He nodded. “Yes, Nina. She’s twenty-five.”
“What does she do for fun?”
He frowned, thinking about it. “Well, she just got married last year. I think she had a lot of fun planning that. She lives in England, now. But she likes to read, which,” he bowed briefly to her, “I know you like to do also.” She nodded and he continued, “She’s quite accomplished at needlepoint and spinning, and I think she gets a bit of enjoyment from those. And she writes that she meets with friends for tea and gossip fairly often.” His lips quirked as he looked at Casey and the politely interested expression she wore. “She is also an accomplished horsewoman, and plays golf and tennis.”
“Ah! Golf and tennis. And riding? Well, that all sounds enjoyable,” Casey said. “I just had no idea what women did for fun in this time.”
He looked cross, a corner of his mouth curling up to show he was teasing. “You truly must socialize more.”
“Well there’s no doubt about that,” she replied. “And perhaps work on shedding some of my preconceived notions. Can women play cricket?”
“Oh, goodness!” He groaned. “Of course they don’t play cricket, that’s much too rough!”
She stopped walking and looked at him, pouting. “My best friend was on the women’s varsity cricket team at Queen’s.”
He stared at her, speechless. He played cricket, and it was not a game for women.
Casey waved a hand at him. “Tom? You can breathe, now.”
He blinked. “Women’s varsity cricket? Real cricket?” She nodded. “Do you play?” he asked her.
“Not on a team. I like to jump around and have fun, but it turns out I’m not real competitive. I always want everyone to just get along.”
That made him laugh. “I can just imagine.”
“What about football?” Casey asked suddenly.
“You mean, women playing football?” Tom shook his head. “Young girls play when they are still in school. Not after, I’m afraid.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not like there’s a law or anything against it. I guess it’s just not considered ladylike.”
“Ladylike? Oh my god, the dreaded word!”
He laughed, but felt contrite. “I’m sorry, Casey. School girls can and do play these games among themselves, but any sport a lady plays is done in a sedate manner. Ladylike, if you will.”
“But why? And what about tennis? You said your sister played tennis. That’s not sedate.”
“It is when ladies play it. I’ve seen them.”
“Oh brother.” She put her head in her hands. “I guess I can’t lose all my preconceived notions, after all.”
“You know, girls are quite active as children,” he told her. “They play along with the boys all the time. My sister had four brothers and we were merciless with her. And she never had any trouble keeping up. But about thirteen or fourteen years of age, she stopped. Mother may have encouraged her, but I think that’s when she first noticed boys other than her brothers.”
“Ah,” Casey said, “the biggest game of all.”
He tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Exactly.”
“But Tom, you’re, what, thirty-four?” He nodded. “And you still play cricket and go hunting or fishing for fun. I’ve heard you talk about that.”
“Certainly. Not as much as I’d like of course, because of work, but certainly.”
“So in this society, men can continue to play like boys well into their thirties, and the girls, at quite young ages, take up needlepoint.” Her raised eyebrows indicated he could take it as a question.
He rubbed his mouth to hide a smile, aware of the trap he’d walked into. “Now,” he pointed out, “I may not be the right person to ask, but I always assumed girls did that because they wanted to. Some kind of domesticity desire kicking in or something.” He gestured helplessly. “I don’t really know. Boys are sent off to school and the girls stay at home, or attend a local school with other girls. We really don’t see them much, at least not socially, until they come out, but I have several female cousins and, of course, I knew sisters of my friends. And at that age, the girls mostly sat in groups and giggled. They wouldn’t have played football with us if we’d begged them.”
Casey just shook her head in consternation.
“So girls in your generation don’t do that?” he asked.
“Oh for heaven’s sake, of course they do!” she said. “But we don’t have to give up the games and running around. We can keep playing as long as we’re able, same as the guys. And why not? It’s healthy to keep active.”
“So does no one learn needlepoint, anymore? It does make things attractive and many clans in Ireland are fiercely proud of their patterns.”
She hesitated. “They do if they’re interested in it as a hobby, but for the most part, no one does that kind of thing anymore. Needlepoint is done by machine and outsourced to wherever labor is cheapest. Anything homemade, especially by a clan in Ireland, is going to take top dollar.”
“So we lose art to progress, is that what you’re saying? But it frees everyone up to play football.”
She nodded. “Sort of. Although it’s more like people are freed up to do whatever interests them.”
She paused as they rounded a corner, and her eyes wandered off the path and to the small oak tree on the side. Tom watched as she moved, as if dazed, to stand next to it, one hand tentatively touching the young branches, the top of the tree just reaching her waist. He followed behind her. Her voice was so soft, he had to lean in, not daring to breathe. “I used to come here all the time at first.” He watched her hand caress the bark, her mind a million miles away. Or a hundred years. “I would look around and try to remember what the park and city looked like before. Then I started working for you and I didn’t have time to come anymore.” She brought the hand to her face, wiping away a tear and shaking her head slowly. “I can’t picture it, now. I’m forgetting.”
He touched her back, gently, so that she hardly felt it. “It does no one good to cling to what we can’t have, Casey. There’s nothing wrong with moving on.”
She blinked and looked up him, serious as she searched his face. He was relieved when she smiled a little. “I know. I may need to be reminded occasionally.”
He gripped her shoulders. “I’m sorry that it’s been hard for you, here. I try to imagine what it would be like for me, to suddenly find myself in 1807 and have to figure out how to survive and fit in.” He shook his head. “I think you’ve done splendidly. I hope I can be a help to you from now on.” He touched her cheek. “You can always take off your shoes and sit on the floor when I’m around.” He smiled as she laughed at that. “And I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than take you dancing. I know of a ball we can go to tonight. Would you like to?”
He hoped she would always look at him the way she was now, eyes shining and lips trembling slightly. Was it love he saw on her face? He held his breath as she nodded, and he gave in to one more improper act: a light, quick kiss on her lips. Then he let her go and turned away, taking her arm in his again as they resumed their walk. He could tell she needed the break as much as he did.
Chapter 17
February—March 1907
Sam noted with some amusement that Casey had not yet answered his good morning, or his twice-repeated question of how her evening had gone. He had accompanied them to the dance, of course. Tom would never have taken her without a chaperone. But he’d pretty much left them on their own at the dance, which had been hosted by the Lord of something-or-other, at a grand estate on the edge of town. He’d been nervous about social interaction with this crowd, in this time. He supposed he did all right. Everyone was polite, anyway, but his concern left him with little time to actually “chaperone.” Tom and Casey had been quiet on the way home and Tom had simply shaken Sam’s hand, and kissed Casey’s, before driving off. Casey had gone straight to bed, although he’d managed to notice her dreamy expression as she said good-night.