Did no one else see Grace turn pale? Her eyes darted from one person to the next, never settling long enough to do more than give a brief greeting. She conversed deeply with no one, though she spoke to everyone who addressed her.
“Ah, Miss Everly has come after all.”
Jacob glanced at Miss Hannah Keyes, one of the neighborhood flirts, standing at his side. She posed no threat to him, thankfully. Miss Keyes kept her sights set on much higher marks than a vicar. “Is that a surprise, Miss Keyes?” he asked, his stance remaining relaxed.
“Lady Olivia is in the very next room,” Miss Keyes reminded him, nodding to the open doorway where conversation was more the thing than cards. “I should think even the brazen Miss Everly might be more sensitive to the fact that she nearly killed someone not even a week past.”
“Are people to be punished for accidents?” Jacob asked, trying to sound curious rather than offended by the idea. Inwardly, he repeated verses in Ephesians. Walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye are called, with all lowliness and meekness, with long-suffering, forbearing one another in love. Miss Keyes often brought out impatience in him. “It was my understanding that Lord Neil and Lady Olivia were also racing their phaeton.”
The blonde beauty arched her delicate eyebrows at him and flicked open her fan. “I should have known better than to offer criticism of an Everly to you, Mr. Barnes. Everyone knows you are fairly wrapped up in their ribbons.” A false, airy laugh floated from her while Jacob fought down the urge to answer her remark with a flippant word of his own.
“I have always been a friend to that family,” he answered as mildly as possible. “Though I believe I would defend all my neighbors from undue censure, Miss Keyes.”
“I am certain you would.” She gave her fan another outward flick, the smirk never leaving her lips. “But one does wonder, at least when it comes to the Everly set, which young lady it is you favor. After all, they cannot go on sharing everything, can they?” She tossed her head and floated away, her graceful movements reminding him more of a slithering snake than anything else. She had been such a pleasant child but turned into one of the most conniving women of his acquaintance as she grew into womanhood.
Jacob’s irritation made it difficult to remain standing still in the corner. He drifted around the edge of the room, conversing with neighbors, and trying to ignore Grace. The feat proved impossible, as no matter where he stood he remained aware of her and the knot of people around her.
Mindful that he could not avoid her forever, especially since everyone knew of his friendship with Hope and Grace, Jacob finally made his way to her side.
“Really, Miss Everly, you are not at all yourself this evening. I expected you would be as amused as I at the very idea of a boat race.” Miss Johnson, a young woman who kept company more often with Hannah Keyes than the Everlys, peered at Grace strangely.
Perhaps he ought to intervene. Grace’s cheeks had turned pale and she lowered her eyes in a most self-conscious and un-Hope-like manner.
“Oh, la. Perhaps we have reason to rejoice.” Lady Olivia appeared and the gaggle of ladies around Grace parted, giving the earl’s daughter a clear view of Grace.
Jacob moved around the women, coming to stand directly behind Grace. She turned her head enough that he knew she had seen him. Good. Then she knew she did not stand alone under whatever onslaught Lady Olivia had prepared.
“Whatever do you mean, Lady Olivia?” Miss Johnson asked, her eyes comically round.
Lady Olivia, dressed in greens and golds, looked like a strutting peacock when she lifted her chin. “I only meant that it would be a fortunate thing if Miss Everly gives up her fondness for racing. My poor brother remains at home this evening, nursing his wounds from the last time Miss Everly took up her favorite sport.”
From where Jacob stood, he saw the back of Grace’s neck turn red, along with the tips of her ears. Always, she suffered for Hope’s decisions, whether it was the race itself or being held to account for something her sister had done.
He stepped forward, putting his hand on Grace’s elbow. “I am certain Lord Neil is grateful that he took the brunt of the punishment that day.” Jacob somehow managed to sound admiring rather than annoyed. “He would not have wanted any of you ladies injured in such a folly as a pony and cart race. I hear he bears it most bravely.” He had not heard any such thing and, if he knew Lord Neil at all, the man likely complained of his broken arm to anyone within hearing distance. “Now you ladies must permit me to steal Miss Everly away. She has promised to be my card partner this evening.”
Lady Olivia’s smug smirk had turned into a frown, doubtless sensing an insult to her brother though none had actually been made. Grace’s hand slid onto Jacob’s arm, and he immediately forgot about the other women present.
All that mattered was seeing to Grace.
After he led her away, and into the card room, he bent close to her ear. “I did not think you would come out in society.”
“Papa thought I had been punished suitably and rather insisted upon it.” She barely raised her voice enough to be heard. “Jacob, what am I going to do?” she asked, her tone plaintive even if her expression was calm.
Though he had no wish to help in her ruse, Jacob could not bear to see Grace in such distress. Thankfully, an alternative to helping her lie existed. The Greenfield cousins did not know Hope or Grace. “Come with me.”
The cousins visiting, Eugene and Jemima Standish, were a married couple about Jacob’s age. And they stood near an unoccupied card table.
Grace came with him, her expression most serious and then relieved when they stood before the strangers.
“Mr. Standish, Mrs. Standish, I should like to introduce my friend to you. This is Miss Everly.” That would be Grace’s title honestly enough in the absence of her elder sister.
“How do you do,” Grace murmured with her curtsy.
“Very well, indeed,” Mrs. Standish answered. “Everyone has been so friendly this evening. I do so love parties.”
“And being the guests of honor is always satisfying,” her husband added with a teasing glance to his wife. “Tell me, Miss Everly, what do you think of living so near the sea? I am convinced it must make life much more pleasing than living in the center of a crowded city.”
They exchanged thoughts on conditions in London against Aldersy’s quieter ways, and Grace relaxed beside Jacob. The tension left her face, the blush faded, and the hand upon his loosened its grip. As they stood next to the empty table, the conversation naturally turned to playing a game of Whist together.
Jacob helped Grace into her seat, then moved across from her. She and Mrs. Standish conversed with ease, even after they each had a handful of cards to see to. Grace naturally fell into her own habits, quieter and more contemplative than Hope might be, and more willing to listen to the stories of others than tell her own.
"Mr. Barnes, when we were introduced, you said you were about to take up the position of local vicar, did you not?” Mr. Standish asked as he played. The ladies quieted their talk to turn to Jacob, Mrs. Standish with eyebrows raised. Grace regarded him with her usual gentle smile.
“I am.” He rearranged his hand after scowling at his cards a moment. “I look forward to my first day of sermonizing perhaps more than the community does.”
“Do you think it might prove a struggle, to be in such a position over people who have known you since childhood?” Mr. Standish asked. “Will they hold you in high regard, as befits a vicar? Or will they only see the person you have always been before?”
Mrs. Standish leaned forward slightly. “Oh, that is a good question. I had not thought on that.”
As Jacob had often wrestled with that very thought, he could at least answer it honestly and without hesitation. “I am certain it will be difficult for some, but with a little time they will grow accustomed to me in that position.”
Without raising her eyes from her cards, Grace spoke quietly. “It helps that Mr. Barnes has al
ways held himself to a high moral standard. I cannot think of a single incident after he started school that might offend anyone. He is kind to others, too. His character is what every good man’s ought to be.” She laid down her next card and raised her gaze to meet his, her blue eyes sparkling at him. “I believe we have won this round.”
“Bad form, winning against a married couple.” Mrs. Standish giggled and marked their point on the slate for keeping score. “Eugene, you simply must learn how to signal me better if we are to win.”
Though they all laughed, and dealt the next hand, Jacob’s mind stayed on what Grace had said. He caught her eye again as he put down his first card and the tender look she cast him was the visual equivalent of her gentle praise. She had never spoken of his character like that before, at least within his hearing. That she held him in such esteem humbled him. There could not be a truer friend in his life than Grace.
Chapter 9
The previous evening’s card party, though begun with difficulty, Grace counted as a success. She spent most of her time in company with the Standishes and Jacob. Her father, never one to stay out late, had found them when he wanted to return home and had enough of a pleasant evening himself that he suggested Jacob and Grace go riding the next day.
“Hope needs more exercise than that pacing she does,” her father had said with an affectionate sigh.
For the first time since the disastrous accident, Grace fell into bed with hopes for a good night’s rest. But as her eyelids grew heavy, and her breathing deeper, a most unwanted thought tickled at her mind.
Why had Papa suggested that she and Jacob go for a ride? The party was one thing, but seemingly doing away with the punishment for Hope’s misbehavior all together struck her as odd. Unless her father had another motive.
Perhaps he wanted Jacob to be a more steadying influence upon Hope? He often lamented that Grace could not temper her sister fully. Did he think a future vicar had a better chance of such a thing? While that made a little sense, she kept poking at the thought with dissatisfaction. Jacob had always been a steady influence on his friends, but never Hope. There must be something else behind her father’s suggestion.
Grace tossed about in her bed for a time before the answer came.
Papa had never played at matchmaking before, but he as good as told the twins he wanted them both married, and soon, before the trip to the West Indies had even presented itself. Truly, the pressure had been mounting for quite some time. Insisting “Hope” spend time with Jacob, when he had been lecturing her for days about changing her ways, suggested that he thought Jacob Barnes might assist with that change.
The outing lost its charm as Grace laid in her sister’s bed, aware that Papa wanted Hope to settle down and marry their new vicar.
She might be wrong. But given her father’s frame of mind, his desire for Hope and Jacob to wed made perfect sense.
The night proved as restless as those that had come before it. When Grace finally climbed out of bed, she remained as tired as when she had entered it. Sitting before Hope’s dressing table, with Susan again marveling over how easily she coaxed her mistress’s hair into a stylish coiffure, all Grace saw in the mirror were the dark circles beneath her pain-filled eyes.
What made Hope such a better prospective wife than Grace?
Papa mostly ignored her at breakfast again, though with indifference rather than irritation. “How will you occupy yourself today?” He posed the question as he stood to leave the table, his newspaper folded and tucked under one arm, his spectacles in his study rather than upon his nose.
“I am not certain. I ride with Jacob in a few hours.”
Her father narrowed his eyes at her. “Try and be productive. If your sister were here, I am certain she would have any number of domestic things to see to.”
Grace agreed somewhat absently. If not for the need to act as Hope, she would have already met with Cook about preparing a special treat for her father. Hope rarely thought of such things. Yet now she had her father’s encouragement to act more naturally.
“I could speak to Cook.” She attempted to sound uncertain as she made the suggestion. “Perhaps put together a basket or two for a few families.”
“Splendid idea. Best get a move on if you are to accomplish anything before Mr. Barnes arrives.” He walked behind her chair and paused long enough to place a kiss upon her forehead. “You have all the makings of a fine lady, my Hope, if you will be attentive to the needs of others.”
Grace bit the insides of her cheeks. The softly given reprimand hadn’t really been given to her, after all. With her father gone, Grace threw away caution and added three of her favorite foods to her breakfast plate. Peppered eggs, a rasher of bacon, and baked apples. Hope favored sweeter foods at breakfast, but the richness of her sister’s preferred pastries made Grace’s stomach ache. With a morning ride ahead of her, she had no desire to feel as though she had swallowed mortar instead of more practical sustenance.
After eating as quickly as she could, and gulping down her cooling tea, Grace made her way to the kitchen to speak to Cook. As usual, Cook moved about her small dominion as busy as a bee. She flitted from sink to stove, hearth to table, with long steps and an air of impatience.
“Ah, Miss Everly.” She wiped her hands on her apron when she spied Grace in the doorway. “Did breakfast suit this morning, miss?”
“Yes, it was delicious. Thank you.” Grace came into the room, wondering how Hope might approach this situation. Likely with confidence, even though it was usually Grace or her mother who visited the kitchens. She tilted her chin upward and tried on one of Hope’s larger grins. “Papa is in need of some cheering. I thought you might prepare him something special.”
“Very good, miss. Will the usual do?” Cook asked, her black eyebrows raised high.
Grace nearly said yes before realizing Hope likely had no idea what treats were typically prepared. “What is it you usually prepare?”
For a moment, Cook’s lips twitched but she turned her attention to organizing vegetables upon the table. “Oh, some combination of his favorite things. Mr. Everly enjoys ham, I know him to be partial to carrot soup, and at times, likes nothing better than my buttered rolls.” She glanced at Grace from the side of her eye. “And you, miss, might choose the dessert.”
Something about Cook’s manner suggested suspicion. But how would Cook have guessed who Grace was if her own father had not noticed the switch? Perhaps Susan had shared something. If the servants had guessed her identity, why had they not said anything?
“I would enjoy your apple spice cake immensely.” That was a dessert for which she knew Hope had a special fondness. “Papa also suggested I make myself useful by putting together a charity basket or two.” There. Had she sounded reluctant enough?
Cook left the vegetables to retrieve baskets hanging near the pantry. “That’s an easy enough task. Who will they go to?”
Drat. Hope would have no idea.
“I thought I might visit the vicarage this afternoon and see if Mr. Spratt could point me in the right direction.”
With her back turned, Cook chuckled. “Sounds like a fine idea, miss.”
Grace raised her head higher and squared her shoulders. “What sort of things usually go in the baskets?”
“Oh, day old bread. Preserves and jams that ought to be eaten or put out, or any extra things we might have. Sweets for the children. Nothing too extravagant.” Cook placed the baskets on the empty end of her table. Her kitchen maid came inside, holding a basket full of herbs from the kitchen garden. Cook’s attention turned to the young woman.
With some hesitancy, Grace approached the baskets. She knew exactly how to fill them best, but Cook’s strange manner meant she must be especially on her guard. She picked up a basket and went to the pantry, biting her bottom lip and examining every jar and dried onion with perplexity.
She started putting things inside the basket, making certain fully half of her selections were not the normal
choices. She even added eggs into the basket, wincing as she did.
She took the basket back to the table. “Is this right, Cook?”
Cook came back to the table and reached for her carrots, then stopped and stared at the basket. “Miss Everly.” Shaking her head, she removed the eggs first, then the small crock of butter, and several dried onions. “Sweet child.” She said the term of endearment the way one might lament a scraped elbow. Then she darted Grace a confused look before taking the basket up in her hands. “Let me show you.”
Pleased she had erased the knowing smile from the servant’s face, Grace had to bite her tongue and remind herself to frown as she accepted the woman’s help. Whatever it was Cook had believed, Grace had thrown her off the scent.
Though Grace ought to feel guilty, as she had felt many times in the deception thus far, instead she gained confidence. The heady sensation did not dissipate quickly.
After blundering about the kitchen in search of a few things Cook asked her to gather, the baskets were finally prepared and covered. They would be put in the dogcart, which was the only vehicle Hope was permitted to drive. The little phaeton, with its broken axle and wheel, had been declared off limits to her for as long as she lived. Grace did not mind avoiding that equipage in the least.
She took herself to Hope’s room to dress for her ride with Jacob, putting on her sister’s deep purple riding habit with Susan’s help.
Hope’s penchant for bold colors irritated her anew. Not only did the deep plum of the dress stand out against nature, but Hope had added to the ensemble by requesting military epaulets and buttons upon the coat. Grace thought longingly of the forest green riding gown in her closet, with a more simple and sensible design, but kept a pleasant expression upon her face when Susan affixed the matching hat to her head.
“Pretty as a picture, miss.” Susan offered her usual compliment brightly. “What shall I lay out for you upon your return?”
“Whatever you think best.” The words slipped from Grace without her permission, or her clear thought. Hope always had an opinion on what to wear.
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