"I was so blessed. The first person I gave my heart to was an angel who plucked the feathers off his wings and built a nest for it." Kamand Kojouri

----

V.

Cressie's anxieties surrounding her conduct towards Jem Denham were settled in how he had received her apology, and in how he had apologised for his own actions as well.

Because of this, she was unsure of why her stomach still felt as though it were tied in knots in his presence. If he was not angry with her, or ashamed of her behaviour, then why did she still feel so odd?

"Would it ... would it be too presumptuous of me to ask for a second dance, Miss Martin?"

Cressie's knotted stomach flipped over as she nodded, and she gladly took Jem's arm as he led her back into the sequence of dancers. As she stood across from him, Mr Jem smiled at her. It was a smile of youthful vibrance and spirit, and Cressie found herself quite breathless in receipt of it.

Cressie did not look away from Jem Denham's ocean blue eyes throughout the entire dance. Of course, Cressie had never seen the ocean, but the hue of his eyes was what she imagined it to look like. Mr Jem did not look away from her eyes either, no matter how he stumbled through the steps.

Her own amused smile teased at her lips as she once again thought of a fawn dancing. Mr Jem was so tall, with such long arms and legs, that the image could not quite escape her mind when she danced with him. She had told him as such, and she quite meant it. Cressie found it to be an extremely favourably quality. Somehow, Mr Jem's lack of grace on the dancefloor made Cressie feel oddly safe in his presence.

Though, this notion of safety did nothing to quell her tight, uneasy stomach.

"I believe I should be offended at your laughing at me, Miss Martin," Jem murmured to her when the dance finished as they all applauded the musicians.

Cressie's eyes widened. "Oh, no. I would never," she promised him.

"Do not worry. I am glad to be able to make you laugh, even if it is at me." Mr Jem smirked as he bowed his head to her.

They looked at one another then, unsure of what to do next. Cressie imagined that, like her, this was the first proper ball that Mr Jem had attended. Despite being the brother of the duchess, his young age had to have meant that he was excluded from occasions like this until now. What would he had gotten up to while the aristocrats in his family danced and dined? Cressie could sense Mr Jem's spirit, and she wondered, or rather hoped, that it was as childlike at hers.

Cressie's own unladylike spirit wanted to run away from this ballroom. Not out onto the street, but to run upstairs, to explore and poke around nosily in rooms that were shut away. Such silly, clandestine behaviour excited her, and she got the sense from Mr Jem that he would be very agreeable to such a suggestion.

It took her mother appearing beside her to remind Cressie that she was, in fact, a lady, and to be alone with a man was entirely unacceptable. Her heart sank, and it joined in on the congealed, tangled mess that was her stomach.

Mr Jem's back straightened in the presence of Mrs Martin, and he bowed once again to her. "Your daughter is a lovely dancer, Mrs Martin," he complimented nervously.

Mrs Martin offered a polite smile. "Yes, she is indeed," she agreed. "Good evening to you, Mr Denham." She smoothly threaded her arm through Cressie's and began to lead her away.

Cressie anxiously looked over her shoulder at Mr Jem, where he offered her a warm, understanding smile. He nodded his head, before he turned in the direction of his sister.

"You cannot allow one man to singularly command your attention, Cressie," her mother murmured to her. "We do not want the gentlemen here thinking that your affections have been captured already."

Cressie recoiled at the notion, almost affronted at her mother's insinuation. She was being ridiculous. That was not at all what she was doing. Cressie merely enjoyed Mr Jem's presence and smile and spirit and demeanour. There was certainly no affection, and she was confident in this assessment owing to the fact that her stomach seemed to be seized quite painfully as she thought of Mr Jem and the idea of affection together.

"I have someone that I would like to introduce you to. I secured my own introduction from the duchess while you were dancing. He is a Mr Everett Delaney." Mrs Martin's tone was hushed but excitable. "He is a landed gentleman originally from Suffolk, I am told, but he has made his fortune in Yorkshire with several cotton mills. He is in search of a wife this Season."

An overwhelming feeling of dread quickly filled Cressie as she sensed her mother's scheming, good intentioned as she was. It was only the first ball of the Season. How many more Everett Delaney's would she be forced to meet? And which one of them would she be encouraged to wed? She only prayed Mr Delaney was not an ogre.

Mrs Martin nonchalantly led Cressie over to a well-dressed gentleman standing with an older couple. He looked rich and distinguished to be sure, but he also appeared old. Cressie was certain that her mother would chastise her for thinking a man who would have to have been in his mid-thirties old, but as she was not yet seventeen herself, this gentleman was old.

Mr Delaney noticed Mrs Martin's presence immediately, and he smiled a charming smile. He had an elegant face with handsome features, and he carried himself with an air of superiority and grace. His hair was thick, and dark blond in colour, while his eyes were a cool grey. They found Cressie immediately, and his smile widened.

Cressie's mind unwittingly compared it to the smile she had received only moments ago from Mr Jem. She felt nothing of Mr Delaney's spirit in his smile. She had no desire to run amok with him, though she was certain that a man who held himself with such poise had far better things to do than find mischief. But it was unsettling not to sense this man's spirit. Did he have any?

"Mrs Martin, how lovely to see you again so soon. And I see you have brought me a lovely flower," crooned Mr Delaney smoothly.

Mrs Martin laughed musically, seemingly charmed by Mr Delaney's compliments. "My Cressida is very lovely, is she not? You are quite perceptive, and very kind, Mr Delaney," she responded. "But allow me to introduce my daughter to you properly. Mr Delaney, this is Miss Cressida Martin. Cressida, may I introduce Mr Delaney."

"I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Martin," Mr Delaney bowed to her, and Cressie suddenly remembered to curtsey.

"And I yours, Mr Delaney," Cressie replied automatically, and rather unenthusiastically. A side glance from her mother prompted Cressie to put on a charmed face. She was not in this ballroom to suit herself.

"I would be truly honoured if you would grant me the next dance, Miss Martin, if you are not engaged already."

"Cressida would be delighted, Mr Delaney!" exclaimed Mrs Martin. "And she is certainly not engaged."

Mr Delaney stepped forward, his movements graceful and poised, and offered his arm to Cressie. With a nudge from her mother, Cressie placed a hand on his arm and allowed herself to be led towards the dance floor by Mr Delaney.

"Are you enjoying the evening, Miss Martin? I am finding the festivities animated indeed."

"I ... yes," Cressie managed to say, stumbling over her words. "It is a lovely party." She stole a glance up at Mr Delaney, and she found that he was looking upon her with his focussed, confident eyes. Cressie could not quite determine what he was thinking. To be polite, she asked, "Are you enjoying the evening?"

"Oh, most definitely," he replied.

Mr Delaney was a fine dancer who never put a toe out of sequence. He was light on his feet and led Cressie with expertise and experience. Cressie knew that she ought to have been impressed, but she couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't.

"I am certain your drawing room will be filled with gentleman callers tomorrow," Mr Delaney commented.

"Oh, I hope not," Cressie responded without thinking. The moment the words had escaped her lips, she blushed. She had not even begun to think of the prospect of having gentleman calling on her. What on earth did one speak about? Marriage, probably. Cressie managed to stop herself from shuddering and composed herself well enough to correct her slip of the tongue. "Our drawing room could not possibly fit more than one or two callers."

Mr Delaney chuckled. "Well, that is pleasing news," he replied. "I am in London this Season to select a ... a flower for my garden," he put delicately. "I should be incredibly honoured if you would allow me to call upon you in the morning so that we might speak again in a room a little quieter than this one."

Cressie managed to hold her tongue this time, and she did not allow herself to say what had first popped into her mind. This was what was meant to happen. This was why she and her mother were in London. Perhaps she had no sense of Mr Delaney's spirit yet. Maybe it would come if they spoke again. And just maybe at the next ball she would meet someone who would not be quite so old, or quite so preoccupied with flowers. Cressie imagined herself more like a bird that could fly. Or a bird that wanted to fly but whose wings were clipped.

"I ... I would welcome your visit, Mr Delaney," Cressie said, stammering through her acceptance.

Mr Delaney offered her an amused smile. "Excellent."

***

Mr Delaney arrived at the Martin residence promptly the next morning at ten o'clock. Mrs Martin had already had Cressie up and dressed, and she was as proper as she ever had been at that time of day.

Mr Delaney was led to the small drawing room by their servant, Nelly, whom they had employed for the summer out of necessity for appearances. He arrived with two beautiful bouquets, a large one for Mrs Martin, and a smaller, tasteful arrangement of tulips for Cressie.

"I did not ask for your favourite blooms, Miss Martin. I thought I would bring you my favourites." Mr Delaney sounded very satisfied with himself. "I can see that they are your favourites, too."

Cressie did think that the pink flowers were very pretty, but if she thought of her favourite flowers, she thought of the wild ones growing in fields that brushed against her petticoats as she ran.

"You are very kind, Mr Delaney," Cressie said gratefully as she brushed her fingertips over the silky petals.

Mrs Martin sat in a chair by the window, her embroidery in her hands, though Cressie knew that while Mr Delaney was present, not a stitch would be made. She and Mr Delaney both sat down on the settee, a few feet between them as they turned in towards one another.

"I find that I have thought of little else but our dance together last night," he began, exhaling through a surprised smile. "You are quite an enchanting young lady."

Was Cressie supposed to return the compliment? She wasn't sure. What was polite? It would be an out and out lie if she told him that she had thought of little else but him? Why, she had dreamed of fawns the night before! And as soon as the thought popped into her head, it had fallen out of her mouth. "I have been thinking about deer!"

Mr Delaney frowned, perplexed. "Deer?" he repeated. "Are you fond of venison?"

And at the mention of venison, Cressie was shocked into realising that she would never touch such meat again. "Fawns," she persisted, with no sense of control over her own tongue.

"Cressida is quite the naturalist, Mr Delaney!" Mrs Martin called anxiously. "Always reading and caring about God's creatures! She possesses such a compassionate heart."

Mr Delaney appeared pleased. "I should like to shoot such a creature for you one day, Miss Martin. It would be my honour."

Cressie was utterly horrified at the notion, and Mrs Martin noticed this immediately. She abandoned her embroidery and rushed to the back of the settee, placing her hands on Cressie's shoulders. "Oh, Mr Delaney. You have shocked Cressie most considerably with your thoughtfulness. She would be delighted to receive whatever you send when next you hunt."

No. No, she would not. What if he sent her a fawn? Cressie jumped when she felt a pinch on the back of her neck, and she dismissed her panicked thoughts. She was supposed to be being polite.

"Perhaps you could just look at it," Cressie suggested feebly. "You need not shoot anything."

Her comment seemed to amuse Mr Delaney considerably, and he laughed heartily. Mrs Martin joined in.

"Oh, Miss Martin, what a delicate heart you have indeed." He certainly seemed gratified with Cressie's comments, even though she, herself, felt as though she was stumbling rather terribly through the conversation.

Their conversation did, thankfully, move away from hunting and fawns, and Mr Delaney spent the next half hour telling Cressie about his success in the north with his cotton mills, and the rather palatial Yorkshire estate that he had recently purchased. Cressie responded with appropriate enthusiasm when he gave her the opportunity to respond.

In speaking with Mr Delaney, Cressie was able to decide that he was a very self-assured gentleman who was rather concerned with himself. Though, she supposed that was confidence, and she could not dismiss a man for having confidence.

She thought him pleasant and charming enough, but she felt nothing when she thought of romance. All she could think of was the fact that he was some two decades older than her. Would not he be more satisfied with a lady with more experience?

Cressie was quite certain that he would find someone better suited to him during the Season.

When Mr Delaney took his leave of them, he surprised Cressie by taking her hand and kissing it. Cressie's arm fell practically dead in shock at his actions. He was kissing a dead limb. But he did not seem to notice.

"I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Martin." Mr Delaney smiled once more, before offering Mrs Martin his compliments for her hospitality. And then he was gone.

"What a charming young man, Cressie," Mrs Martin declared.

"Young?" repeated Cressie. "Mama, he could well be older than you!"

Mrs Martin tsked. "Pish posh," she said dismissively. "It does not hurt for a gentleman to have some years and worldliness. They are matured and ready to support a wife and a family. I thought Mr Delaney was perfectly lovely."

Cressie physically bit down on her tongue to stop herself from suggesting to her mother that she marry him. She sat down in a huff on the settee and knitted her fingers in her lap.

Mrs Martin sighed sadly and sat down beside her. "Darling, you will know such happiness when you are married. You will know what it is to be the mistress of your own house. You will know security. You cannot know how it pains me to have failed to give you that surety. I feel like I have failed you, and I am trying to mend it now."

Guilt stirred in Cressie's stomach. "Mama," she whispered. She didn't want her mother thinking or feelings those things.

Mrs Martin put an arm around Cressie's shoulders and kissed her cheek. "Everything will be alright. Do not you worry."

Nelly knocked on the door to the drawing room and both Cressie and Mrs Martin looked up.

"Another caller for Miss Martin, ma'am. A Mr Denham is here."

Mr Jem stepped into the drawing room carrying an expensive bouquet of flowers in one hand, and a velvet drawstring bag in the other.

Both Cressie and her mother stood up immediately, and Cressie felt as though a terrible weight had been lifted off of her shoulders now that she was standing in the presence of Mr Jem again. She felt his vibrance immediately, even if there was a nervous energy about him, and it made her smile. Her friend was there. It was so lovely to feel that a friend was near.

But the moment after she smiled, Cressie felt her stomach begin to tense and gurgle. Was she hungry? Perhaps that was what was wrong with her?

"Good morning, Mr Denham," greeted Mrs Martin, quickly putting on a pleasant smile.

Mr Jem bowed to her, and then he bowed to Cressie. "Good morning to you both. I hope you are well, and I apologise for calling unannounced."

"Certainly, you are welcome," Mrs Martin beckoned him into the room, before she wandered over to her chair by the window with her abandoned embroidery.

Mr Jem looked between Mrs Martin and Cressie rather awkwardly, before he made his way over to Mrs Martin at the window. "I have brought these for you, Mrs Martin." Mr Jem held out the bouquet of flowers to her.

"Chrysanthemums," Mrs Martin murmured as she appraised the bouquet. "Did you know, Mr Denham, on the Continent, chrysanthemums are the symbol of death, and are given to mourners?"

Cressie watched as the blood drained from Mr Jem's face. She felt a great deal of sympathy as she presumed that he had selected the blooms for their beauty alone. She had never known her mother to be cruel, but she felt that Mrs Martin was deliberately trying to make Mr Jem feel uncomfortable.

"Oh ... I ... uh ... I meant no offence," stammered Mr Jem.

Mrs Martin offered him a small smile. "Of course not. Nelly, would you put these in some water by the flowers from Mr Delaney? Thank you," she said, as their servant collected the bouquet.

"Won't you sit down?" Cressie asked him, motioning to the settee. She took a seat herself and Mr Jem quickly crossed the small room to join her. Cressie felt an immediate need to bring Mr Jem's smile back.

"I hope I am not being rude. I didn't know I was supposed to ask," he told her quietly. "It seems silly now that I say it out loud, but my sister told me that I should have asked if I would be welcome to call upon you today."

"You are forgiven, Mr Denham," called Mrs Martin. "Cressie's suitor has already been this morning. You have not interrupted."

A flash of emotion crossed Mr Jem's face before he composed himself. Cressie wanted to tell him, and her mother, that she did not consider Mr Delaney a suitor, but she knew that she would be chastised for speaking inappropriately.

"My sister told me that flowers are customary gifts. I ... I thought the white ones were nice. I've never even heard of chrysanthemums."

Cressie's eyes flicked to her mother. Mrs Martin was pretending to embroider, but her eyes were down. She leant in closer. "They are nice. Mourners on the Continent have excellent taste."

Cressie felt a spark of glee when a smile teased the side of Mr Jem's lips. "I appreciate your grace, Miss Martin. It well and truly makes up for my lacking in that arena."

Cressie had but one thought, and it was again of a fawn.

"Grace told me I ought to bring two bouquets, but I thought you might like this a little more," Mr Jem continued, bringing the velvet back into his lap. Cressie's curiosity was piqued.

"How kind of you to bring a gift for Cressida," Mrs Martin called over to them. "She is a modest young lady. I hope you did not spend a fortune. Did you?"

Cressie shuddered at her mother's tactless way of inquiring after Mr Jem's finances. That was what she was doing, was it not? Was it not rude to ask after the value of a gift?

"On the contrary, Mrs Martin, this did not cost me a penny," Mr Jem replied.

"Oh, how terribly savvy of you," replied Mrs Martin. "Though, I am certain, as the brother of the duchess, you would have vendors chomping at the bit for your business." She laughed, but she was still fishing shamelessly.

Mr Jem shook his head rather uncomfortably. "My sister and brother-in-law rarely frequent London. This is my first time to Town. I do not think any vendor would have a clue who I was."

"Mama!" Cressie said firmly, giving her mother a frustrated glare. Did not Mrs Martin realise she was being rude to a guest?

Mrs Martin acquiesced, and went back to faking her embroidery.

"It really did not cost me anything ... does that matter?" Mr Jem wondered as he loosened the strings on the bag.

"No!" promised Cressie.

The small smile that had appeared on Mr Jem's lips a moment ago increased, and Cressie mirrored his happy expression.

"I turned eighteen a little while ago. My sister-in-law, Belle, gifted this to me for my birthday. I loved it, I love it, but I think you will love it more." Mr Jem put his hand into the bag and withdrew a rather remarkable object. "It is a conch shell," he informed her. "Belle collected it on a beach and brought it back from a country called Haiti in the Caribbean."

The shell itself was a glorious pale orange colour, covered in little black markings and natural bumps and spikes, twisting over itself to protect its glistening pink interior.

Cressie audibly gasped at the beautiful shell and was entirely mesmerised by the fact that this glorious object had been found on a beach and had touched the sea.

Mr Jem placed the shell into Cressie's hands. She immediately ran her fingers over the rough texture of the outside, before feeling the shiny, smooth texture on the inside.

"I remember you told me that you longed to swim in the ocean," Mr Jem continued, and in that moment, Cressie did not care that her mother had heard her fanciful dream. "Did you know that shells are magical?"

"Magical?" repeated Cressie.

"Place it to your ear," he encouraged.

Cressie immediately obeyed him and placed the cold shell to her right ear. Immediately she was overwhelmed by the whooshing sounds that she could hear. It was as though there was a storm inside of the shell! She pulled it away quickly to ensure that the weather had not turned, before she placed the shell back to her ear, and sure enough, she heard it again.

"It's the ocean," Mr Jem explained. "What you hear is the sea, where this shell has come from. I thought ... I thought it might help you to imagine what it would be like to swim in the sea, to tide you over until you can do it in reality."

Cressie stared at Mr Jem, her mouth wide open in utter amazement, as tears began to roll down her cheeks. 

----

Oh, Jemmy, you romantic boy you. I promise, if you panic propose again it will all go well and you'll live happily ever after with no drama because your author is a lovely and kind person who wants to wrap this story up at Chapter 7. 

*sigh* I'm sorry, mate. Brace yourselves, the both of you ... and all of you, too!

I'm BAAAAAAACKKKKKKK!!! And tanned if you can believe it! 

I spent the last week in Hawaii and it was amazing! Such a beautiful place!! I adore visiting places I've never been and learning as much as I can. I spent a week in Oahu and pretty much covered the whole island. I refused to stay put in Waikiki! I went everywhere. AND I EVEN DROVE ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD IN THE WRONG SIDE OF THE CAR!!!

You guys, I cannot tell you how freaky that was. But getting home and driving back on the left, all was right in the world hahaha. 

The people were so nice! Everyone was lovely, and I could not believe the service (which I suppose is sparked out of tipping culture!). Even the lady in the Maccas drive thru was like "Good morning, Happy Easter!" whereas you don't get that here. (Former Maccas employee here!)

I was so panicked about tipping. We don't tip in Australia. We're fortunate that our minimum wage negates the need, even though we could all do with a pay rise. I was so conscious of appearing rude that I think I overtipped lol. 

Everyone was seriously so lovely, though. The nicest people. Except for one lady at the Waikiki McDonald's who looked at me like I was stupid for asking for a small cheeseburger meal, and she barked at me "No small, only medium or large." So I said medium (which is the size of our large lol) --- BY THE WAY?! Did you know the cheeseburger meals comes with two burgers? I tried to give one back and she said it's part of the meal. I felt bad that it went to waste. 

Another weird thing that I noticed was all the toilets are like half filled with water. Strange thing to notice lol but it's one thing that stuck out to me. 

But I had the best time. The weather was beautiful, I saw as much as I could possibly fit into a week. I went all around the Island and I went to Pearl Harbor which I've wanted to do for years. Saw the most incredibly scenery. But when it came to an end I was ready to go home. It's a long flight, but when we landed back I was so pleased to be surrounded by Aussie accents again. It's a weird thing to miss but I did! 

But another place ticked off the bucket list! 

I hope you all have had an amazing Easter, Passover, or Ramadan :) Or just a fab weekend in general if you're not celebrating.

Vote and comment!