A Word or Two long awaited

Quincy dropped the flowers one by one on the table. They were all from Marguerite's over-abundant garden, and Ceci's duty was to arrange them artistically in a tall crystal vase that sat in the middle of the table. Unfortunately, some of the flowers had been decapitated or de-petaled thanks to Quincy's absent-minded expertise, and so the arrangement appeared rather sparse. Ceci had to stifle a grin. Quincy's antics no longer annoyed her like they used to. And all in all, she appreciated his efforts, as he was a boy, and most boys would rather have swallowed a toad than agree to pick flowers for a party. She really couldn't complain.
This was the last of the flower arrangements, the last in a long process of decoration and preparation. Marguerite, lovely and flustered, would not stop moving about, straightening this and fixing that and smiling at everyone.
Early guests appeared and were ushered through the sweet smelling parlor out to the beautifully furnished lawn. The garden seemed to spill across the open grass and the soft space was carpeted by rugs and billows of fabric. A long banquet table stood beneath a canopy of red and yellow leaves, the very beginning of autumn color.
Ceci sighed as she watched Marguerite smile and greet her guests, and thought how well happiness suited her features. Mr. Brooke bustled joyfully through the doors and out onto the lawn, kissing Marguerite smartly on both cheeks. Ceci laughed heartily.
Three violinists appeared, and Ceci took charge of ushering them to a corner beneath the shady branches of the canopy.

And there appeared Christopher, looking unusually tall and beaming gloriously. The moment he spotted his Marguerite, he swept her into an unabashed kiss, wherein all the guests cried out that they should share the first dance.
And so the lawn was cleared of obstacles, and the sweet couple waltzed in so close proximity that Ceci could barely distinguish the two; they seemed to be almost one person.

Sam Redford asked Ceci for a dance, and then his cousin William. She danced with Christopher once--he felt it his duty to tear himself away from his bride-to-be for a dance with her closest friend-- and once with Mr. Brooke, who bounced along on his two left feet. A few others asked her, but she turned them down. She wanted to fade into the background and observe rather than partake; she wanted to soak in this happy, care-free celebration. After all, it was only a moment in her lifetime; she wanted to remember every detail... before things changed and she had to say goodbye.
The sky grew darker, and candles were lit all around the little party. They sparkled and flickered like warm stars and their little lights cast glowing spots on faces and hands.

Suddenly, a streak of green flew past, followed by a streak of pale blue. Ceci sat up straight.
"Why you little!" Pearl squealed, her pale curls flying behind her.
Quincy laughed wickedly as he fled her wrath.
Ceci set her wine glass on the stool by her elbow and slowly (with hands shaking) threaded her way through the growing throng of dancers on the lawn. She stepped hesitantly through the brightly-lit doorway and into the shadowy hall. It was empty; Ceci breathed a sigh and barely stopped to wonder whether she were disappointed or relieved... when a dark shadow in the corner caught her eye.

He held that familiar broad-rimmed hat in his hands, which kept moving slowly along the brim. His head was bent, staring down at the floor and his bright hair was mussed--more so than usual. And he stood against the wall, just inside the front doorway.
Ceci turned round and looked at him for a long moment. It was her intent to make him look up through the persistence of her gaze. She felt her heart beat against her ribcage like a trapped bird. It was truly torture, having memorized a hundred intelligent things to say in preparation for such a situation only to have them flung from her mind just when she needed them. She couldn't bear her own silence-- to say anything, anything--
"Mr. Lennox!" Marguerite's voice suddenly appeared from behind, and they both jumped.
"Oh, thank you for coming!" she stopped abruptly when she finally seemed to notice Ceci standing rigidly in the hall. "Won't you... both... come out into the party?"
At which point Ceci turned quickly and followed on her cousin's departing heels. Corran followed too, slowly, watching that retreating head of dark curls.


"Sicily!" Pearl cried, grabbing at Ceci's arm. "Come on and dance with me! Now they've stopped with all those boring formal dances... c'mon!" She pulled Ceci into the fray and twirled herself beneath her raised arm.
Pearl was always the fantastic one for diversions. The music's rhythm beat in Ceci's ears, for they danced close to the little orchestra (three violinists plus a reed-flutist and Sam Redford with a make-shift drum) and for a moment she didn't think of anything.
It didn't last too long, however, for Quincy stole up close to Pearl and dropped a little beetle in her hair and of course she had to go after him again. And all at once an arm suddenly pressed round Ceci's waist and drew her aside from the dancing crowd and the pounding music.
A voice close to her ear said her name. Only... coming from that voice she could barely believe the name it gave, or its frightening nearness to her.
"Ceci..."
Ceci looked up into Mr. Lennox's face. She felt her cheeks burn. The music and the dancers faded into the background.
"Could I have a word?" His voice was still an intimate whisper, but somehow strangely formal. He waited for an answer.
Ceci wondered--senselessly, for such a moment--where his hat had got to. He wasn't holding it in his hands; they were empty.
"I... I didn't know you would be here," was the only thing she could think to say.
Mr. Lennox smiled. His eyes left her face, where they had been so transfixed, and wandered. His smile slowly faded as he said, "As much as I regard your cousin and Mr. Tout, I came only with the intention of... if not speaking with you, at least seeing you."
His eyes traveled quickly back to her face, as if to gage her reaction.
An image suddenly came into Ceci's mind: Mr. Lennox-- Corran-- heaving on the ground, black with soot and blood and struggling to breathe. It was one of the left-over nightmare images from the day James Carter lost his house to a fire. She took in a sharp breath to cover the gasp that came out.
"I... I finished your book, Mr. Lennox--the one you loaned to me. It was quite good and very... very true." Ceci said.
Mr. Lennox frowned again and looked away from her. "I wish you wouldn't call me that. I thought we were friends enough to hear you say Corran... not Mr. Lennox."
"But you never gave me leave to call you Corran," Ceci replied.
"Your brother used my first name hardly a moment or two after I met him," Mr. Lennox returned.
"I'm not like Quincy. And I never knew for sure whether we were friends," Ceci said.
"Not friends?" Mr. Lennox said, surprise apparent on his face. His brow furrowed in a way Ceci could never remember seeing before.
"Well, I'll have my book back then, if we aren't friends. Strangers hardly borrow books to each other."
Ceci flinched. She couldn't tell from his face or from his voice whether he were teasing or not. But she thought not.
She took in a deep breath. "I simply don't know what to say to you. What is it you want from me?" She said.
Mr. Lennox sighed. "I'm skirting the issue quite clearly," he said. "Pearl gave you my letter?"
Ceci nodded, looking down.
"Then I'll tell you. I meant every word of it."
Ceci didn't look up. After a moment, Mr. Lennox reached out to her and grasped her hands.
"Ceci," he said, leaning closer to her. "If we can't be friends, then perhaps we might find another arrangement. Look at your cousin."
Ceci turned to gaze out at the crowd and saw Marguerite happily engulfed in Christopher's arms.
"I simply... simply cannot escape from the thought that you and I should end up that way." Corran's voice was a penetrating whisper again.
Ceci could feel his grip on her fingers tighten as though he would draw her to him. She looked back at him, and her heart fluttered unnervingly in her chest. There was that image of a gasping, choking Corran trapped in her mind. "Just promise me right now that I'll never, never, have to endure such a terror as you gave me... the day you disappeared into that burning house. I wouldn't bear it again, Corran Lennox." To her dismay, tears pricked at her eyes. They gathered into pools at the corners and before she could stop them, fell down from her lashes onto her cheeks.
Corran only smiled down at her. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek and her temple and her hair.
Out came a little sob and she leaned into his embrace. She let the tears fall freely and reached up to put her arms about his neck.
And he buried his face in her hair.