Chapter 4

 ~*~the next morning~*~

            Madra reluctantly opened her eyes and emerged from the fabulous dream that she was having.  It had been about Lance and she wasn’t surprised at the realization.  She had been quite taken with him at the party the night before.  More taken than she was willing to admit to anyone but herself at this point.  She didn’t know what it was about him that intrigued her so much, but she definitely wanted to know more.  She hoped that he would come calling.

             “Wake up child, it’s time for breakfast.”  Her mammy informed her.

             Madra stretched one more time and crawled out of bed.  She went to the wash basin and wet a rag to wash her face with.  That done, she sat down at the vanity so that Mammy could brush her long raven hair.  After her hair was fixed, Madra picked out one of her everyday dresses to wear and held onto the bedposts while Mammy cinched her up tight.  Then Mammy slipped the dress over her head and helped her smooth it out.  All the necessities accomplished, Madra trekked down the stairs to join her family at breakfast.

             “The last one to make it down as usual.”  Her father joked.  Madra offered him a half smile in return and took her place at the table.  After a short prayer, they all began eating.  Her father was the first to bring up the party.  “I hope everyone had a good time last night.”

            “I do believe that the girls had a fine time.”  Her mother replied for her daughters.  “And I noticed that Madra was quite taken with that young man from Charleston.”

             Madra raised her eyebrows.  She didn’t think that anyone had noticed her interaction with Lance.  And she wondered how her mother knew he was from Charleston.  Then she remembered the conversation in the carriage on the way home.  “Yes, mother.  He was a very cultured gentleman.”  She also hoped that no one had noticed her brief absence or attributed it to Lance.  

            Later in the day, Madra was up in her room reading one of her favorite books, when Mammy appeared in the doorway and announced that she had a visitor.  Her heart leapt into her throat.  She had an uncanny feeling that it was Lance.  Standing up, she smoothed her dress calmly and sauntered out of the room like she would for any other company.  As she descended the stairs, she kept her eyes lowered like a lady, but tried desperately to catch a glimpse of him.  Then she saw him.  He was leaning nonchalantly against one of the pillars in the foyer.  He had on a dark blue suit with a wide brimmed white Panama hat.  His hands were tucked into his pants pockets and he was looking out the window towards the front lawn.  As she stepped off the last stair, he turned to look her in the face and Madra felt a shiver run up her spine.

             “Miss Carlson.”  Lance greeted her, bowing deeply. 

             “Mr. Bass.”  She followed suit and dipped a small curtsey.  “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

             “I was riding through the area and decided to stop in and see you.  That’s alright with you, I hope?”  He questioned a little uncertainly.

             “Of course.  Come with me.  I’ll take you on a tour of the grounds.”  Madra instructed and walked out the door with her head held high.  She knew that he followed immediately behind her because she could feel his presence with every fiber of her being.  She fought not to show her emotions, to act like a shy Southern belle.  As they walked, she pointed out the different areas of the plantation.  She listened to him tell her about his estate in Charleston that he’d inherited from his grandfather.  His mother and father had both died at an early age, struck simultaneously with tuberculosis. 

             “I’m terribly sorry about your parents.”  She offered her consolation at the mention of the tragedy. 

            “Thank you Madra.  It’s alright if I call you Madra isn’t it?”

             “Of course.  May I also call you Lance?”  She asked in turn.

             “Absolutely.”  He replied a little too quickly, then blushed at his own eagerness.  They had reached the banks of a small creek and Lance turned to face Madra.  He took her small delicate hands in his larger ones and spoke softly.  “I would like to think that we were on a first name basis.”

             The throaty rumble of his deep voice caused Madra to blush for no obvious reason.  “So, how long are you visiting for?”  She asked, hoping that he couldn’t see the redness in her face or sense how nervous she was.

             Lance stepped closer and took her face in his hands.  He looked into her eyes and leaned forward.  Just as their lips were about to touch, Madra interrupted him.  She stepped back a little ways and whispered, “We haven’t known each other but a day Lance.  You shouldn’t take such liberties.”  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned and started walking back towards the house.  She wanted to kiss him so badly it physically pained her not to.  But she didn’t want him to think that she was cheap or trifling.

             “Madra!”  Lance called, trotting to catch up with her.  He took her arm and made her stop her fast walk.  “Please.  I’m sorry.  I don’t know what came over me.  It won’t happen again.”

             “I accept your apology, but we should get back to the house before my father sends out a search party.”  Madra tried to laugh it off.  “Would you care to stay for supper?”

             “I’d love to.”  He replied and they made the rest of the short journey to the house in silence.

             Once they got inside, Madra informed the cook that they’d have an extra person for supper and then her and Lance went into the study to greet her father.

             “Daddy, I’d like to formally introduced you to Mr. Lance Bass of Charleston.”

             “Mr. Carlson.”  Lance said and stepped forward to shake the older man’s hand.

             “Lance.  It’s a pleasure to meet you.  Now I can at least know who my daughter is so fascinated with.”  Lance and Madra both blushed at his comment.  Madra excused herself and Lance and Mr. Carlson made political small talk until it was time for supper.

Chapter 5