Dear Future Husband

15. How Dare You!

8 June 1889

"How dare you?" Rosalie stood on the docks, not caring that they were rickety and snagging on the loose threads at her hem. "How dare you... how dare you just leave without so much as a farewell or a goodbye or a come visit me? How dare you disappear without a 'by your leave'?"

Maximilian was gasping and spluttering as he spat out the salty ocean water. She considered now what she had not before, in her hasty excitement mingled with indignation: that he did not know how to swim. The other boy, Lee, was standing and watching them with an amused expression but also carefully surveying Maximilian as if to see whether he would need to pull him out of the water. "Need a hand?"

He nodded in response, waving his hands up and down. The older boy reached down and gripped him beneath the shoulders, yanking him out with his clothes plastered to his body and his hair forming damp curlicues on his pale forehead. She felt immediately regretful as Maximilian began shivering, due to the abrupt disappearance of the sun.

"I'll see if I can fetch a towel or blanket," Lee assured the two of them, before leaving them alone.

Now that she was face to face with him for the first time in a week, and almost truly alone-passerby still strolled along the streets, but these docks were secluded enough that no one paid any mind to them-Rosalie felt strange. No, slipping free of Miss Wilson or her Papa's watchful eye was not unusual. But this situation certainly was out of the ordinary. She had prepared so many angry tirades and heartfelt words to speak to him, that she now did not know which to expel. What should she say? What could she say?

At a loss for words, she studied him until the silence grew heavy, pressing on her back like a burden. He looked... taller? How could he be taller? They had only been separated a month. But, no, he was darker. Faintly tanner. She could see that his hands and his neck and face were a shade more bronze than the rest of his torso, which was partially bared by the scandalous way that his shirt was made translucent by the water. Not for the first time, Rosalie understood the reasons behind Miss Wilson's edicts. Being alone with Maximilian Walker felt very dangerous for her health.

Finally, they both began speaking at once.

"I am sorry-" he said.

"I apologize-" she started.

They both burst into laughter at the awkwardness of the situation, just as Lee came back with a blanket folded over one arm. He smiled, one corner of his mouth tilting up. "Well, I am glad to see you again, milady. Maximilian has talked of no one else."

Maximilian accepted the blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders, before he elbowed Lee and muttered something to him that she couldn't quite make out. "I have not."

Rosalie smiled to think of herself being on Maximilian's mind as much as he had been present in hers. She had never been particularly shy, but a blush rose in her cheeks now, and she hoped the rapidly darkening sky would hide it.

Lee said, "Well, now that the lovebirds are reunited, shall we have a nice meal together?"

The way Lee spoke the word 'lovebirds' made her blush darken.

Maximilian looked distraught by the suggestion for reasons she could not fathom. Had he left because he disliked her company? Did he hate her and her father? "Rosalie, I... I have to tell you something. I left for a reason, and I apologize for departing as suddenly as I did, but I had to leave. I cannot return now... Please understand."

She wanted to scream, to cry, to stomp her foot on the docks. But all of those actions would be against Miss Wilson's commands to become a proper young lady, and for once she felt like following them. After all, disobeying had brought her so much heartache so far. Why shouldn't she obey now?

"Understand? Mr. Walker, I am afraid I understand nothing. How could I possibly comprehend what you have not even ventured into the realm of explaining? Why did you... Why did you leave?" Her voice broke on the last sentence, and she wrung the handkerchief in her hands.

She had wanted to ask him why he had left her. But maybe he had not viewed it as leaving her. Perhaps he had simply viewed it as moving on and beginning a new chapter of his life, without her. Perhaps he had never cared for her nor her friendship at all. Perhaps, as Miss Wilson had warned her, he had simply used her friendship as leverage for being able to stay in a cabin during the voyage instead of stowing away like a common criminal. Tears welled in her eyes, and she dabbed at them with the kerchief. Even though none of her explanations made sense and Rosalie knew he had too much pride to ever do such a thing, she could not stop the speculations from churning through her mind.

"Rosalie, please do not cry..." Maximilian reached for her, holding the edges of the blanket as if to engulf her in them.

She turned away, feeling a thread of her gown snag on the splintery wood of the docks and make her trip.

"Rosalie, stop!" His voice was commanding, almost authoritative. But she did not want to listen to his authority. "You are going to fall flat on your face and hurt yourself."

"Leave me alone, Mr. Walker! If you cannot tell me why you left without a word, then please do what you do best, and go away," she shouted as a film of tears blurred her vision and a sob choked her words.

With that, she picked up her skirts and fled.

***

"Rosalie," Papa said, crouching down and enfolding her in his arms. "Where have you been? Your dress is torn and, dare I say it, filthy. I have been sending out servants to search for you all evening! You even missed supper."

He always alternated his concern with scolding, her father. It was one of the many things she loved about him. But even he could not soothe her right now, as he picked her up though she was far too old for such displays of paternal comfort.

"I saw Maximilian," she said, sobbing into his shoulder. "I asked him why he left us, and he couldn't tell me. He said he was sorry for leaving, but he couldn't explain why he did it! Papa, do you think he hates m-us?"

"No one could ever hate you," he said, petting her hair. "And if they could do such a thing as leave you so easily, without explaining their actions, they are not worth your tears. Come along now. I shall have the cook prepare you some warm milk and cake and then send you off to bed, alright?"

She nodded, swiping at her eyes. Her voice was a hoarse croak when she said, "He isn't worth my tears. What kind of cake is there?"

8 June 1889

Dear future husband,

Please forgive the saltwater stains on this paper. I told you before that I harboured no romantic affections toward Maximilian Walker. I may have been slightly mistaken. Because ever since I left him, I cannot cease the outpour of tears from my eyes. Tonight, I ran into him on the docks again, and I was so happy to see him! So very upset, of course, because he had left without giving us any notice, but still. I would have forgiven him anything to have his companionship again.

Yet I could not forgive him, for he gave me no explanation of why he had departed and severed our friendship so coldly. He was unable to say anything except that he was regretful for leaving. Yet, if he were truly remorseful, would he not do everything possible to make amends to me? I do not believe that my demands were so unreasonable that they could not be met.

I pray for you, my future husband, wherever you are, that you are not suffering such heartache. I pray the Lord is only furnishing you with a loving family and friends who would never desert you, nor abandon you, nor leave you weeping with dozens of questions that you fear will never be answered. I pray the Lord is watching over you and covering you with His wings. I pray He would be your Rock of ages, the cleft for you, and the refuge that I feel I so desperately need right now. Amen.

I remain,

Sincerely yours,

Rosalie Winthrop