"Unladylike Behavior"

[angora48]

This is just a little something I wrote last week, and I've gathered up the courage to post it here. Warning: I'm a very plot/character-driven writer, so it takes a bit to get to the sneezes. I'd love to hear opinions.

angora48

“Unladylike Behavior”

Eleanor Callaway’s coming-out ball was essentially the social event of the season. Everyone who was anyone in the small Georgian town of Bakersfield was in attendance. A debutante ball was precisely the sort of thing that could take people’s mind off of troubles at the Capitol. Bakersfield would be discussing this for months to come, and no one wanted to be left out of the conversation. Those who didn’t travel in high enough circles to warrant an invitation swallowed their pride and volunteered to serve at the party.

Lucille Darcy was one from the latter group of people. While Lucy wasn’t terribly interested in high society matters herself, her mother and two young sisters were, so she’d been dragged along. Now, wearing her best dress, which probably didn’t hold a candle to Eleanor’s worst dress, Lucy was weaving through the crowded ballroom, serving cool drinks to the chattering socialites. She was perspiring terribly, because her best dress happened to be her Christmas dress, but she couldn’t risk taking a drink for fear Mrs. Callaway would catch her and throw all the Darcy women out.

“Lemonade? Cold cider?” Lucy asked respectfully to a gaggle of girls.

“Lovely dress, Lucy,” Eleanor, the lady of the hour, commented. “I especially like the patches on your skirt.”

“When’s your coming-out ball?” Sarah Bennett asked with mock sweetness, taking a lemonade.

“I’m not going to have a coming-out ball,” Lucy said steadily, keeping her pleasant face plastered on.

“Oh, that’s a pity!” Eleanor exclaimed. “I was looking forward to not going.”

“Look!” Mary Ellen Sumner cried suddenly, almost knocking Lucy’s drink tray over. “Mr. Cartwright just entered!”

The girls all turned. Lucy turned, too – she couldn’t help it. Thomas Cartwright was an absolute vision, with dark curly hair, clear eyes, and a lily-white complexion. He looked for all the world like the pictures Lucy had seen of John Booth. Her 18-year-old heart began to beat more quickly.

“Come; let’s go speak to him!” Sarah suggested frantically.

“How?” Mary Ellen asked, disappointed. “What reason have we to talk with a gentleman of his standing?”

Suddenly, it occurred to Lucy that she had a very good reason indeed. “Excuse me,” she said easily to the debutantes as she glided away and moved toward the handsome young man, where he was already talking with friends. “Hello, gentlemen,” she said graciously. “Anyone care for a cool drink?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Will Appleton said quickly. Robert Palmer followed suit, but Mr. Cartwright shook his head.

“I’m not in the mood for anything chilled at the moment,” he explained, “but thank you for the offer.”

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Lucy said recklessly.

Mr. Cartwright smiled, and Lucy did her best not to melt. “I’ll remember that, Miss D…” There was a little gasp of air, the man’s lovely face contorted, and he sneezed into his hand; Lucy was sure it was the most polite sneeze she’d ever seen. Mr. Cartwright smiled again, but it was sheepish this time. “Miss Darcy,” he finished. “Excuse me.”

“Of course,” Lucy said, far too enthusiastically.

“Oh, Tom!” Eleanor’s brother Edmund said, running up to them and pushing Lucy out of the way. “There you are! My father bought a piano for the parlor, and I thought you might take a look at it for him.”

“Oh, of course,” Mr. Cartwright replied. “Just show me where.” He followed Edmund out of the room. “Miss Darcy,” he said politely as he moved past Lucy.

For a moment, Lucy couldn’t move. She watched the 23 years of perfection leave the ballroom and wished she could be going with him. She adored Mr. Cartwright’s piano playing. When she was younger, she would sit outside the church window while he practiced and croon along softly with the music.

Suddenly, Lucy realized she should have blessed Mr. Cartwright when he sneezed – it would have been the polite thing to do. Normally, Lucy was a very polite girl, but Mr. Cartwright had a disarming air about him. It was too late now, of course. A young woman couldn’t run up to a man and bless him for a sneeze he’d sneezed ages ago.

So, Lucy returned to the party. It was a hot July afternoon, and the upper class citizens of Bakersfield went through the drinks in a hurry. On the way back to the kitchen, Lucy couldn’t help but take a small detour by the parlor. Light, tinkling notes sang out from the other side of the half-closed door. “A magnificent instrument,” Lucy heard Mr. Cartwright say. She suddenly realized that his voice didn’t have the same strength and authority that it normally did. She hadn’t noticed it earlier when she’d been in Mr. Cartwright’s intoxicating presence, but now, it was instantly evident that his voice sounded weaker than usual. Lucy’s curiosity got the better of her; refilling her drink tray was the farthest thing from her mind.

The music stopped abruptly, and Lucy heard two short, hard sneezes. “God bless you again, you old sissy,” Edmund said, laughing. “Come on; let’s get back to the party before you sneeze your head off.” Gasping, Lucy ducked around the corner so the men wouldn’t see her as they passed. Their footsteps grew faint, and Lucy sighed thankfully.

“Lucille Darcy!” came a shrill voice. Lucy jumped; Mrs. Callaway stood at the end of the hall, tapping her foot impatiently. “Lucille, you’re here to serve my guests, not to nose about my house!”

“Yes, Mrs. Callaway,” Lucy said quickly, hurrying past.

The slave girls refilled Lucy’s tray and sent her back into the throng. “Oh, excuse me! Maid girl!” Eleanor called haughtily. “Do bring me a refreshment, won’t you?” Lucy approached, careful not to spill any drinks. As she neared, she saw Mr. Cartwright addressing the horrid debutante. He kissed her hand, and Lucy knew that chivalry required it, but it still made her stomach churn.

“There you are, Miss Darcy!” Eleanor exclaimed. Lucy sullenly handed her a glass of lemonade. “You were expected ages ago. Good help is so hard to find; don’t you think, Mr. Cartwright?”

Mr. Cartwright glanced at Lucy. “Actually, Miss Callaway, I… I…” There was a catch in his breath, and he covered his mouth just in time for a forceful sneeze.

“Bless you, Mr. Cartwright!” Eleanor cried. “Honestly, Miss Darcy, is wearing a clean dress so much to ask? You’re destroying poor Mr. Cartwright’s sinuses!”

Lucy felt her face turning bright red. She sputtered, mortified, as Eleanor gave her a satisfied smirk. The manipulative socialite turned back to her guest. “Now tell me, Mr. Cartwright…”

But Mr. Cartwright still had his hand over his face. “If you’ll ex… cuse me…” He pushed his way out of the crowd, sneezing frightfully. Before Lucy had time to think, she was shoving the drink tray into Eleanor’s hands, picking up her skirts, and rushing after him.

The young man came to a halt in an empty hallway; he sneezed forcefully into her hands yet again, then, began rummaging through his pockets with one hand while covering his nose with the other. “M… Mr. Cartwright?” Lucy said timidly. “Is everything all right?”

“I seem to have… misplaced my han… handkerchief,” Mr. Cartwright mumbled. Was it Lucy imagination, or were his ears reddening ever so slightly? Regardless, his breathing was getting short again.

“Here,” Lucy said, offering the man her own handkerchief. He graciously accepted it, scarcely having time to thank her before his sneezes overtook him.

To Lucy, it seemed like she stood there for hours, waiting until Mr. Cartwright was able to sigh heavily and blow his nose as politely as possible. “I’m terribly sorry,” he told her, sound more than a little congested.

“Don’t trouble yourself about it,” Lucy responded quickly. “It’s nothing.”

“I’m afraid I’ve made a mess of your handkerchief,” Mr. Cartwright confessed.

“Not a problem,” Lucy repeated. “Have you caught a cold, Mr. Cartwright?”

“No!” Mr. Cartwright’s insistence came as a surprise to Lucy. “Miss Darcy, don’t be absurd! It’s the middle of summer. No – it was just an irritation. I’m fine now.”

Lucy couldn’t help but smile sympathetically. “Mr. Cartwright, I believe when you add a ‘d’ to the word ‘fine,’ that’s when you know you’re not fine.”

Mr. Cartwright was reddening fiercely now, and on top of everything, it was clear that he needed to sneeze again. Turning away from Lucy, he sneezed wetly into her handkerchief. Gently, Lucy put a hand on the man’s shoulders; she realized he was shivering. “Mr. Cartwright, please,” she intoned. “You’re not well. Let me walk home with you.”

“I believe it’s the gentleman’s job to ask,” Mr. Cartwright pointed out with a sniffle.

“Well, I am an unconventional lady,” Lucy informed him, “and I can see when, more than anything, a gentleman just needs to be in bed.”

“I’d hate to make you leave the party,” Mr. Cartwright protested weakly.

Lucy laughed gently. “What party? I’m hired help. Besides, escorting an ailing guest home may just be an extension of my duties.”

Mr. Cartwright sneezed twice more; he seemed to realize his defeat. “Well, if you insist…”

“I insist,” Lucy said firmly. She was being terribly forward, she didn’t think she’d blessed Mr. Cartwright for a single sneeze, and her mother would probably die from mortification, but none of that seem to matter at the moment. The look on Eleanor’s face when she saw Lucy walking out with the dashing, albeit sneezing, Mr. Cartwright while she stood still holding the drink tray certainly helped.

“I’m afraid I awoke sneezing and haven’t been able to stop since,” Mr. Cartwright admitted as he and Lucy walked down the street to his simple home.

“That’s understandable,” Lucy said kindly. “One of the Callaway’s Negro girls said her brother was feeling poorly.”

Suddenly, Mr. Cartwright stopped walking. Lucy turned and saw that his face had twisted again. He sneezed repeatedly into Lucy’s soggy handkerchief. “I’m sorry,” he said for what must have been the hundredth time that day. “This blasted cold…” He was so stuffed up; Lucy wished she had thought to aid him sooner. If Mr. Cartwright became terribly ill, it would be her fault.

“Would you like to sit for a moment?” Lucy suggested. “It may help clear your head.”

Mr. Cartwright shook his head. “I’ve taken up enough of your time already, Miss Darcy.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand; he was perspiring.

“Come, Mr. Cartwright,” Lucy said gently, taking his arm. “Almost there.”

Lucy felt a little shy about entering Mr. Cartwright’s home, but after the walk in the sun, the gentleman seemed a bit unsure on his feet, so she stayed at his side. She guided him through the impressively clean house to his bed. While Mr. Cartwright changed out of his good clothes, Lucy found a washcloth and got it damp with water from the washbasin. “If you’re running a fever, this may help,” she offered.

Mr. Cartwright was still dreadfully handsome, even perspiring and sniffling and in his nightclothes. Two people of marrying age, and one in his nightclothes! It would be a while before Bakersfield forgot about this.

“Thank you,” Mr. Cartwright said in a small, stuffed-up voice, accepting the washcloth and pressing it against his forehead. “Your handkerchief…”

“Keep it,” Lucy said quickly. “At least for the time-being. You’ve misplaced yours, and you shouldn’t be without a handkerchief when you have a cold like that.” Mr. Cartwright nodded his thanks and lowered himself wearily onto the mattress. Going against all her mother’s teachings, Lucy reached forward, took the edge of the sheet, and pulled it over the young man gently.

“I hope you recover soon,” she told him. “Church on Sunday wouldn’t be the same without your piano playing.” The smile Mr. Cartwright tried to give her was cut short by a forceful sneeze into her handkerchief. It was now or never. “God bless you,” Lucy whispered.

The blessing hung in the air, and Lucy once again remembered that she was an unmarried woman in the bedroom of an unmarried man. Even if the unmarried man had caught a dreadful summer cold, this was terribly unladylike behavior. She hurried to the door.

“Lucy?” Mr. Cartwright called quietly, and Lucy froze where she was. The young man sniffled. “Would it be too much to ask you to stay a while longer – till I am sleeping?”

Slowly, deliberately, Lucy spun her heels, walked back to the bed, and sat down.

[Guest nosey]

Nice ... very well-written. Though personally I'm a little disappointed when the sneezes aren't sounded out in stories.

[Guest ever_so_clever]

awww that was cute! I just love the nurturing.

[tma]

MMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!

Thanks very very much. If you get more ideas on this- I'd love to read more.

I loved the descriptions, the whole hurt/comfort thing and of course the whole galentry feel.

Second to Regency- I love the "old South" stories. Somewhat similar type of feel- I think.

I know that I'm a bit odd, but not having things spelled out was fine by me- it still was lovely (in my opinion).

[EscapingReality]

I wish the sneezes could have been written out mor often - but I loved the plot, it was a cute story.

[Sawyer]

You are incredible. I love love LOVE the old-fashioned theme here as well as your writing style -- you captured the time perfectly. Something about a well-respected, attractive young man coming down with a cold is just... oh my god. And I love Lucy as well! Screw chivalry, unladylike is where it's at. Haha. Eleanor was a bitch, which I'm sure is the way you hoped to portray her. I'd LOVE to see more from you in the future, your work is fantastic. And I kind of liked how you didn't spell out the sneezes; it left more to my imagination. But a variety of phonetically spelled ones and merely described ones would be nice too. (:

Great job on this!

[starpollen]

Aww yes. Several things I like quite a bit - very sneezy cold, good looking guy, unconventional lady. I hope there'll be more!

[angora48]

Oh my goodness gracious, I totally forgot I posted this fic! Wow, have I been coming here for five years? Wild. Anyway, thanks for all the nice comments! They make me feel all squishy inside.

I don't have a ton of stories posted, but there's a handful sitting around if any of you lovely people are interested (because I'm all about the shameless self-promotion!). They're pretty much all male, 'cause that's just how I roll, they mostly include phonetic sneezes, 'cause after this one I decided to give the people what they want , and they're mostly obscure fanfics, 'cause I'm weird that way.

Haven't put up anything lately. I'm horrifically busy and easily distracted. One of these days, I'll finish up the Heroes fic I've been working on, and my "the whole crew gets sick" Firefly fic is still mere fragments of ideas. Also, since I started devouring Buffy for the first time last month, I've realized that the Firefly characters aren't the only Whedon gang I should be torturing en masse. Eventually I'll get to it all!

[swann_ee_song]

*pokes this thread with a vengeance*

Still working on that Firefly fic??

*Wash!puppydogeyes*

[TheCakeIsAlive]

Ooh, such a lovely fic. Love the setting and time in which it takes place. Miss Darcy?

*looks through other comments* The sneezes weren't spelled? I honestly hadn't noticed at all, could perfectly picture the sound from your descriptions.

[Guest harriet_83]

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Nice ... very well-written. Though personally I'm a little disappointed when the sneezes aren't sounded out in stories.  <img alt="" class="bbc_emoticon" src="http://www.sneezefetishforum.org/forums//public/style_emoticons/default/innocent.gif" /><br />

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<p>Great story! I agree with the above though </p>

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