Would you be mine

The dreams that had started to come made you blush even in slumber. Thomas' hot body pressed against your naked flesh was something you had dared only imagine in the confines of your room at night. Your subconscious was not messing around. It knew what it wanted: Thomas. It had gotten to the point where you would giggle to yourself at how happy he had made you. It was incredibly foolish and you made sure to chastise yourself, but at the same time you invited the tingling sensations that every thought of Thomas aroused in you.

When he didn't call on you for a few days, you were merely disappointed. Apparently he had actual business to attend to. After all, he was here to raise money for his inventions. However, after the week had gone by with ne'er a word from the man, you began to doubt yourself. Had his proclamations of love on the street been a farce? Had he had time to think about them and realize they were untrue? No, surely he was just busy... And yet that nagging sensation in the pit of your stomach tugged all day and night. Your father had gone away on another business trip leaving even less distractions for you.

Day after day went by and still Thomas said nothing. You began to grow angry. Fine, you thought. You didn't need him. You never needed him. Wanted him, sure. But you never needed him. You didn't need anyone. You were enough for yourself. You always had been. You made sure to repeat that mantra over and over, forcing yourself to believe it. You tried to write, but were still stuck on the love story. Every time you put your pen to paper, an image of Thomas would be conjured and you had to put the pen down again.

Sitting at your desk, you pulled out a new piece of paper. If Thomas was going to ignore you out of some childish fear to face ending things with you, you would give him a piece of your mind. When you began the address and salutations, your mind reeled with hateful things to say. How could he just abandon you with no explanation? How could he say those thing and then take them back by silence?

But as the wind whipped outside your window, and the snow fell peacefully onto the ground, your heart settled. The words that may have once held malice came out more as regret and sorrow. You poured your broken heart onto the page, explaining to Thomas that he had become your world. You explained what it was like to finally feel wanted and loved, and how it tore your heart to have that ripped away.

With a tear smudging your signature, you folded the letter and placed it in an envelope. You felt a little light headed as you found Margaret in the kitchen and handed her the letter, explaining that she should go to where the Sharpes were staying and hand this to Thomas. Her worried expression did nothing to lessen the pain in your chest and you turned away before she could offer pity or sympathy.

You waited for her to return, cursing the quietness of the empty house. You avoided the dining room where you and Thomas had spent your first meal together, and instead hid upstairs in your dark room. Watching outside the window, you finally saw Margaret returning, huddled in her jacket against the stormy winds. You walked calmly downstairs, ready for her tale of Thomas' indifference.

"Well?" you asked evenly.

Margaret hung up her coat and wiped her feet on the mat. She looked at you awkwardly.

"There was no one home, miss," she explained. "The house they were renting was empty. I left the letter in their mailbox with quite a few other unopened letters."

So they had been gone for quite a while then, you surmised.

"Thank you," was all you could force out before needing to turn around and run back upstairs.

The next few days were even more torturous. You thought the letter might give you clarity, closure, but it had not. Not knowing how Thomas was truly feeling left you feeling open and exposed. You paced your room, hating yourself for letting a man make you feel this uncomfortable.

Finally, you grabbed your coat, running downstairs to grab Margaret.

"Come on," you said. "We're going out."

Margaret put down her tea and looked up, surprised.

"Out where?"

"Anywhere," you said hastily, grabbing her arm to pull her up. "I need to get out of the house."

"Okay," she answered calmly, putting her mug in the sink before following you to the front door.

Bundling up in your coats as fast as you could, you rushed out the front door, thankful for the fresh cold air for a mild distraction.

Linking your arm with Margaret's, you began the trek to the main street of the town. The day would still not pass as quickly as you wanted. You shopped around, eventually buying a new nightgown for yourself as well as some sweets for you and Margaret. Eventually the stores started closing their doors and you were forced to consider returning home to that nearly empty house with nothing but your thoughts to occupy you.

Noting your despair, Margaret spoke up.

"Miss, perhaps he will return," she offered.

"Perhaps he has realized the error of his ways and left town for good," you countered. Margaret did not seem to buy it.

"I thought he truly liked you," she said quietly. "It does not seem as though this was in his nature. Perhaps there was a family emergency."

You sighed. All things you had thought of before. You dredged up towards your house and noticed two carriages in the driveway. Apparently your father had returned from his trip with a friend. At least that might help you distract yourself this evening.

You walked in behind Margaret and hung your coats by the door, leaving your snow covered boots beneath them.

Immediately you felt the warmth of your home and felt a little better. Hearing voices from the study, you walked carefully towards your father's thick door. There seemed to be muffled laughter coming from it. You knocked a few times and the voices went quiet. You heard footsteps coming towards the door and took a step back.

You readied yourself for your father's red face, bracing yourself for the news you would have to share with him about Thomas' abandonment. However, you found your breath snatched from your breast as Thomas himself answered the door. He smiled down at you warmly and swung the door wide open, revealing your father's smiling form at his desk.

You openly gaped at him. When had he gotten back? While you were away in town? Why was he back, and here of all places with your father? You felt a mix of anger, confusion, and immense relief. Was it not over then? Your mind flitted to the letter that most likely lay opened on a desk somewhere in his home.

Thomas said your name in that low, sultry voice you loved and your knees buckled. He moved aside to allow you entry and you forced your legs to move. You honestly thought you would never see him again, and yet here you were. He reached for your hand and you numbly let him kiss the back of it.

"Hello, darling," your father greeted from his desk. He looked happy for some reason, as though someone had just offered him a large amount of money.

"Hi," you managed a weak greeting to both of them.

"You look pale, love, are you feeling well?" Thomas asked, placing the back of his hand to your forehead to check your temperature. You nearly fainted at the sensation of his skin on yours again.

"I am fine," you tried to sound stronger than you felt. "Where have you been?" you asked more desperately than you intended.

Thomas' lips pulled into a small smile. He glanced at your father, who stood up and walked over to the two of you.

"I'll be outside," your father said with a mischievous grin and a wink at Thomas. What was happening here?

Once the door had closed, and you were alone with Thomas, everything seemed quieter.

"Where have you been?" you repeated, slightly angrier. "You left me alone with no explanation. I thought -- I still think --- Oh, I don't know!" you threw your hands up in frustration. You walked over to the chair opposite the desk and sat down, putting your head in your hands. You heard Thomas' light footsteps approach you, but you did not move. Gentle hands pulled yours away from your face and into his. Thomas was now kneeling before you.

"I have been out of town," he replied calmly. He looked at your hands as he spoke, as if he was seeing his journey imprinted on them. "I was with my sister... Getting something made," he said cryptically. You gave an exasperated sigh to which he only chuckled. "I had meant only to be away for a few days, and to inform you... But there was a storm where I was and all roads were closed to travelers and postmen alike."

Your eyes lifted to his and you felt your heart lighten a little at his words.

"Believe me, it pained me to be away from you for so long," he said, pressing your palm to his lips.

"Yes, well, as it should have," you answered defiantly. The right corner of Thomas' lips twitched up.

"Was I not missed at all?" Thomas asked, knowing the answer. You shrugged. He wasn't getting off this easy, even if it wasn't entirely his fault. "Your letter seemed to suggest otherwise," he watched your expression stretch into mild embarrassment.

"Oh," you answered, your cheeks flushing. "That." So he had read the letter.

"Yes, that," he mocked you mildly. Then his face fell. "I am sorry for leaving you in such a state," he said. "I hope I can make it up to you."

"I suppose I would be willing to let you try," you teased him, letting a smile ease onto your features.

You stood, wanting to embrace him, but he remained kneeling. He reached his hand into his pants pocket and held it there while he looked at you.

"I asked you once if you would be mine," he said softly. "Do you remember?"

"Of course," you smiled at the memory. "For the dance."

"Yes," he said. "Well, if you will have me," he retracted his hands from his pocket and produced an elegant golden ring with a small diamond. "Will you be mine?" he asked. "Forever?"

You couldn't decide where to look - Thomas' vulnerable and loving face, or the beautiful ring he presented. You finally chose his face as tears ran down your cheeks.

"Yes," you answered. "Of course, yes."

Thomas looked genuinely relieved and happy. He quickly slipped the ring onto your finger with ease. He stood at last and embraced you, letting his lips gently capture yours. The door opened just then and you sprang apart in surprise. Your father stood at the door smiling. You wiped the last tears from your cheeks and rolled your eyes at him.

"Eavesdropping?" you accused him. He merely shrugged and crossed the floor to you.

"I believe congratulations are in order?" he asked merrily, clasping his hand onto Thomas' shoulder.

"Yes, sir," Thomas agreed.

You looked at the two men with mock resentment at their plotting behind your back, but you could not hide the joy for long. In the back of your mind somewhere you remembered that this meant your father would help you publish your manuscript, but it was buried deep below the visions of your and Thomas' future together. Forever