The Proposal

by SEViolet

"Miss Foster!" His strained voice turned the girl about, eyes questioning, then she smiled.

"Mr. Forsyth," a quick bend at the knee accompanied her warm greeting. "How nice to see you here. I was not expecting it."

"Oh?" Slight disappointment fluttered across his features. "It has been my desire to have a chance to speak to you."

"Yes?" Perhaps it was spoken too eagerly, but Hattie's heart leapt with the possibility. Did she dare have hope? "On what matter?"

"Well, I had hoped to discuss-"

"Hattie!" The interruption came from a lovely but cold looking lady, and Miss Foster turned.

"Hello Franny. You are acquainted with Mr. Forsyth, I believe?"

The two silently acknowledged each other, although Franny Blumfeld's expression was decidedly disdainful. Her eyes returned to Miss Foster.

"Come, Hattie. I'm commissioned by your mother to introduce you to Mr. Edward Cullen, of Bellrun Park. He is nephew of Lord Byron Davenport you know, and stands to inherit a great fortune."

"Why should that matter to me, Franny?" A harsh blush crept over Hattie's face. Her friend cast her a scolding look.

"Obviously, silly, because he looks for a wife. What a fine match you will make, and we'll be neighbors upon my marriage to my Mr. Woodrow."

"Franny!" Miss Foster's tone was scandalized as her flush deepened. Guilty her eyes darted to Mr. Forsyth, whose expression had darkened.

"I have no desire to pursue Mr. Cullen's attention-"

"Don't be a simpleton," Franny continued, a faintly scathing look aimed at Mr. Forsyth. "There are higher stations open to you, Hattie. A good match secures your future, and invitations to the very best parties."

"There is more to life, Miss Blumfeld," Forsyth interjected but the lady scowled, her brow arched.

"Such as Sunday sermons and quaint country living? I'm certain that has merit, sir, but we must make the best we can...not settle for second best."

"Franny!" Hattie snapped the word, her blue eyes sparking. "You embarrass me in front of Mr. Forsyth!"

"The vicar knows what I mean, don't you, sir." Dismissive, Miss Blumfeld turned away. "Come Hatte, I promised your mother an introduction."

Miss Foster felt an unusual surge of rebellion sweep through her, and her back stiffened. Expression cool, she nodded.

"One moment longer, Franny. Mr. Forsyth," lowering her voice she moved slightly nearer the gentleman. "I'm afraid my attention is required elsewhere, but please, speak what was on your mind."

"I'm afraid it no longer matters, Miss Foster." With a polite bow the vicar took step back. "I'll not detain you."

"Please let me decide," she urged quietly, ignoring Franny's sigh of impatience. "What was it?"

"You truly want to know?" He was startled, but hope sprang to life in his eyes at her eager nod. "Well...I'd wanted to know, that is, would you do me a great honor, and consent to be my wife?"

To Franny Blumfeld's horror and astonishment, Hattie thrust her hands into the vicar's with a happy cry.

"Oh yes!"