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They were going out to the park today. They would be seen together, him and Miss Quincy. Certainly by most of the people in his church but also a good number of other craftsmen and their families, and many of Benjamin's customers as well.
He always wore his best to church, but this morning he washed and dressed particularly carefully, his whole body thrumming with excitement.
He wondered what dress and bonnet Miss Quincy would wear and what they would talk about. Would her friends and acquaintances be there as well? Maybe her sisters, even? That thought caused a bit of anxiety to creep in, mixing with the excitement in his stomach.
He didn't taste the tea or cold leftovers they ate before they started out. He could barely hear the minister's sermon to the point where Georgiana had to nudge him several times so he could remember to recite a prayer or stand for a hymn. There was some mingling after church, of course. Georgiana stopped to speak and laugh with some of her friends while Benjamin waited patiently.
"You've been very quiet," Georgiana said as they started home.
"I'm going to meet Miss Quincy after this," Benjamin said. Charity's pace had begun to lag, so he picked her up, holding her securely on one hip as they walked. "We'll be going to the park together since she will not be able to join us for the evening meal."
Georgiana’s eyebrows rose. "Well, good. If you're serious about each other, it's good that people will be able to see that." She was quiet for a moment. "But don't give too much weight to it either. If this between you and Miss Quincy doesn't last, then it doesn't."
"Why would you say that?" He looked over at her sharply.
Georgiana sighed. "I hope it does, I do with all my heart. But she's the first woman you've ever courted, the first person you've ever shown an interest in. I just don't want you to feel . . ." She stopped right there on the street and turned to him, reaching up to cup his cheek. "If this isn't forever, Ben, it's nothing wrong with you. Remember that."
He swallowed hard and nodded. "I will."
Benjamin helped Timothy and Georgiana get the children home, fed, and put down for their naps before checking his coat and neckcloth one more time.
"You look fine," Georgiana told him with a small fond smile as he fussed.
He bent and kissed her on the cheek. "I have to go."
Then he was off, stepping back out onto the street and heading toward Miss Quincy's house.
It was a beautiful day, the perfect day for a walk. The sky was clear and blue, and the sun was out. The air was pleasantly warm. Benjamin could feel a cold breeze coming off the water as well. It would mean that they could take their time and enjoy the weather without getting hot and uncomfortable, even with the hats and layers of clothing they'd be wearing.
When he came into view of her house, he saw Miss Quincy waiting for him on her stoop. She wore the red dress with the belt she'd worn when he'd first visited and a straw bonnet with a matching red ribbon.
"Mr. Lewis." She smiled when she saw him and came down the steps to take his arm.
"Miss Quincy. You look lovely," he said with a thrill that he could say that to her.
He was very aware of her closeness as she fell into step beside of him, aware too of the press of her gloved hand on the crook of his arm.
It was several blocks’ walk to the small city park flanked by the Methodist church on one side and the Presbyterian church on the other. It was not as grand as the parks in some of the other wards; people still brought their horses to graze there, particularly on Sundays, but it was good enough for the neighborhood.
Today was beautiful and the day of rest, so there were plenty of people there as Benjamin had known there would be. There were small parties of people sitting under trees, picnicking or watching the horses. Even more people circled the park on the small footpath that looped around the edge of the grassy green. Women and men walked arm in arm with giggling children running ahead, and small groups of young women walked together. Most had just come from church and were still dressed in their Sunday finest, giving themselves an opportunity to show off a new bonnet or coat or just to enjoy the good weather and chat with friends.
They passed under the wrought-iron arch into the park and fell into step with the flow of people on the footpath.
Benjamin tried to keep his gaze on the path ahead of them, mostly so he didn't run into anyone on the crowded walkway. Little things about Miss Quincy keep distracting his attention, though—the soft skin of her throat just above the collar of her dress or the dark wisps of hair at the nape of her neck that her bonnet didn't quite cover.
He cleared his throat. "So have you been to any more botany lectures?" he asked, wanting to start the conversation off as lightly as he could.
Miss Quincy pushed her glasses back up her delicate nose and tipped her head to look at him around the brim of her bonnet. "Unfortunately not. The Friends of the Botanical Club have not been invited to take part in another open lecture, but I suspect there will be more, perhaps further into the semester. And what about you, Mr. Lewis? Have you read any more poetry?"
It took him a moment to recall their conversation about Mr. Bryant and his work. He shook his head. "Like you, I haven't had the pleasure of another public reading."
They fell into silence for a moment, their pace slow as they circled the park.
There were trees along the path, not enough to say that it was lined by trees but enough to shade their way. Benjamin wondered what sort they were. They were not oak or maple; those he could identify. Miss Quincy would surely know. He was about to ask when they came abreast of an older couple Benjamin recognized from church.
He nodded to them. The elderly man smiled pleasantly enough as he always did, while his wife pretended not to notice Benjamin's presence at all as she always did.
Miss Quincy frowned as they passed the couple. Benjamin's stomach lurched, wondering if she would ask or comment. She didn't and they walked on, leaving the couple behind.
Up ahead a small knot of people had formed, interrupting the stream. As they drew closer, Benjamin saw it was three or four older men with newspapers tucked under their arms.
"My entire career I've designed whaling ships, and I am telling you Arctic exploration is impossible," one said quite heatedly, his round face and balding head pink from passion and possibly also the sun.
"But with coal engines—" started one of his companions, a gray-haired man with spectacles and a coat badly in need of patching.
"A fool's errand!" the pink-faced man cut him off. "From an engineering perspective, it cannot be done. I don't care how brave or foolhardy your crew is, the ships themselves won't survive such a crossing."
"But—" another member of the group began.
Benjamin and Miss Quincy passed them by and left them arguing about it. When Benjamin looked back over at Miss Quincy, she was smiling, and it made him smile too. He wondered if he should perhaps inquire about the trees.
Her smile slid away as they turned the corner. "That couple we passed," she said, and Benjamin knew he wasn't going to be able to avoid that conversation. "Did they know you?"
"They attend our church."
She took that in for a moment. "Does she always ignore you?"
Benjamin sighed. "Yes. Some people do."
She threw him a sharp glance sparkling with anger, although he thought it was not at him. "Really? How extremely rude! I can't imagine."
He fidgeted. He couldn't help it; he hated talking about this. They were coming to a clear spot on the path without many people around them, so he paused and took her hands in his. "I wasn't raised like this, you know. Not as a man—well, a boy. My mother raised me to be a girl, and this"—he let go of one of her hands to gesture at his own body—"was a choice I made."
She looked at him, her gaze very serious behind her glasses. "I know."
He let his breath out in a small sigh, somewhere between hurt and disappointment. "Oh."
"Not that there's anything wrong with the way you are or the kind of man you are," she hurried to add. "It's just that the first time we met, I could tell that was who you used to be but also not who you were anymore, which is why I've never brought it up." She looked down at the path between their feet and then back up at him. "Did I say the wrong thing?"
"No." It was a small blow to his ego easily washed away by his relief at the fact that she'd known and agreed to be courted by him anyway.
"Do people treat you like that often?" she asked, her features pinching into a frown all over again.
"Not everyone is so hostile, obviously. I run a good business, I attend the local church, and I have friends. Most people accept me at face value as they should. It's really all I want, but I discomfort some people simply by existing. Often they don't even realize why they feel uncomfortable, they just do, and they tend to take it out on me."
Miss Quincy drew in an angry breath through her nose.
"Does it bother you? That some people might treat me like that?" He hesitated for a moment, then added, "And by extension, you?"
"Of course it bothers me," she snapped, and Benjamin's heart sank even lower.
His fingers tightened around hers. "I understand. If you were with many other men, no one would look twice at you."
"I'm not worried about me," Miss Quincy said with passion, seeming to bristle all over. "I'm worried about you. You're a good man; how could they treat you so poorly? If she does it again next time we meet, I'll give her a piece of my mind."
"Ah, well," Benjamin said, slightly worried about the possibility of Miss Quincy accosting an elderly church lady in the name of defending his honor. "I'm sure that won't be necessary. She's very old. Just smile and move on. That's what I try to do."
"No one is too old to learn to treat people kindly and with respect."
Someone behind them coughed, and they turned to see a middle-aged lady waiting for them to stop blocking the path. Miss Quincy took his arm again and they continued on.
a short ways from them was a small tree under which no one was sitting, and Miss Quincy guided Benjamin over to it so they could speak in relative privacy without blocking the walkers on the path.
Miss Quincy settled herself on the grass under the tree, her skirts folded neatly around her. "May I tell you something?"
"Certainly." He couldn't think of what else to do, so he settled beside her.
"I told you that I'd been courted before."
"Yes." By someone who had broken her heart. Benjamin remembered the look of tightly controlled hurt on her face when she'd told him.
"Her name was Hope," she said. "She was my best friend, and I loved her very much." She looked down at her hands against the cloth of her skirt. "For a long time, I thought I'd never be able to call someone else ‘friend’ again, the way I called her that. But I want to with you. So." She straightened her back and looked at him. "Now you've told me one of yours, and I've told you mine. A secret for a secret." She held her hand out, palm up in the grass between them.
Not reaching for his but letting him come to her.
"Thank you." He placed his hand in hers, letting his fingers slide into the spaces between hers.