Caroline, I used to act so strong
but I was just terrified
I feel it in my stomach, call 'em butterflies
there's something in the air tonight
4th July, 1890 — Sanditon Soiree

He had meant to speak to her sooner, but what with all the forced sets of dancing with near-strangers, the evening was in full swing before he had found a moment to meet her outside for some semblance of privacy. “Miss Delaney,” Evander said, forgetting himself in a burst of nerves. “- Caroline.”

For etiquette’s sake, he ought to have begun with the usual pleasantries, he knew - a question or two on how her evening had been thus far, on whether she had enjoyed her dances - but he had already been dwelling on the arrival of this moment for so long that, for his own sanity, he couldn’t drag it out any longer.

“I’ve undertaken some correspondence since that conversation of ours,” he explained, perhaps a little coy, but in no doubt she would understand perfectly what this meant. “And I received this letter from Boston yesterday.” He shrugged it out from the inside pocket of his jacket, having had some irrational fear that it would fall out and into prying hands before he had had a chance to tell her. He would have waited another day or two to call on her at home, if only these sort of conversations didn’t look so much more irrationally imposing in the stark cold light of morning.

No, but conversations with Caroline in this setting were almost comfortable now, so he would manage. Tonight the air outside was just as warm - a little too warm - but the ballroom lights gave a softer glow through the windows, the noise equally muted. Even a smattering of stars were visible, and the background rushing of the waves did not quite ruin the scene as Evander had expected.

He passed her the letter from her father to read for herself, trying not to smile too early. (Nevertheless, unlike some disastrous people - cough, Alfred, cough - he preferred to have permission to proceed.)

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   Charity Lloyd, Freya Selwyn

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It had been nearly a month since Caroline had last seen Mr. Darrow. Their letters had continued as always, but he never even hinted at what they had spoken of that last evening. She’d done everything in her power to be patient, attending parties and balls with a frivolous abandon as if she didn’t care a whit that Mr. Darrow wasn’t there. But tonight, no matter how hard she tried to make it seem like she didn’t care, no matter how many other men were on her dance card, she couldn’t help her gaze seeking for Mr. Darrow.

When at last he approached her stomach was knotted in such a manner that she was nearly beside herself. Caroline let herself be led outside, where the salty air of the ocean breeze reassured her more then anything.

This was it. She was sure it. The moment that would determine her fate. She had done everything she could to steer it, but now she could only hope a storm hadn’t set it off in another direction.

Her name, her formal name, on his lips was enough to concern her. Before he spoke her Christian name. It was like the waves on the beach, this nervousness she felt. One moment fear and the next excitement. “Mr. Darrow.” She murmured politely, keeping her face as calm as a placid lake, rather than a stormy ocean she felt.

His next words though caused Caroline to draw a breathe in, almost forgetting to breathe altogether. “Oh.” Even to her her voice seemed quiet and unsure. It seemed Mr. Darrow’s attentions had been entirely what she hoped and now the matter lay with her father. Or rather, in Mr. Darrow’s own hand as he drew out the letter. Even in this light she could recognize her father’s hand writing.

Caroline’s fingers were shaking slightly as she took the letter from him, her eyes rather fixed on him for some clue of the contents, it was unsealed so it was safe to say he already knew. Was that a slight lift of his lips or merely her imagination.

Looking down at the letter in her hand she read, carefully following her father’s handwriting across the note. Oh. Oh! A gloved hand came up to Caroline’s mouth in surprise. Until this moment she had half expected her father to say no. After all she had come here for a better match, not merely a suitable one. But her father, it seemed held no opposition to the couple.

Looking up from the letter Caroline sought Mr. Darrow’s gaze. They had her father’s permission, but the decision still lay with Mr. Darrow. She certainly hoped he didn’t believe this would count for a proposal. “I see.” She said softly, excitement winning over her nerves, a smile playing on her lips as she fought to remain composed until he could actually ask her what they had been dancing around all these months.

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   Freya Selwyn

He had read the letter enough times in the past day to be quite certain of what it said and yet as soon as it was out of his hands Evander found himself genuinely panicked that he had hallucinated the whole thing, and that he had misread one thing for another.

In any case, even the letter did not make it a sure thing, because there was every possibility that, just as he had spent the last month convincing himself of this step, she had talked herself out of it. She certainly felt something, judging by the gasp, but until she smiled at its finish he had had his doubts.

But she had spurred on the whole affair, so perhaps he ought to afford himself a little safety in her answer. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards expectantly again, trying to recall the exact wording of the sentence as he had mentally rehearsed it earlier. “So, I suppose all that remains is your final verdict on the matter,” Evander said, meeting her eyes and feeling rather as though his fate was in her hands now, with nothing else to be done for it, “and I dearly hope it is still the same as it was.” He had meant to say rather more on the subject to convince her, but with the rush of adrenaline all he actually managed was taking one of her gloved hands into his again. “Would you do me the very great honour of allowing me to court you, Caroline?”

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   Charity Lloyd, Freya Selwyn

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Final verdict on the matter did seem rather dry, didn’t it? If it hadn’t been for the small smile on his lips Caroline wouldn’t have been certain they were discussing the same thing but perhaps instead a legal matter. But she had come to realize this was much Mr. Darrow’s way and as such she waited for him to continue on. Although, it had to be said, that she could hardly contain her excitement for his winding path to the question at hand.

The grin she had been suppressing broke free when she felt his hand on her own. It was a comforting warmth and strength and said more then he could imagine. She had spent the whole month wondering if he still felt the same, it seemed so had he, so much so that the simple gesture of a clasped hand was almost enough for her. Almost.

The actual question finally fell between them and Caroline felt lightened, the worries lifting to free her spirit. The grin that had already formed on her lips grew larger, “Yes!” The words were slightly louder than she had hoped, slightly more enthusiastic, much less composed than she might have hoped. But the joy she felt allowed the slip. “I should be so very happy, Mr. Darrow.” Caroline added, composing herself, well rather her voice, if not the foolish grin that was surely plastered over her face.

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   Evander Darrow, Freya Selwyn

There was no doubt whatsoever in her answer, nor in the keenness with which she said it; Evander could not help feeling more flattered than he ever had, and indeed more fortunate than he ever recalled. So very happy, she said, and although he suspected it was an American’s way more than anyone’s to exaggerate, he also had the nagging suspicion that, in her candour, she really did like him.

Quite miraculous, really. Although he was trying ever so hard to keep to his usual manners, the sedateness and sternness, it was far more difficult to keep such things in check when his heart was racing a mile a minute and nearly all she had said was yes! Perhaps it was in her smile, too, wider and more guileless than what he had been accustomed to seeing on her face. He would say it made her look even younger than she was, but then he would also have to admit how much younger he felt at this moment too, equally unprepared for whatever changes they had now invited in.

He scarcely knew how to broach any of that, and for another moment just drank in the sight of her. One change was easy to implement, of course, and probably already overdue. He tried and failed to stifle a chuckle, feeling lighter than he had in months already. “Then I really think you should call me Evander,” he protested, almost teasing, “for I will feel a fool calling you Caroline if you don’t.”

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   Freya Selwyn

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During her acquaintance with Mr. Darrow, Caroline had learned how rare it was to hear a laugh or chuckle from him. Indeed when she did seem him she had made it rather a goal of her’s to make him laugh. And here he was now chuckling. It only made her happier.

Evander. Caroline tried the word in her mind, rolling it over. It seemed odd to think of him as Evander when she was so use to calling him Mr. Darrow. A name that suited the sternness and solitude she associated with him. Evander seemed soft and hinted at those moments they had shared when he didn’t seem nearly as stern as he made himself out to be.

“I shall hate to have you feel a fool,” Caroline agreed, her tone playful, adding, “Evander.” She squeezed his hand as she took a step forward, tilting her head upward. If Mr. Darrow - no, Evander - was anything like the men she had known he would try to steal a kiss, one that Caroline would gladly allow him, but it was Evander. She doubted he would think such a thing gentlemanly, but she didn’t want him to think she wouldn’t welcome such an action. The least she could do was make it easier for him.

  

It was only as he heard his name on her lips that Evander realised how rare it was to be known as anything other than Mr. Darrow. Nowadays Alfred and Charity were all he had left to use Evander (...and somehow, funnily enough, Uncle Evander didn’t quite have the same ring as Caroline Delaney calling him Evander did right now). So it would take some getting used to.

Everything would. But he would be lying if he pretended he didn’t want to hear her say his name a few times more, if he didn’t want... Well, she had taken a step closer and he couldn’t miss the tilt of her chin. Aloof, maybe, but he wasn’t blind. Without being entirely aware of himself, Evander found his empty hand had lifted towards her face, as if to cup her cheek. But his thumb only traced the briefest, ghosting line there before dropping away, his gaze pulling from her mouth to glance back at where they’d come from, upon the very real chance that someone was looking, that they were no longer alone.

He felt himself swallow, was sure his cheeks were warm, didn’t know if that had been a poor excuse - but it wouldn’t do, not here, not now. He didn’t know when or where there would ever be more opportunity (even if they were ever to be in a private parlour, there would always be someone to chaperone her), but this was still a public ball and a public resort, and - especially before word had gotten out that they were courting now! - it was hardly an appropriate risk to take. (That was the thing about risks, really. They were so rarely appropriate.)

He didn’t want to ruin it. Evander hastily cleared his throat against the gnawing feeling that maybe he had ruined it nevertheless, and blurted out something, anything, just to fill the air. “I admit I was almost worried I was too late,” he said, feigning lightness and a joking air, as much he could whilst being by no means well-practised at it, “and that you might have found some other prospect tonight amongst your dance partners!”

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   Caroline Darrow, Freya Selwyn

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The mere brush of Evander's thumb against her cheek made Caroline's heart miss a beat altogether. But all too soon he had pulled away, glancing at the doors of the ballroom. It was a keen disappoint that Caroline felt, having always been able to charm men into such an action and now the man who wished to court her she couldn't even entice to kiss her! Was it only British men who were so very aware of doing the proper thing instead of the right thing? More ruled by their mind for manners then their hearts? But that glance behind them.... it dawned on Caroline that Evander was probably trying to protect her! Unlike the other men she had met before he genuinely seemed to care for her future well being and not only the here and now. The thought comforted her and she smiled gently at Evander to make her graditute known.

Despite the jest Caroline could hear some worry in Evander's tone and she laughed lightly. "Truthfully, it was a close call. I felt certain Mr. Wells was about to propose on the spot after our gaviotte." Caroline teased merrily, brushing away the comment with her spare hand.

She fixed her gaze on him though and added more softly, and seriously, "I was waiting for the right man though." There, the truth was out, lingering between them like the flush that had bloomed on her cheeks.

  

The way she smiled... And now, quite merrily, she was making fun of him. A joke at his expense could often be more than enough to shut him down and close him off to a conversation; it might often have burrowed into the back of his mind and gnawed at him for weeks. But her light-humoured jest had done nothing of the kind: Evander could see perfectly well that she didn’t mean it... and that if she took the idea for ridiculousness then she really must quite like him.

In spite of himself, his smile spread a little wider, slipped into a laugh. He knew he was being a slow study here, but it did not hurt to have her spell it out in these assurances; each time she did he was sure he recognised the honesty in her tone, a clear spark of it underneath her pretty charisma and practised charm. She was far braver in speaking plainly than he was, Evander could see that, but now he felt he must owe her something in return, something to please her with more than the facts she already knew, that she was an exemplary example of a debutante, and made a fine prospect for any man.

“I hope you left a little room on your card for him, then,” Evander said, deceptively casual - in case anyone else out on the terrace was listening in, still doing his best to fight his own reticence - “for I have it on good authority that you are perhaps the only reason he comes to this sort of thing at all.” That was true. He scarcely liked dancing at all, to be perfectly honest, but if it were anything like letter-writing or dinner-conversation, firework-watching or indeed boggart-dispelling, it would probably be more pleasant with her.

With that admission, the last of the bashfulness dissipated as he held her gaze again, the smile lingering in his eyes. “I had meant to call on you tomorrow, really,” he admitted, gesturing at her father’s letter, “to do this quite properly. But I’m afraid I just couldn’t wait.”

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   Eloise Scrimgeour

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"Am I now?" Caroline easily affected surprise, a laugh bubbling into her words. "Then it is a good thing I have saved him a dance after all." The lightness of Evander's tone was enough to surprise Caroline, but so too were his words. She had always wondered if he actually enjoyed such events and had often suspected that perhaps he didn't. But to hear such assumptions come to light, to realize even among light heartedness that Evander came to events simply because of her? Well it was enough to make her feel quite assured in this change of their circumstances.

All too quickly the seriousness she had come to expect of Evander stole across his face. But this time it was different, there was an earnestness in his words that made all too conscious of her own joy. His hand still held her own, and she clasped it with her other gloved hand. "I'm glad you didn't wait." She looked up at him, willing him to understand that such an action meant more to her than any social call in the parlor of the Delaney Townhouse might. The fact that he couldn't wait spoke even more of the depth of his feelings, a depth that so clearly ran as deep as her own.

  

Her other hand coming to rest on his was assurance enough, made it as tangible to him as the cumulative power of her words and laughs and glances. If he had expected the restlessness of his nerves to be settled somewhat in his stomach now that he had secured her agreement, now that they were to be formally on the same page, as it were... well, he would be wrong. The feelings were no more subdued now. If these were butterflies in his stomach, they may as well stay for supper - and perhaps breakfast too; perhaps even make their home there - because they did not seem inclined to leave him be.

“So am I,” he agreed, mouth dipping into another brief smile. If he hadn’t gotten it over with, he suspected the stress of it would not have let him sleep. “Still, I’d better bring you back inside, before you miss all the rest of the evening’s dances.” (Besides the dance she could grant him, Evander had little care for rejoining the party now, but such was expectation.)

He let go of her hand now so as not to permit himself to dawdle much longer, but as he offered her his arm Evander cast another look at her, for once not needing to dread the answer. “But if you have no objections, I hope I might still call on you next week?” See: what a marvel. How easy it would be to spend more time with her now; to get to know her a little better; to find their feet before having to make any grand changes. What could possibly go wrong? Now that they were courting, it might all just be smooth sailing from here.

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Caroline wished she could pout like a small child denied a sweet when he told her they should return. But it was the sensible thing to do. She knew that. Knew that he was looking out for them by ending their meeting like this. Giving his hand one last gentle squeeze, he allowed him to place her hand on his arm. "There's only one I'm looking forward to." She told him earnestly.

"I should like that very much." No longer would they need to coordinate events to attend at the same time, feverish letters sent in a flurry of anticipation to see what events each who attend. Instead it would be replaced with the simple anticipation of looking forward to simply seeing Evander without all the planning.