Chapter Twenty-Three

Hedges lined the garden path and Stephen used them to his advantage as he secretly followed Millie and Thomas, the young man from Bayou Sara. Stephen heard him consistently address Millie as "Miss Beaumont."

Millie laughed at his jokes and silly quips. She clapped delightfully when Thomas turned flips and told of his previous experience as an acrobat with the circus.

"You're amazing!" she exclaimed

When they stopped to sit on a bench next to the hedges, Stephen paused and listened to their conversation. Thomas explained, "I ran away from home at sixteen and joined the circus, but I grew tired of it after a couple of years."

"A circus? My tutor, Mr. Hughes, taught about such groups. If I remember correctly, they came about in fourteenth century Rome. They had horse races, mock battles, jugglers, and other acts similar to a modern day circus."

Thomas replied, "I guess."

Millie continued, "The vivid way in which Mr. Hughes described a circus helped me visualize one. Of course, I understand that today they are much more civilized."

"I'd imagine so."

"But you said you were part of one. How can you not know?"

"During my time in the circus, I mostly kept to myself."

Millie responded, "If I was near something so spectacular, I would want to know everything about it."

Stephen smiled to himself and walked back to the main house. He had little to worry about with young Thomas. The boy may be well-traveled and have physical skills, but he was still a young man whose dull nature wouldn't appeal to a vibrant young woman like Millie.

****

Millie flopped into a chair in her room. Her sigh rent the quiet and she pushed her hair away from her face.

"How was your day?" asked Amelia, as she set her needlepoint on a side table.

"Do you have to ask? Did you not hear my exasperated sigh, dear sister? Can't you pick up on my cues?"

Amelia burst out laughing. "Millie, you're speaking absurdities.

Suddenly, Millie laughed, too. "I am speaking absurdities."

When they had gathered their composure, Amelia asked, "Really, how was your day?"

"Terrible. Just terrible."

"What about Peter and Thomas? Didn't you have a good time? Did you learn anything?"

"I learned plenty. The most important things being that I have no interest in either Peter or Thomas."

"Truly?"

"Peter is a sniveling young man who is only pursuing me to get back at Priscilla. He's afraid of frogs and irritated by weeds. And Thomas, whom I had high hopes for, is unimaginative and unlearned. Did you know he traveled with the circus? He can flip through the air and yet he knows absolutely nothing about the history of that profession." Millie fell against the back of the chair and crossed her arms. "How can Father expect me to marry someone who never wants to make something of himself? Or someone who isn't curious? I would be bored to tears."

"Agreed."

"Amelia, what am I going to do? Stephen keeps following me and–"

"Stephen?" asked Amelia, sitting straighter.

"Yes, Stephen Green; remember he is the last suitor of the week."

"And he is following you around?"

"Well, yes. Unless, of course, he just happens to be everywhere I am." Millie smiled at the falsity of that statement.

"Hmm, I think he's breaking Father's rule."

Amelia stood and Millie rushed to her side. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to tell Father."

"No, Amelia, please don't."

Amelia paused. "You like Stephen?"

Heat rushed to Millie's cheeks as she nodded.

"Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Why would you think that?" Millie asked, brushing her hair with her fingertips.

"Because you settle your hair across your face like a veil whenever you're hiding something."

Millie said softly, "I've told you everything you need to know."

"And you don't want me to tell Father that Stephen is breaking the rules?"

"True."

"How is that fair to the others?"

Millie stood and paced the room. "How is any of this fair to me? I'm the one who will possibly spend my life with one of these gentlemen. Don't I have the right to be happy with my choice? So what if I like that Stephen interrupts every interlude. So what if I find him handsome, and funny, and interesting."

"I won't tell Father."

Millie rushed to her sister's side. "You promise?"

"I promise. Now you need to prepare for bed. My understanding is that tomorrow morning belongs to the gentleman from France."

Millie rolled her eyes and groaned. Would he prove any better than Peter or Thomas?

She knelt at the side of her bed. The rote prayer fell from her lips, but the simple words seemed inadequate and she deviated. "Lord, help me make the right choice."