I proposed to play by her rules, at least for now.

"Are you proposing?"

"That would not yet be proper, Miss Whitcomb. But perhaps I could see you in the city?"

"Please, Sir. Drop by any time," she smiled.

"And be diverted to Clarice," I said.

"Oh, yes. Mama would certainly do that," she agreed.

"I hope I am again not too forward, but perhaps you could call on me," I said.

"I can't see how..." She paused and thought weighing the improprieties and her desires. Her desires won out. "Perhaps I could slip away some time," she said quietly.

"I would like that," I said.

Mrs. Whitcomb swept onto the porch from the house. "Oh Rose, you must not bother Mr. Northam."

"No bother, Mrs. Whitcomb. Rose was just asking my opinion of marriage. I was telling her of my own desire to find the right life partner. So difficult it can be. Rose was telling me of Clarice's fine singing voice." I knew of Clarice's predilection to burst into song, with her mother conveniently at the piano, whenever suitors were abroad.

"Oh yes, Mr. Northam. Next time you are visiting you should hear her sing. She has a wonderful voice." She smiled at Rose, happy that her daughter seemed to be furthering the family interests and went in.

"Mr. Northam, you are wicked, teasing Mama about Clarice's singing," she said.

"No, my dear, simply experienced. When you have had the same thing happen many times, you learn what to say."

"Have you ever been married, Mr. Northam, with all your experience?" she asked.

"No. I was in love once, but she was older than I and refused me," I said.

"Oh, and what happened to her?" Rose asked.

"She passed on. It was years ago," I said.

"I am so sorry. I feel a fool now," Rose said.

"Not so, my dear. I never regret giving or receiving love. What is to regret?" I asked looking quite intensely at her. She had no chance to answer.

Clarice rushed out onto the porch, obviously sent by Mama. "Rose, Mama wants you."

Rose gave her sister a very un-sisterly look, except so many sisters give each other such looks, and went in. The rest of the afternoon was spent locked in conversation with Clarice. I left on the first afternoon train back to Boston.

It was but two days later that Rose came to my house. The butler let her in and after calling me, discreetly vanished. I led her to the parlor and we sat. "I am so glad you have come, Rose."