An Encounter:

Cecilia woke early the next morning, slipped into a dress, and took to the gardens. She didn't even take a second thought of not having done her hair or makeup. A breath of fresh air was all she needed.
      She had just rounded the corner in to what she liked to think of as "the maze", though really it was just the outer-gardens which blocked the house from view, when she heard a faint whistling coming down the path toward her.


Thomas had waited as long as he could. The news of her illness the night of the ball had unsettled him tremendously. He didn't wish to seem impertinent, however, thus his staying away, but he could not refrain any longer. He must see if she was well.
      He realized, of course, that he wasn't nervous of seeming overeager to Cecilia--they were friends, after all. No; he was more worried about the mother. Cecilia had never really minded Thomas's laid back approach to society, but her Mamma had always been a stickler to customs and protocols. If he were to arrive unannounced....
      Thomas resolved to slip in through the back. He knew the way well enough--he'd snuck in more times than he could count.


Cecilia almost had to hold back a groan when she saw Thomas coming. She saw his grin flicker for an instant, but it was soon replaced again with his unwavering ease. "That pleased to see me, are you?" he questioned. Clearly he'd heard her groan.
       "Forgive me, that's not it at all. It's just: here you are half way through you morning visits--for I know we are third on your list of obligations--and I've not even begun readying myself for the day!"
       "Oh, hush, Lia. You look wonderful. I, in fact, have only come to see if you were well again, and here I see that you have recovered splendidly."
      She gave a smirk. "Well I shall give you, but splendid I will not allow."
      "How's that?" Thomas was intrigued by her meaning.
      Cecilia gave him a very long sideways glance. "If you must know, it means I look terrible--and what's more, I know it. My hair is in knots, my eyes all baggy from sleep, and let's not even mention my nose still red and puffy from the illness. In short, your flattery does not work on me, Mr. Thomas Roudington, and you would do well to remember that." Cecilia knew it was a very unforgiving speech, but she meant every word of it.
      Thomas, at first, was quite taken aback, but then he began to laugh heartily. "Ah, but now I know you are well," he said as he recovered his breath, "for you are back to scolding your dearest of friends again. Only do promise to save some for dear Wendy this time."
      Cecilia nodded gravely, "You are quite right, Mr. Roudington. She has quite a bad habit of being a tad too sweet, you know." Thomas couldn't help himself from smiling.