It took a great deal of strength for Grace to get through the visit with the husband, wife, and small children of the Wright household. In every tender look the couple shared, she saw what she could not have. With the two younger children playing near their hearth, and Mrs. Wright’s hand upon her child-swollen middle, the entire scene of domestic felicity was more than she could bear.
When they took their leave at last, Jacob insisting on helping her onto the cart, Grace wanted nothing more than to bid him good day. Perhaps give in to another bout of crying. But she kept a pleasant countenance, and if Jacob noticed anything amiss, he said nothing.
His thoughts were likely too occupied with Hope to pay much attention to Grace. She clung to that thought, though its barbs pierced her heart, for the remainder of their time together that afternoon.
The dress Grace wore to Sir Isaac’s dinner party was one of Hope’s particular favorites. The yellow satin fabric was perfectly complimented by a deep purple shawl. At least, Hope had always thought the two perfect together. For Grace’s part, she much preferred softer colors to bold. Perhaps the bright colors gave her sister an added measure of confidence. Perhaps they drew the eyes of others more often, making Hope stand out as she wished.
Perhaps one of the reasons Jacob had more affection for Hope was due to her cheery wardrobe.
Grace stepped into Sir Isaac’s foyer, releasing her father’s arm to make her curtsy to her friend. Had she been herself, Grace would have shared a quiet smile with him before exchanging greetings. As Hope, she instead had to beam as though vying with the chandelier for brilliance.
“Sir Isaac.” She imitated her sister’s fond manner of speaking to their dear friend. “I am thankful you invited us, as it saved me from having to storm your home in a quest to ascertain your well-being. I have not seen you in such a long time.”
Isaac grinned back at her, his spirit as adventurous as Hope’s. “When one goes to war, it leaves a great many things undone at home. I am attempting to put everything to rights and I’ve had little time for visits. Soon, though, I should like to call upon you for one of our rambles.”
“That would be delightful.” She waited for her father to make his greetings to the host. Then she looped her arm through Papa’s and walked into the parlor off the dining room. Isaac’s mother had been the last woman to decorate the house, which meant a great many of the rooms were out of date in terms of fashion. The familiar pink and gold furnishings did something to steady Grace’s nerves, however, so she could not think ill of them.
Mr. and Mrs. Parr were present, with their daughter, Miss Bettina Parr, newly come out. Although not part of Miss Parr’s set, to see another young lady present gave Grace leave to relax. In fact, since Miss Parr did not know Grace or Hope particularly well, that gave Grace more room to make mistakes.
She had barely exchanged greetings with the Parrs when the Barnes entered the room, followed by Isaac. Mrs. Barnes, tall and stately, floated gracefully into the room. Matthew Barnes, the head of the family, escorted his mother with easy confidence. Then came Miss Elizabeth Barnes on Jacob’s arm, her sister Mary behind them.
Jacob. He cut a fine figure in his dark blue waistcoat, a pristine white cravat at his throat. When she met his eyes, he winked.
Her heart stammered and stuttered, though her mind immediately berated it. The wink was naught more than a friendly offer of support, meant to bolster her confidence. Still, she had to turn away to keep her composure.
Nothing about the ruse she acted out met with Jacob’s approval. Not really. Believing that Hope had orchestrated the entire switch was the only reason he had ceased to speak against the plan. Had he known Grace was behind it, he surely wouldn’t look upon her with any measure of friendliness or offer support.
Isaac drew Matthew and Jacob into conversation, speaking with them on a matter regarding the vicarage. Mrs. Barnes drifted away from her sons, but rather than go to the other matron in the room, she came across the carpet to where Grace stood with her father.
“Mr. Everly, Miss Everly, I am delighted to see you both. I understand Mrs. Everly is away visiting her sister?” She looked from one to the other with a genteel smile. The two women had been friends for many years. “You must miss her, given Miss Grace’s absence, and the children away at school.”
“We do, Mrs. Barnes.” Papa sighed deeply. “The house is far too quiet of late. Occasionally, I fancy stomping through the passageways merely to make some noise.”
“Ah, I understand. I have felt that way a time or two myself. It is somewhat distressing to know Jacob will be out of our home soon, though I know he looks forward to taking up his place at the vicarage.”
Grace’s eyes drifted to where Jacob stood, admiring the broad grin he wore as he spoke with animation to his brother and Isaac. He said something she could not hear and the two men laughed. Jacob’s head turned in her direction and she swiftly dropped her gaze, as she had been doing for months, so he would not know she gave him any more attention than she ought.
When she attempted to return her focus to Mrs. Barnes, her gaze collided with the older woman’s piercing stare. Mrs. Barnes raised an eyebrow at her. “And you, Miss Everly. Do you miss your sister?”
“Terr—” She broke off and cleared her throat when her voice emerged hoarse. “Yes. Terribly.”
“Hope has born the separation better than I thought she might.” Pride tinted Papa’s words.
Guilt wormed its way further into her heart. All that pride would evaporate the moment he knew the truth. Yet she would not tell him until she absolutely must. She would not take Hope’s place aboard that ship, and until she knew her sister successfully made it out of port, she mustn’t say anything.
The butler came into the room, announcing dinner. The men and women fell into place, each by order of importance, by marital state, by age. Grace went before the other unmarried misses, on Mr. Parr’s arm. Jacob took up the rear with Miss Parr, as he was the only unmarried and unlanded gentleman in the party. When everyone took their chairs, the foot of the table unoccupied, Grace found herself seated directly across from Jacob.
He shared a friendly smile she had no choice but to return, and then the soup was served. Seated between Mr. Barnes and Mr. King, Grace conversed with them on the subject of horses. Though she did not know as much as Hope about the beasts, she held her own well enough.
“I have heard you are a fine horsewoman, Miss Everly.” Mr. King addressed her with polite interest. “Sir Isaac is most adamant that we go riding together while I am visiting.”
“Ah, now there is a dangerous thing,” Matthew Barnes said at her other side. “Miss Everly has had the most unfortunate luck in her races of late. The last resulted in an injury.”
Mr. King’s eyes widened. “I am sorry to hear that, Miss Everly.”
“Oh, it is not as terrible as it sounds,” Miss Parr said from across the table, soup spoon held delicately. “The local rake was the injured party.”
Grace spoke up quickly, trying to infuse her words with humor. “I think that makes it sound rather worse than before, Miss Parr.”
“The whole of the story,” Miss Barnes said from Mr. King’s other side, “is quite diverting. Miss Everly and her sister, Miss Grace, raced the son and daughter of a marquess, in phaetons pulled by ponies.” She covered her smirk with her fingertips.
“Ah, that does sound like an interesting tale.” Mr. King leaned toward Grace, over the arm of his chair. “And the gentleman, I assume, is still alive to tell his version?”
Jacob at last entered the conversation, firm voice carrying across the table. “Lord Neil is well enough.”
Miss Parr giggled and glanced at Jacob from the corner of her eye. “Mr. Jacob Barnes does not particularly care for Lord Neil.”
From up the table, Sir Isaac spoke, his manner sardonic. “Lord Neil never ran in our circle, and none of us wished him ill. Still. I have heard he is healing well and perhaps his injury will prove instructive to him.�
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A quick glance in Papa’s direction gave Grace every reason to attempt to make herself smaller. He glared at his soup in as fierce a manner as he had glared at Grace when he learned of the accident. He said nothing, and though Grace watched him, no one else seemed inclined to seek his opinion on the matter.
“I understood it was Lady Olivia who initiated the race.” Mrs. Parr joined the conversation, her tone mild. “I cannot approve of young ladies behaving in such a manner. I hope the accident curbs the desire for gently bred women to take part in such sport. It is neither safe nor seemly.”
“Miss Everly’s sister was with her,” Mr. King said, coming back to that point. “I have yet to meet her. Is she not yet out?”
“Grace is Miss Everly’s twin.” Miss Parr’s knowing smirk made her far less likable than Grace had previous supposed. “A very quiet young lady.”
Isaac put down his spoon. “Very quiet, but a particular friend of mine.” Something like a warning flashed in his eyes at Miss Parr, and her superior look dimmed. “Miss Grace has left us all behind to have an adventure. She is on her way to the West Indies with friends.”
“Indeed? I have always wanted to travel. She must be an adventurous young lady.” Mr. King’s pleasant expression fell when he saw the knowing smirk of Miss Parr return. But it was not the self-important young woman who elected to correct him.
It was Grace’s own father.
“Adventurous? Not Grace.” Papa leaned back enough to allow the footman to take his bowl and lay down a dish with the next course. “My dear girl has no liking for exploration or excitement. It is the wish of her mother and myself that she will gain some spirit from her journey. Hope is our adventurer.” He nodded to Grace and everyone at the table turned to study her, as though they had never seen her before. All except Jacob. He kept his eyes upon the dish in front of him.
What would Hope do with so many stares upon her? She certainly would not quell beneath the curious eyes of her neighbors. No. She would sit taller, tilt her chin up, and dare them all to disapprove of her. Grace tried. Assuming a stiff posture, and the haughty expression she had seen her sister wear on any number of occasions, she did her utmost to challenge them to speak ill of her.
“Poor, dear Grace.” Mrs. Barnes met Grace’s eyes with a heaviness in her own. “It will not be easy for her to be so far from home.” Her eyes flicked to Jacob, then she turned her attention to her meal, slicing her meat delicately.
“No, it will not be easy,” Papa agreed. “But I think it necessary. The Carlburys will keep her safe. What better way for a young person to learn about the world than to step out into it?”
He and Mama rarely left the familiarity of their lands and the village. How could he wish for her, the child who shared his love of their home to such a degree, to go far from it?
Grace needed to speak. Silence did not suit Hope. Not when opinions of her character and her sister’s were bandied about so easily at a dinner table. Contradicting her father in front of their neighbors would prove unwise, however.
The irritating Miss Parr spoke again, after sipping from her cup of wine. Hopefully it was well-watered, the girl hardly seemed mature enough to step out of the school room. “We are lucky, Mr. King, that you have come while the adventurous Everly is at home and her sister gone away to learn to be more interesting.”
“Bettina,” her father said, the warning low from his place at the other end of the table. His daughter flushed and lowered her cup to the table.
Learn to be more interesting? What a horrid thing to say. Grace did not go about over-turning carriages like her sister, or pushing irritating gentlemen into ponds, or climbing up trees to fetch lost kites, but did that relegate her to the position of a wallflower?
She held to the arm of her chair, squeezing the wood tightly enough she might see the whorls of it in her hand if she looked closely.
Mr. King started talking again and everyone laughed. Grace did not pay enough attention to know why.
Their neighbors did not regard her as highly as they did Hope. Though she and Hope were nearly inseparable, attending every public and private function with each other, Grace had noticed the enthusiasm with which people always greeted her twin. Especially their friends and the younger set. Hope knew how to play every game, knew the steps to every dance, and told entertaining stories.
What did Grace do, but stand in her sister’s shadow and play the pianoforte? Sometimes she held conversations, quietly and politely, with the matrons. She made certain to include those young and old who stood on the outskirts of the festivities, like herself.
Stabbing at the lamb on her plate, Grace struggled to remain silent. Had she become a wallflower without realizing it? Did no one think of her when they wished for entertainment? How would they change their opinions if they knew it was always Grace who planned Hope’s popular parties and picnics?
The thoughts tumbled about in her head, mingling with her guilt. What would they say if they knew it was Grace and not Hope in their midst? Perhaps they would make excuses. They might even pay her a compliment of some kind, the polite sort of thing one says to just about anyone.
“Miss Everly.”
Grace raised her gaze and found Jacob watching her, his eyebrows drawn tightly together. Forcing her emotion back, she gave him her attention as best she could. “Yes, Mr. Barnes?”
Jacob pressed his lips tightly together a moment, then hurried on. “Perhaps you might arrange one of your famous picnics while Mr. King is visiting?” He winced after the words, then cleared his throat. “The orchards are perfect for such activities at this time of year.”
“I do love a picnic,” Miss Parr said, bouncing once in her seat. Had no one taught the girl to avoid putting herself forward in such a manner? It was not as though Grace had extended an invitation. If she did, she must now include the young woman. Drat Jacob, bringing up such an idea.
“I am not certain. Papa, what do you think?” Grace turned to her father, hoping he would recall his anger with Hope and tactfully refuse the request. Hope was to be punished, after all, for her willfulness and inability to think her actions through. Gifting her with a picnic would be preposterous—
Without much of a pause, her father nodded once. Most firmly. “Splendid idea. You ought to organize a picnic. A most excellent way to pass the time before your mother returns, and the children come home for the holiday.”
“Yes, Papa.” She swallowed her dismay and replaced it with a cheerful grin. “This will be lovely. And I will need everyone’s help to plan it, after dinner.”
“A glorious idea,” Sir Isaac said, raising his cup as though to toast her. “You always put on the best entertainments, Miss Everly. I remember the last party of yours I attended, before I purchased my commission.”
Grace barely listened as he described an adventure Hope had arranged which had them traipsing all about Everly Refuge, searching for items that corresponded to riddles she handed out. Yes, the party had been Hope’s idea, but Grace had written the riddles. And Hope had planned any number of picnics, but it was Grace who put together the menu and arranged the guest list.
“I will admit, I worried over the entertainment I might find in the country, but it sounds as though Miss Everly is an excellent hostess.” Mr. King tipped his head to her.
“I do my best, Mr. King.” Grace lifted her glass and drank as much as she dared, having nothing more intelligent to say.
Mr. Parr spoke, his blustery voice drawing attention to his end of the table. “I say, Mr. King, if you are in search of entertainment, might I offer you the use of my stream? It is the same as the Everlys’ brook, but has considerably more fish in it on my property before it gets to theirs.”
“You are forever saying you catch the largest fishes.” Grace’s father leaned back in his chair and one corner of his mouth tipped upwards. Mr. Parr and her father had always had a competitive friendship. “Given what I have pulled from my water, I cannot think it so.”
&nb
sp; “Why fish in the little streams when we have the whole of the sea?” Isaac asked. “I have been thinking of purchasing a yacht, especially for fishing trips and to make my way to London with greater ease.”
“There are some beautiful boats I have seen in the Cumberland Fleet.” Mrs. Barnes leaned toward Isaac, waving her hand in the general direction of London. “Are you interested in joining any of the clubs?”
The next course was brought in amid the general conversation on the subject. Some were for the idea of a yacht, others thought them a nuisance and waste of money.
Grace, barely listening, kept an amused look upon her face. Hardly caring whether or not it appeared as false a mask as it felt. Everyone else might have put aside the idea of a picnic, but she could not so easily dismiss it.
The eldest Everly sisters had worked together on everything, and that made Hope’s endeavors successful. Always, Grace had assisted her sister’s plans. Grace supported her sister, and Hope made certain Grace had a say in each activity.
But no one had seen Grace, working furiously behind the curtain, putting the final touches on each detail. Then Hope pulled back the drapery and reveled in the attention Grace did not enjoy.
Hope received the praise and accolades while Grace received the gentle, pitying smiles. It had never bothered Grace before. She and Hope were a set. The accomplishments of one were celebrated by both.
Without raising her head, she peered up at Isaac. Despite his brush with death, and his missing arm, he carried on as he had before the war. He spoke pleasantly to all and laughed without reservation. Together, he and Hope had arranged many exploits, launched campaigns which put the five of the Silver Birch Society’s members in harm’s way and earned their parents’ disapproval. Try as Grace might, she could not think of a time when Isaac praised Grace’s more levelheaded nature.
Discovering Grace: A Regency Romance (Inglewood Book 2) Page 12
