Nisa Hinojosa Yiğit (a_shadow_detail) wrote in athensrising, @ 2008-10-21 23:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | allaster holt, daisy hubbard |
First Date: Daisy and Allaster
Who: Daisy Hubbard & Allaster Holt
What: A first call
Where: Daisy's home, Public Garden
When: Saturday, around two
Warnings: None.
Summary: Allaster makes a formal call on Daisy
Allaster checked his necktie and waistcoat one last time before mounting the steps to Daisy Hubbard's house. He'd been startled to receive an invitation from Mr. Hubbard to call on his daughter; he couldn't imagine that he'd done a satisfactory enough job of being an upstanding young gentleman for any father to want him to call on their daughter. But here he was, letter tucked in his jacket pocket.
He raised the knocker and waited patiently for a servant to answer. Despite the fact that there was no good way to turn down Mr. Hubbard's invitation Allaster had wracked his brain to find some way to do just that. When nothing satisfactory was forthcoming he'd accepted his fate and sent word that he would call. On further consideration he'd decided that calling on Daisy would do well for his image and placate his mother, who was continually nattering on about a wife.
A servant answered the door and took his hat and gloves and showed him to the parlor where he stood, staring at the furnishings, wishing fervently for a smoke.
Daisy fluttered around her room, dozens of discarded dresses scattered on her bed and vanity. She had been dressing for this afternoon call for the last two hours. Mlle. Livry was furious when Daisy refused to attend her afternoon practice, and scoffed at Daisy's offered excuse. "Mlle Hubbard shall never dance truly well if she does not practice." Daisy had laughed at her fussy teacher, and then sent the cook out to buy more cucumbers for sandwiches for tea. "I cannot hope to entertain unless we are properly supplied with food," she had insisted, stamping her foot in impatience.
The clock chimed the hour and Daisy squeaked in horror. Terrified that she caused her potential suitor to wait, Daisy changed her clothing once more and then descended the front stairs. She walked into the parlor and her stomach churned with excitement at the sight of her suitor. I approve of his clothing choice. Daisy's maid Betsey walked into the parlor after her mistress and seated herself in the corner. Daisy smiled at the young man, feeling delightfully adult and mature.
Allaster turned as he heard Daisy enter the parlor and smiled his best suitor smile: charming, but not too forthright, shy but not weak.
"Miss Hubbard," he said, modulating his voice so it was pleasant and polite. "It is such a pleasure to have been invited to call on you. And may I..." He grinned sheepishly as he drew a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. "It is a poor token, but I have heard that you've a fondness for flowers and hoped to bring you some small measure of pleasure with these."
Daisy was taken aback when her suitor presents her with a bouquet of flowers. They were hot house flowers, elegantly arranged and Daisy inhaled when she noticed that they matched her outfit. His smile was perfect in Daisy's estimation, the correct way to smile at a proper young lady. If anything, Daisy might hope that Mr. Holt was a bit more rakish, but his first appearance was pleasing. "Thank you, Mr. Holt," she replied, trying to remember to modulate her voice. She indicated the sofa, and seated herself, feeling flushed and pleased with her own accomplishment. "Please sit." She sniffed at the flowers, her face glowing with pleasure.
Allaster watched Daisy carefully as she took the flowers and was pleased to see her cheeks pink with delight. It was an altogether good look on her Allaster thought as his eyes quickly and discreetly swept downward, taking in the expensive quality of the dress and the charmingly rounded form within it as she turned to take her seat on the sofa.
He remembered his manners, keeping his limbs straight and close to his body until his bottom hit the cushion. So used to sprawling, he was, that his spine had already begun to melt into a relaxed curve, knees falling open as an elbow reached for the back of the sofa. He caught himself quickly enough and tried to mask the whole move by picking off an imaginary piece of lint on his pants and then stopped that, too, realizing he was making a completely unlovely picture.
Smiling more brightly to cover his discomfiture he folded his hands primly in his lap.
"I believe I've caught sight of you at the theatre, Miss Hubbard. Are you an avid theatregoer?"
Oh, good God, Allaster. Find your balls, he thought dismally.
Daisy felt her suitor's eyes on her and she knew that her face was flushed. She smiled, delighted at her reaction to this handsome young man's attention. Perhaps I will fall in love with him yet. Daisy realized that she did in fact enjoy the attention of a gentleman. This thought pleased her and she vowed to write about her feeling in her journal. If he tries, I will let him hold my arm.
Her thoughts were interrupted by her suitor's fidgeting and Daisy frowned at his movements. It did not look well for her suitor to appear bored or distracted in her presence. She watched his movements, having decided that he must make this small rudeness up to her somehow. His smile pleased her, though and she smiled back at him, though not as brightly as before.
She nodded at his question. "I do enjoy the theater, Mr. Holt." She practiced letting her eyelashes flutter, trying to glance up at him. She felt rather silly, but it was how women in books looked at their suitors and Daisy meant to practice until she had it right.
Daisy fluttered her eyelashes and then tried to look up at him. The overall effect made her look like she had something in her eye which she was desperate to get out and Allaster had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing.
"That is most excellent," he said when he trusted his voice. "Did you you perhaps see the production of Carmen at the Boston Theatre a few months past?" He leaned in, just a little, and shared a slightly conspiratorial smile. "I must admit to finding the verismo rather... stimulating."
Daisy frowned as her suitor looked to be choking on something. Men never choked in books, never became red in the face. In books and in the theater suitors were elegant and sophisticated and never turned purple or sounded like they had frogs in their throats. Daisy decided that she might have been too generous in her esteem of her suitor.
She shook her head at his question and then sat forward, eager to hear his description of the opera. "My father was abroad and my mother refused to accompany me." She looked over her shoulder, as if worried that someone might overhear her. "I had thought to attend on my own but my teacher stopped me." She smiled, looking rather determined and not at all embarrassed or ashamed by her behavior. "I should love to go to the next production, though," she continued, abandoning any pretext of subtly. "Especially if you would accompany me."
Allaster arched a laconic eyebrow at Daisy's admission that she'd nearly attended the opera on her own. Of the few ladies he'd courted none would ever have admitted to such outrageous and unladylike behavior. He knew that decorum demanded he be shocked but he was frankly impressed. One of the things he hated most about calling on a lady was the boring, tedious, endlessly polite conversation.
"Miss Hubbard," he said, sounding slightly scandalized. "I must admit to being startled at your intention to attend the theatre alone. However," he continued, gaze flicking over her shoulder briefly before leaning in, one side of his mouth curling up. "I must also admit to being rather impressed. It's not really the fashion, but I appreciate a lady who is willing to press the bounds of propriety."
He pulled away with a self-deprecating grin.
"Perhaps that is not something I should admit so freely. But I should be honored to escort you to the theatre or... or perhaps you are interested in art as well?"
Daisy experimented again with her eyelashes, trying to appear forward and bold yet demure. She thought that she might have accomplished her goal and Daisy felt a swell of pride. She might not have older brothers or sisters to guide her, but she was determined to have a grand time this fall and winter in Boston. Young Mr. Holt seemed to be a very good escort for any social occasion. Daisy decided that she would have an invitation by the conclusion of their appointment.
She smiled at his forced surprise, certain that he approved of her bold intentions. "Mr. Holt," she replied. "You do not strike me as easily startled. Surely, nothing I could do would scandalize you." She tried to bat her eyelashes again. She tried not to be too proud that she might have impressed her suitor, but she felt a certain sense of maturity. "I do not like being told what I can and cannot do," Daisy admitted. "And I would be happy to accompany you to any artistic performance," she declared forcefully.
Allaster chuckled politely at Daisy's ostentatiousness. And at the batting lashes. "I am not all that worldly wise, Miss Hubbard. I take my studies seriously, keep abreast of the arts, dabble a little in politics. Altogether pedestrian, I'm afraid." But as he said he let a little mischievousness creep into his voice.
"And if you're amenable to it I am showing a few pieces of art at the upcoming Boston Art Club exhibition. If you do not already have someone to accompany you, it would be my pleasure. I am sure you would be a most charming companion."
Daisy nodded, trying to appear serious and thoughtful. She kept being both intrigued and impressed by her suitor, and despite his earlier coughing fit and the fact that he had not tried to take her hand, Daisy believed that he might make a suitable husband. Mr. Holt was from New York and Christmas in the city as an engagement trip would be exciting. She sighed at his boring description of his life. "That is very disappointing, Mr. Holt." She had hoped that a young suitor would be more interesting than her father. But his voice changed and Daisy leaned forward, hoping for something surprising.
She nodded at his offer, nearly clapping her hands with delight. "Mr. Holt, I should be delighted," she gasped. "I did not know that you were an artist." Daisy decided that she might be more interested in Mr. Holt than in the artistic exhibition. She could never marry an artist, unless he was a wealthy artist, but an artistic suitor could be very pleasing.
Allaster watched Daisy lean in to him, figured he had her hooked, and wondered how much line to let out. She was clearly more interested in him being somewhat of a rebel than a perfect gentleman, and, as ladies went, she could, with her own rebellious streak, turn out to be somewhat interesting. He decided he would string this one along as far as he could.
He put a hand to his chest, drew his brows together, and affected his best wounded look.
"Miss Hubbard, it is exceedingly difficult to be a perfect gentleman. I don't wish to do you any offense yet I sense that you may fear me dull." He put his hand down on the sofa, very near to Daisy's skirts, and dropped his gaze, doing his utmost to project an air of vulnerability. "One wonders how much one might reveal in order to remain interesting yet remain a gentleman. For," he glanced up at her face, a shy smile teasing the corners of his mouth. "We are but human and all have our small vices, do we not?"
Daisy felt his eyes on her and her face flushed. She thought that she looked best with a slight hint of color and she was certain that Mr. Holt must see that. Daisy's father always told her how beautiful she was, and Daisy expected any suitor to lavish her with similar praise. Daisy knew that in order to be a truly successful woman, she needed to have a string of suitors following her. For now, however, just one would have to suffice, but he would have to be the right type of suitor.
Mr. Holt pretended to look shocked and Daisy had to smile. She was certain that she did not surprise him.
Daisy felt her breath stop in her throat. For a moment she thought he might touch her knee. She could not decide if she should swoon or blush or shriek in pretend horror. She wondered if she should attempt all three. Her heart fell when he rested his hand on the sofa and she shook her head at his teasing. "I assure you, Mr. Holt. I would not tax you overmuch for my pleasure." Daisy felt quite confident that her conversation is improving. "I should like to hear of your particular vices," she suggested, her heart raced at her own boldness.
"Now Miss Hubbard," Allaster said, smile turning slightly rakish. "Surely you know there are things in which men indulge that shouldn't be discussed with a lady. However, I'm sure I can find such stories as would make your ears burn without scandalizing you too greatly."
He stood and offered her his hand.
"If you would permit me, it is a beautiful day outside, matched only by your beauty, I would have everyone be green with envy over my luck to have you on my arm as we walk the Garden. And then we can discuss the Boston Art Club exhibit and perhaps I can tell you some... entertaining stories.
Daisy decided that she might swoon yet, especially if Mr. Holt would continue to smile at her. She could think of no other way of encouraging his attentions. She smiled and looked up expectantly at his words. "I am often told that such things are not for my ears." She sighed forlornly. "And I am never allowed to stay when the men talk with Papa." Her faced scrunched up as she thought of the unfairness of it all.
But Mr. Holt offered his hand and Daisy eagerly took it. She stood, her eyes closed as she thought about holding her suitor's hand. His hand was appealingly masculine and Daisy decided that her husband must always hold her hand.
"I shall ring for my shawl and hat," Daisy replied. She reached out and pulled the bell to call for the maid. Daisy decided to wear her new hat. It matched her dress perfectly and she imagined that someone as artistic as Mr. Holt would appreciate fashion. "Mr. Holt, I will go for a walk with you. I hope you might have some amusing stories."
The maid brought Allaster's hat and gloves at the same time she brought Daisy's hat and shawl. He set his things aside in favor of reaching for Daisy's shawl.
"Please allow me," he said, moving up behind her, leaving a barely proper amount of space between them, and settled the shawl around her shoulders. He let his hands rest against her arms a little longer than necessary, having seen how she reacted to taking his hand.
"May I say," he said softly, voice pitched low. "That your sense of fashion is exquisite. I am sure my mother would enjoy taking you to all the fashionable boutiques in New York."
He stepped away then and busied himself with pulling on his gloves and settling his hat on his before offering his arm.
"Shall we go then, Miss Hubbard?"
Daisy smiled at the maid, and barely contained her pleased gasp when Mr. Holt took her shawl. This was more like the suitors in the plays and books she read. Daisy tried not to hold her breath as Mr. Holt draped her shawl around her. Her eyes closed as she felt him behind her, the warmth of his breath on her neck and the heat of his hands on her arms. It was delicious to feel so dangerously adult. She smiled, feeling remarkably pleased with herself when his hands lingered longer than necessary on her arms. Daisy felt like a heroine in a novel, and she forced herself not to fidget. Heroines never fidgeted.
She looked up at him through her eye lashes, her lips slightly parted. For a moment she dreamed that he might be bold enough to kiss her, but his words were even more exciting. Daisy nodded, trying not to appear unladylike in her excitement. "I should like to meet your mother," she murmured, her stomach swooning in delight. "I thank you for your compliment, Mr. Holt."
He moved away and Daisy tried not to make an noise of disappointment. They each placed their hats upon their heads and Daisy looked over at him. He cut a very dashing figure with his hat on and Daisy was more convinced that he would make an excellent suitor. "Of course, Mr. Holt," she replied, and reached out for his arm. "Now, I want to hear about your artistic endeavors."
"On the subject of art, Miss Hubbard, I could speak for hours," he said as they left the house. "For me it is not a hobby; it is my life, my soul, my very beating heart. It is not something I do because I enjoy it, but because I must or die."
He set an easy pace as they walked along the sidewalk and hoped fervently that he wouldn't see another member of the Brotherhood. The rest of Boston could look their fill, but his friends would undoubtedly say the wrong thing and shatter the perfect image he was creating for Daisy.
"Not all men are lucky to have something that ignites their soul so, but now that I know it I cannot settle for anything less, in any aspect of my life." He looked down at Daisy, keeping his face serious and ardent. "I shall know the woman I am to marry by the way she is indistinguishable in my heart from my art. They will both consume me completely."
"Well, Mr. Holt," she began. "I am delighted to hear anything you might say about art." She looked eagerly up at him, her interest more than a little entranced. Though she knew Mr. Holt was a fashionable young man, she did not know that he was such an artistic personality. She nodded at his words and leaned a little more on his arm. "Mr. Holt, what is your artistic medium?" She was eager to share her own passion for dance. "I dance," she murmured, her eyes lifted to his face, hoping to see some admiration and perhaps shock.
Daisy hoped that they would meet some of her acquaintances or school friends during their walk. She did not dare dream that they might run into Sophia Elliot. It would be fantastic to be seen with such an elegant young man holding her arm. Daisy could easy get lost in a day-dream of winter in New York City and all of the fashionable parties they would attend as a beautiful, fashionable couple.
She nodded at his vision and his determination. She found his company invigorating and could easily understand his desire. It must be advantageous for a husband to be passionate. At his mention of a wife, Daisy felt her heart stop. He must be in love with me. It was so flattering to think that Mr. Holt might be enamored with her so quickly. "I think you have good sense, Mr. Holt."
Allaster smiled brightly when she said he had good sense.
"And you are clearly very wise for your years, Miss Hubbard. And my preferred medium is oil, but I often enjoy getting my fingers dirty with a bit of charcoal. It is a temperamental medium, but perhaps I myself can be somewhat temperamental, and the texture and detail one can draw forth from shadow can be extremely satisfying."
He tilted his head closer to hers. "But please, I would hear more about you. A dancer you say? I must admit to only having been to the ballet a few times. Perhaps you would let me escort you there some time so you might educate me."
Daisy interpreted his smile as confirmation of his deep feelings for her. I hope not to break his heart. I should not like to see him weep. The thought caused her to frown, and Daisy wondered if she did in fact need a great number of suitors. Would it not be better to have only a few who were simply mad for me? The thought seemed to be a good one and Daisy was impressed by her own maturity.
Daisy was hugely pleased by his praise and she smiled up at him. "My father has always said I am his cleverest child." Daisy laughed and quickly explained. "I am his only child, though." She listened with interest as he spoke about his artistic endeavors. "I should like to learn how to draw. Will you teach me?" Daisy nearly flushed as she thought of his larger, elegant hand guiding hers. What a brilliant idea. I shall surely record this in my journal. "I cannot imagine you as temperamental, Mr. Holt," she replied demurely.
His mouth was near her ear and Daisy closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the intimacy. It delighted her that Mr. Holt wanted to hear more. Poor man. It is so obvious. "I have been dancing since I was a child," she replied. "I shall take you to the next ballet," she declared, boldly. "Perhaps Mlle Livey should accompany us." Daisy could hope for nothing more, and she decided that it was proper for Mr. Holt to accompany her to the ballet with a chaperone. If they were courting then it would be inappropriate to attend the ballet alone. And Daisy meant for Mr. Holt to court her.
Allaster made sure to keep his head bent toward Daisy, humming and smiling in all the appropriate places.
She's a dear enough girl, he thought. Pretty, well-formed, and naïve enough to be bold.
Allaster rather looked forward to what new audaciousness would slip past her lips. He would have to be careful not to play her too roughly, but he thought he might be more bold than would usually be.
"It would be a great pleasure to be educated in the ballet by one so accomplished in the art and I greatly look forward to it. As for teaching you something of art..." He reached up and trailed a gloved finger over hers where they wrapped around his arm. "You have fine hands for it. Your fingers are long and graceful, but I would not see them dirty with charcoal. Perhaps pencil drawing. We could spend many pleasant afternoons in the Garden together as I show you."
Daisy flushed, pleased with both herself and with Allaster for this delightful interlude. She believed that she should be praised for her own skills at flirting and she hoped that Allaster appreciated her abilities at conversation. She certainly found his voice and manners pleasant. She felt her breath move faster as she imagined spending more time with Mr. Holt. So charming and yet passionate. Such an admirable suitor.
Daisy smiled at his praise, though it was only what she felt she deserved. "I would indeed be willing to instruct you, Mr. Holt." Daisy felt her face flush more, and she knew that she should chose her words carefully. There was boldness and then there was foolishness. But Daisy smiled more, knowing that she would not be careful. Mr. Holt seemed to understand her and he reached out to touch her hand. Her breath came faster and she looked up at him through her eyelashes. "I should not like my hands to be dirty," she agreed. "But I should enjoy your instruction."
Allaster smothered an insane urge to unwrap her hand from his arm and press a kiss to her palm. He was certain Daisy would swoon from such attention. He was also sure she would enjoy it greatly, but it would be beyond foolishness to do so.
Daisy, he was certain, wasn't recklessly pushing the edge of decorum with her words, merely not understanding the potential double meaning. He smiled indulgently.
"I would very much enjoy instructing you, Miss Hubbard," Allaster said, only barely restraining his amusement. "I sense that you would be a most eager and talented student."
With a sigh Allaster turned them down the lane that would lead them to the pond. He was finding this line of conversation entertaining in the extreme but it was also extremely imprudent. He regretfully turned their conversation to something duller.
"Tell me Miss Hubbard, have you heard the rumor that John Saville intends to court Miss Sophia Elliott?"
It was very nearly a misstep, for Allaster was almost not able to contain his laughter at the thought of poor, sweet John courting his indomitable cousin, Sophy Elliott.
For a moment, Daisy was sure he would kiss her. She had never been kissed before and she wondered if she would let him. It would be highly imprudent to let someone like Mr. Holt kiss her, but Daisy also was fascinated by the idea of being kissed. I should let him kiss me for a moment, she decided. But only for a moment. Any longer would be indecorous.
His smile seemed destroy her fantasy and Daisy's brow furrowed momentarily. She tried to smooth it, not wanting to appear ugly to Mr. Holt. Daisy felt a keen sense of disappointment. She had not realized how eagerly she had been anticipating her first kiss. For a moment Daisy almost stomped her foot in irritation, almost demanded that Mr. Holt kiss her, but she realized that anyone could see. I do not care! she thought with vehemence.
Mr. Holt's words cheered her again and she nodded. "Mr. Holt, I would be a dutiful student," she vowed.
At his next phrase, Daisy had to laugh. "Mr. Holt, they are cousins!" Daisy laughed again, amused that such an elegant and fashionable man would be ignorant of such things. "You are very amusing."
Allaster grinned as Daisy laughed.
"It was worth revealing my utter disinterest and ignorance of Boston relations to hear you laugh, Miss Hubbard. It is most musical and pleasing.
"Let me then move on to a subject I know well. Do you read poetry, Miss Hubbard? I must admit to being rather mad for it. Here, let me quote you a bit."
Allaster stopped their progress under the spreading branches of a purple beech and gently spun Daisy to face him.
"Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,
And each doth good turns now unto the other,
When that mine eye is famished for a look,
Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother;
With my love's picture then my eye doth feast,
And to the painted banquet bids my heart:
Another time mine eye is my heart's guest,
And in his thoughts of love doth share a part.
So either by thy picture or my love,
Thy self away, art present still with me,
For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,
And I am still with them, and they with thee.
Or if they sleep, thy picture in my sight
Awakes my heart, to heart's and eye's delight."
His eyes shone when he finished and he reached out and took her hand. "What did you think?" he asked breathlessly.
Daisy appreciated Allaster's smile and she reminded herself to practice her own smile in the mirror tonight. She already practiced laughing in the mirror, making sure that her nose did not look too short and that her forehead crinkled exactly right. She flushed slightly as his praise of her and she tried to laugh in a charming manner. "You are too kind, Mr. Holt," she murmured, glancing up at him. Even if Mr. Holt did not court her, this afternoon had been useful to practice her demure looks.
She nodded her head, though she actually knew very little about poetry. She preferred to ready love sonnets and romance novels, and not the deeply philosophical things he was probably referring to. "I should like to hear about your passion," she confided. She gave him her full attention but her heart soared when he turned her to face him. He is quite attractive. Her breath came out in a short gasp and she laughed lightly, feeling pleased with her own accomplishment. She listened in rapt attention as Mr. Holt's voice raised and lowered, creating a musical interlude for her ears to delight in.
She was breathless when he finished, her hands clasped together. She hoped to draw attention to her figure, hoped that Mr. Holt would appreciate the work of her dressmaker and maid. Her plan seemed to work and he took her hand. She remembered at the last moment to look down, to appear overwhelmed and flustered. Truthfully, Daisy was slightly overwhelmed. She had never had a suitor recite such a lovely sonnet to her. It was like something in one of the romance novels and Daisy risked a glance up at him through her eyelashes. "Oh, Mr. Holt, it was lovely," she murmured, her voice entranced. "Truly it was stirring."
Allaster lowered his gaze shyly, smiling.
"You've no idea how pleased I am that you enjoyed it. Not everyone is a fan of Shakespeare," he said, though he would have eaten his hat if Daisy hadn't liked it.
He squeezed her hand, very gently, and replaced it on his arm. He'd thought about giving it a quick kiss, but they were unchaperoned and in public. He wasn't that keen on being married.
"Tell me Miss Hubbard, what else do you do for entertainment?"
Daisy was pleased that she had touched him so deeply. "Truly Mr. Holt, I do not understand how any could not love such passionate sentiments." She shook her head, wondering if Mr. Holt had ever spoke like that to any other women.
He squeezed her hand and Daisy flushed, pleased at his appreciation of her. In Daisy's opinion, she deserved all praise and acclaim and she smiled at him. Her hand rested on his arm and she glanced up at him. "I travel often with Papa. And Mother insists that I perform charity works." She wrinkled her nose. "Boston can be dreadfully dull. Do you not think so, Mr. Holt?"
Allaster laughed softly.
"Being a native of New York City I must confess that, yes, Boston can seem a tad dull. But it is not with out its charms," he said smiling at her significantly.
"However my father has a great deal of connections in New York that can make life even more interesting than usual. I was just the other day regaling my friend, Mr. Bowdoin, who is a composer, with the story of how I was treated to a backstage visit with international opera stars. It was quite exciting.
"But charity work is not unimportant; my mother does a great deal. Most will not admit, but it is women that keep society civil. I fear that if we men were left to our own devices... well, I shudder to think."
Daisy frowned at Mr. Holt's laughter, thinking he was laughing at her. But he agreed with her sentiments and Daisy felt that his agreement surely added to his charms. Many times her mother had announced that a permissive husband was well worth his weight in gold. Daisy felt a stirring of pride in her suitor.
She nodded at his words, eager to hear more about his life in New York. When he looked at her, Daisy flushed with pleasure. If Mr. Holt would continue to praise her and comment on her charms, then Daisy was well on her way to considering him the most elegant and pleasing of young men. She listened eagerly to his description of his father's connection. Truthfully, she would rather hear about his mother and how she might enjoy Daisy's pleasing company, but she continued to smile. "It sounds lovely, Mr. Holt," she murmured. "I love the opera, but Papa does not care for it." She smiled and laughed brightly. "Truthfully, he is always complaining when I ask him to accompany me to a party or the theater or anyplace." She sighed, as if the weight of the world were on her elegantly clad shoulders. "Who did you meet, Mr. Holt?"
Daisy frowned at his praise of charity work. She loathed the visiting and social calls that her mother insisted on. She did not care for his comment on social conditions. She would much rather discuss poetry or the theater. Really, Daisy would much prefer that he continue to flatter her. "Mr. Holt, that seems entirely too mean."
"I can't believe that anyone would complain to accompany you anywhere, Miss Hubbard, but I suppose it's all the better for me. I should be more than happy to accompany you anywhere you should like to go." Allaster thought that might be a bit over the top, but Daisy flushed and preened every time he complimented her so he figured he might as well continue.
"And I don't want to seem mean. I only meant that women are the civilizing force of society. You certainly inspire me to my best." He smiled, letting his gaze roam over her over his face before he turned away and pretended to think.
"Let me see. I met my composer friend's muse, Miss Christina Nilsson, who sang the female lead; Pierre Michot, who played the hero. Auguste Barré played Mercutio and was completely divine. In my opinion he stole the show. He cut quite a dashing figure and his vocalism was sublime." He trailed off for a moment, as if lost in thought but then brightened.
"Ah, but I think you should be much more interested to hear about a fashion exhibit I attended with my sister. It was a first of its kind. Several of New York's most fashionable designers had their newest designs for the fall on show. If a lady was interested in a certain dress, the designer was there for them to speak with and commission something."
Daisy smiled, feeling more pleased with every passing moment. Mr. Holt was eminently suitable to court her, every word he spoke was like poetry. She could only imagine that his attention and compliments would improve the more time they spent together. She nodded, flushing more when he agreed to accompany her anywhere she wished to go. "That is very kind, Mr. Holt," she murmured demurely. "I should not like to monopolize all of your time." She said it only so he would confirm that he had nothing he would rather do than accompany her anyplace she longed to do.
She flushed at his scrutiny of her face, and continued to smile at him. She knew that she should discourage him to look away, or that she herself should lower her head, but Daisy continued to look boldly at him. Her mother would be furious but Daisy smiled, pleased with herself when Mr. Holt finally looked away.
She nodded, urging him to speak more about his adventures in New York. "That sounds delightful," she murmured. She was suddenly jealous that she could not be as fortunate as he with his freedom of movement. Daisy became bored as Allaster spoke at length about the various musicians he heard in New York but she nodded when he began to speak about the fashion. "Oh, Mr. Holt, I should like to hear all about it. What designers were there and what were the fashions like? I have heard an absurd rumor that bloomers are becoming fashionable, though I swear I should not believe it!"
"But I already enjoy going to the opera and art exhibits, Miss Hubbard. They would merely be more enjoyable with your company," Allaster said, but he was beginning to realize that Daisy didn't actually require scintillating conversation from him. She merely required him to be attractive and to shower her with compliments. He began to despair that she might not actually be as interesting as he'd hoped. But her family was very well to-do and well respected in Boston. It wouldn't hurt his reputation to be her suitor.
"As for the fashions we saw, I must admit to being less attentive than my sister. There was, however, a designer showing several fashions that featured bloomers in someway or another. My sister was quite taken aback. I have a suspicion, in fact, that you and my youngest sister, Allegra, would get along famously. I sure she would love showing you her favorite New York haunts."
Daisy smiled at him and nodded her agreement. "That is most kind of you, Mr. Holt." She wondered what he thought of her and wondered if he might be persuaded to meet her father. Though Gardiner Hubbard had already written the letter to encourage the acquaintance, it was something else entirely for him to meet Daisy's potential suitor. She smiled as she imagined the dashing Mr. Holt trying to converse with her quiet Papa. It was quite an amusing picture and one that Daisy was certain would reach reality. Possibly very soon.
She nodded and looked at him intently. His discussion of fashion intrigued her and she was eager to listen to his description of his sophisticated life in New York. She smiled when he suggested that she might like to meet his sister. It would be an enormous conquest if she was invited to New York to meet Mr. Holt's family. "That would be most pleasant, Mr. Holt," she murmured and tried to contain herself. "Though I would hope your sister is not in the habit of wearing bloomers," she declared.
"Oh, no," Allaster laughed. "Allegra definitely believes that bloomers are a blight on real fashion. She is a most fashionable young woman, though I'm sure you might teach her something."
They walked in silence for a short while and Allaster drew her across the bridge that spanned the pond. He knew Daisy would not be pleased, but he was meeting with a friend in the North End for cards and he still needed to go home and change. There was no way he was going anywhere in his current stuffy, uncomfortable ensemble.
"I have always favored this spot. Away from the noise of the street. It gives one the chance to savor the beauty of the world around us." He smiled at her and then sighed. "It has been most pleasant walking with you, Miss Hubbard, but I fear that I have taken up too much of your time. I should escort you home."
Daisy smiled at his laughter and her laughter joined his. "Mr. Holt, I do believe that I would like your sister." She did not say anything else, but would let Mr. Holt suggest a future meeting.
She sighed happily as they stood on the bridge. Daisy believed this to be the most romantic of walks and she was very pleased with Mr. Holt's imagination. She thought that Mr. Holt was a fantastic suitor and she leaned a little more heavily on his arm. She nodded at his assessment. "This is a most delightful spot," she agreed. "There is something to be said for natural beauty," she allowed.
She frowned at his decision to return home. Daisy had been hoping that they might continue their walk, that he might come back for tea. But he seemed to have his mind decided and she sighed reluctantly. "You have not taken up too much of my time," she insisted. "I was enjoying myself." She frowned and looked up at him, her face almost plaintive. "But I suppose I must do as instructed."
"I, too, am enjoying myself, Miss Hubbard. It truly pains me that I must end our afternoon together, but I must attend to some business. I confess that I would much rather continue to spend time with you; you are very charming company."
Allaster led them along the path that would take them back to the street and her house. Daisy was indeed pleasant enough company, but he had had enough feminine charms for one day. It was time to deposit the girl back into her father's care and pursue something that didn't take quite as much effort. He wondered if Alec would be up for a night out.
When then finally reached her home he escorted her into the foyer and took her hand.
"Miss Hubbard, I cannot remember the last time I had such a delightful afternoon." Then, with calculated deliberateness, he bent over her hand and pressed his lips to it. He lingered a moment too long and then looked up at her through his lashes as he straightened. "I hope you will let me call on you again."
Daisy smiled at his flattery, thinking that he should be invited to luncheon one afternoon next week. She was deep into a daydream about how entranced her mother would be with Mr. Holt that she did not realize they had reached her house. She frowned, annoyed that the afternoon must end. All that waited for her was several hours of dancing and then dressing for another tedious supper with her father and mother. I would imagine that Miss Elliot never has such uneventful evenings.
But Mr. Holt smiled at her, taking her hand in his and Daisy tried to look demure. Her insides were in a flutter, uncertain if she should swoon or simply blush. "Thank you, Mr. Holt," she whispered demurely. "I had a most invigorating afternoon as well. You will call again?" she tried to keep from appearing too hopeful. One must be attentive to a suitor but never slavish in their devotion. When Allaster kissed her hand, Daisy actually took a step to regain her balance. Her cheeks were flushed and she thought with some pleasure that she probably looked ravishing. For a moment, Daisy wondered if perhaps Miller had cinched her corset too tight this morning and if that were the cause of her sudden breathlessness. No, she decided. It was not her corset so much as it was Mr. Holt's bold gaze. "I can think of nothing more pleasant," she whispered.
"I can think of nothing more pleasant than spending time with you, Miss Hubbard. You need only send word that you desire my company and I will come, forthwith."