“You too? It must be going around.” Mary sighed and leaned back, stretching out her legs and crossing them at the ankles in a way that she knew would have earned a rebuke from their chaperone. That thought perked up her spirits a bit. “But I cannot imagine that you were unduly cross. You are the most angelic of creatures.”
“I’m not.” Rose shook her head. “I snapped at Junie this morning. I don’t understand why she must try to do my hair! I hate having people fuss over me.”
“I know. Even when you are sick, you like to be alone. Which is, believe me, far more appreciated than demanding to be babied and taken care of all the time.”
Rose half smiled. “I suppose. But I know that is Junie’s job, and I should not be so sharp with her. I don’t think a maid’s lot is a happy one, especially here. At least at home, the cook and Josie and Annie lived at their own houses. Here, they all have to live in those tiny rooms upstairs. They get up before us and go to bed after us. And no one ever thanks them.”
“They look at you as if you’re crazy if you do,” Mary pointed out.
Rose chuckled. “That’s true. Maybe I feel sorrier for them than they do for themselves.” She sighed. “I certainly didn’t show her any kindness by barking at her, though. I just feel—don’t you feel so hemmed in here?”
Mary looked at her, astonished. “Hemmed in? But this house is enormous. We each have our own bedchamber, and it’s twice the size ours was back home.”
“No, I don’t mean that. I mean all the people around. Everybody watching you. I know that inside they’re thinking I shouldn’t be here, that I’m not really a lady.”
“You are far more ladylike than the rest of us. If you aren’t like the other British misses, what does it matter?” Mary shrugged. “I’d far rather have you as a sister than some limp girl who would say and do everything Miss Dalrymple wants us to.”
“I know you would.” Rose smiled at her. “You’re right; I’m foolish, I know. Everyone would say that we have landed in a pot of cream. We have a beautiful place to live, all the food we could possibly want, a whole set of new clothes. I feel like an ungrateful wretch… .” She paused, looking down at her hands lying idly on the gown. “But, oh, Mary, don’t you ever feel homesick? Don’t you wish you could go back?”
“No. Actually, I haven’t felt homesick a bit. I mean, I miss Mama; sometimes I think about her, and I can’t help but cry. But I don’t miss Three Corners or Cosmo or the tavern.” Mary frowned in concern. “Do you? Rose, are you unhappy here?”
“Oh, Mary!” Rose raised her face, her cornflower blue eyes swimming with tears. “I do miss it! I miss—” She raised her hand to her mouth, and great tears spilled out of her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. “I never realized I would miss him so much!”
Mary goggled at her. “Miss who ? Rose, never tell me you miss Cosmo.”#p#分页标题#e#
Rose let out a watery little chuckle and swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “No! Not Cosmo. I’d never miss Cosmo in a hundred years. I meant Sam.”
“Oh. Sam Treadwell. But I thought you said …” Mary paused, trying to remember exactly what it was her sister had said about the young man who had courted her back home. “When we talked about him at the house in London, you said you weren’t pining for him.”
“I’m not. I don’t.” Rose sighed again. “At least, I don’t want to. But I didn’t—I didn’t realize it would be so hard. I didn’t know how much I would miss him. I keep thinking about the way he smiles and wishing I could see his smile again. He has the most wonderful brown eyes, and when he looks at me”—Rose hugged herself and gave a little shiver—“it makes me feel tingly all over.”
“Do you love him?”
“I don’t know.” Rose let her arms drop to her sides. “I’m not sure. When I think about spending my life with some other man, I can’t imagine it. But with Sam, all I can think about is being with him always. Am I terribly silly?”
“No! No, you aren’t silly at all.” Mary hesitated. “Did he—did you ever kiss him?”
Her sister’s cheeks turned pink. “Mary!”
“You did kiss him, didn’t you! You sly thing, why didn’t you tell me?”
Rose shook her head. “I couldn’t. It was—I don’t know, it was so wonderful and … and … special. I just wanted to hug it to myself. Besides, I was afraid you might … I don’t know, think less of me.”