While she sat next to her father, listening to Mr. Spratt’s reading of a sermon on forgiveness, she imagined what it would be like in a fortnight when Jacob stood to deliver his first scripture and sacraments. He would look well in his vestments, as distinguished as the church itself. His warm voice would wash over the room and reverberate against the stone walls most pleasantly.
Her heart throbbed, sore still from his parting words. Though she tried not to think on him, tried not to remember the way he had stared at her in the orchard as if he would kiss her, Jacob’s smiles and frowns lived within her mind and heart. If only he had understood her, or at least made the attempt.
Their friendship had been damaged, she well knew. It would take a great deal of time to heal it again, if ever it was to be healed. Yet despite telling him the truth Grace had kept one thing back. Telling him of her feelings, her admiration and the love she felt for him, could have done no more damage than her actions already had.
Sir Isaac, seated near the front, turned slightly and beamed at her. Dear Isaac, always her friend no matter what. Did he know what she was about to do, in front of the whole congregation? She had noticed more than a few people turn her way only to next bend their heads to whisper to their neighbors. They were all judging her, speculating on what she had done and why.
The sermon drew to a close. A final hymn was sung after the prayer was said. Then Mr. Spratt looked to her father, his eyebrows raised behind his spectacles.
This was it. This was the moment Grace must speak. Every muscle in her body tensed as she prepared to stand.
To her surprise, her father silently shook his head, staring back at the vicar. Mr. Spratt nodded graciously at Grace, and then walked out of the building to stand in his customary place to bid everyone a good sabbath.
Grace stared after him, then turned to look up at her father. “Papa?”
“Grace.” He heaved a sigh, as though he bore a great weight upon his chest. “My dear girl, let us go home. Our business is our own, what consequences that arise naturally from your actions will be enough.”
She reached out and took his hand. “Thank you, Papa.” He turned his palm over and squeezed her hand gently. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He offered her his arm. They left the church, greeted by a few friends, smiled upon by Mr. Spratt, and Grace held her head high all the way home.
Chapter 19
Jacob sat with his eldest brother in a private parlor at their inn, the silence between them comfortable. The late afternoon sunlight cast a soft light into the room, and Jacob’s thoughts lingered on the ordination he had undergone hours earlier. Matthew had accompanied Jacob to Norwich, to lend his support and companionship to the journey.
“You are a changed man, I take it?” Matthew asked, bringing an end to Jacob’s contemplative state.
“I hope so.” Jacob fought back a grin. “It would be a sorry thing if such an event had no impact upon my person. I have promised a great many things to God and to myself today. I hope I am ready for this responsibility.”
Matthew leaned back in his chair, a gleam in his eye. “I do as well, for I must put a request to you. An official request to my priest. Would you officiate for a wedding ceremony between myself and Eliza Muir?”
Although the family expected, and hoped, for an announcement of the sort, Jacob’s surprise delayed his response a moment. “I would be honored, Matthew. Why have you waited this long? Surely not for me.”
“Of course for you,” Matthew scoffed good-naturedly. “I can think of nothing finer than to have you perform the ceremony, and Eliza agreed. You ought to get your practice in with people who will not mind your novice recitation of the marriage sacrament.”
Jacob laughed and raised his half-empty cup to his brother. “I salute you for finding a willing bride at last.”
Lifting his cup, Matthew nodded in agreement. “And finally giving Mother grandchildren.” They both tipped their dinner cups and drank.
“It is cheating to marry someone who already has children.” Jacob had met Mrs. Muir’s children on several occasions. They were young, a little girl and a boy barely out of leading strings, and as adorable as children that age could be. “You will be a fine father to them.”
“That is my hope.” Matthew stared into his cup, his eyebrows drawn down. “I have come to love them and their mother. I cannot imagine many more days without Eliza by my side and those children filling our old nursery with their joy.”
Watching his brother over the past several months, Jacob had seen the change in Matthew, a change wrought by love. He was still himself, but a better version than he had previously been. Matthew was more thoughtful of others, and he laughed more, too.
“When do you think you will propose to the Everly girl?” Matthew asked.
Jacob laid an arm over the table and pushed his fork further onto his empty plate. “I do not think I can.” Matthew scowled and opened his mouth to protest, so Jacob hastened to add, “Things have grown more complicated, Matthew. More than I am able to explain.”
“You cannot get out of it that easily. I am your brother. Tell me and perhaps I might help.” Matthew put his cup down and pushed slightly away from the table. “Did you at least take my advice from before?”
It took Jacob a moment to recall what that advice had been. “To determine if she would make me a good wife, not a good wife to a vicar. Yes. But since I am now a vicar, the point is one and the same.”
“Not really.” Matthew stood and went to the window, looking out into the inn’s courtyard as he spoke. “You may be a vicar, but you are still you. The woman you marry needs to please Jacob Barnes, not whatever parish you shepherd. People will come and go, marry, die, leave. Your only constant in this life will be your family, the wife you choose for yourself, your children. So you must choose someone who pleases you, Jacob. Not someone who pleases the flock.”
Jacob considered those words, measuring them against the vows he had that morning taken, promising to care for the souls in his parish and helping them seek their eternal salvation. He had promised to make himself, and his family, a wholesome example to his parish.
When he thought of Grace, despite all that had passed of late, he knew her to be a compassionate woman, kindhearted and good. Gentle and mindful of others.
“There is something else,” Jacob said, lowering his voice. “A secret that I sincerely pray is no longer a secret.”
“This sounds ominous.” Matthew remained where he was, though he turned fully to give Jacob his attention. “What secret?”
Although reluctant to speak of it, Jacob could not keep it to himself any longer. Not in light of all that he had promised that day. It seemed everyone about him had given him advice about Hope, or Grace, and he had yet to settle his own mind and heart as firmly as he wished. After swearing his brother to secrecy, should Grace not have done the right thing by telling her father the truth, Jacob explained all that had happened since Hope had left for the West Indies, including their switch.
Matthew said little, though he listened attentively. His eyebrows shot high upon his forehead when Jacob admitted to almost kissing Grace in the orchard, and then Matthew covered his grin with his fist when Jacob described Grace pushed him away. When Jacob concluded the tale, he stood and went to one of the two chairs by the fire and collapsed into it. His mind and spirit were worn through, even if his body had been little taxed that day.
“It is rather like something out of a novel, or a play.” Matthew came and took the other chair, staring into the fire. “There is too much confusion, with your heart near the center of it. Although I cannot say whether Grace’s actions were right or wrong, it does sound as though this experience has proved difficult for her.”
Jacob steepled his fingers before him. “I have tried not to think about it these past three days. Traveling, preparing for ordination. I had other things to occupy my thoughts. But Grace is still there. In my mind. Pleading with me to understand her.�
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“Do you worry about her character?” Matthew asked.
“No. Not at all.” Jacob shifted in his chair and sighed. “I worry about mine.” The truth had come to him as he had stood before the bishop and listened to the prayers and scriptures read. “How could I think myself in love with Hope and be so wrong? And how do I know that giving Grace my attention is any better? I was prepared to ask for a courtship when she told me the whole plan, the switch, had been her idea. It frightened me that I did not know enough about her, one of my oldest friends, to have guessed at it. Isaac knew right away who had planned it,” he admitted, a trifle sourly.
The room had grown dark while they spoke, and a maid entered to light the candles above the mantle. Neither brother said a word while that was done, but when the door shut behind the servant, Matthew leaned forward, clasping his hands before him.
“It sounds as though you are afraid of making a mistake, and I understand that fear. Think on who you want by your side when you face illness, when you welcome a child into the world. Try to decide who you would have as your companion by the fire at night, who you trust to be by your side as you grow old.” Matthew stood and gave Jacob a pat on the shoulder. “You have always been a steady man, Jacob. Patient and careful in what you do. I have faith you will make the right decision.”
The kind words warmed his heart, even if they did not entirely bolster his confidence. Jacob nodded his thanks. “Are you for bed then?”
“I think it wise. We leave early in the morning. Mother will be anxious to have you home a few more days before you live at the vicarage.”
“Good night, Matthew.”
“Good night, Jacob. And good luck.” Matthew left the room.
For some time, Jacob stayed where he was, considering the choices before him. He did not even know Grace’s thoughts on the matter of a courtship. Or what she thought of him. She had always been a kind friend, and a tenderhearted woman. In the past weeks, Jacob had even imagined that she looked at him differently than she had before. Could Isaac have been right about her feelings?
Time. He needed more time before he spoke of his hopes for the future and before he made any plans.
Chapter 20
Grace settled at the pianoforte, her fingers trembling in her impatience. She had gone without her music while pretending to be Hope, and then abstained from playing in order to preserve peace for her father. That morning at breakfast, however, he had requested that she play. And he had spoken to her with such kindness that she knew he was well on his way to forgiving her.
First she played a piece by her favorite Austrian composer, Beethoven. Für Elise. She stumbled on the third measure, as the piece required a rapid pace her fingers were not quite limber enough to play. She did not stop, however. The joy of stumbling through the notes was nearly as perfect as if she had played flawlessly. Then she played one of her father’s favorites, a sonata written by another Austrian musician.
She had moved on to another song when a knock on the open door startled her. Her fingers left the keys when she saw Jacob standing there, his expression uncertain.
“My mother has come to visit you.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “She insisted I come, too. Mr. Everly asked me to fetch you.”
“Oh.” She stared at him a second longer, then lowered her gaze to the instrument. “I will be there in a moment.”
He did not immediately move, which tempted her into looking up at him again.
One corner of his mouth went upward. “You play beautifully, Grace.”
“Thank you.” Did he not want to get away from her quickly, as he had seemed to before? She gathered her music and stood. “I must congratulate you on your ordination,” she said at last, the words polite rather than warm. “I know how much it means to you.”
He ducked his head. “It is something I have wanted for a long time. Thank you.”
Was this to be the new standard of their conversations? Polite phrases, impersonal words? Grace bit her lip as she returned the music to its shelves. Perhaps he was still angry with her.
“Grace,” he said, his voice nearer. She turned to find him in the room, several steps inside it, though more still separated them. “Is everything all right? I heard that everyone knows, and there must have been some unpleasantness—”
She came forward, lifting her hands to stop his words. “No, nothing like that. A few people have looked at me strange, like Mrs. Parr and her daughter, and Miss Keyes may have said something less than pleasant, but—”
“But when does Miss Keyes really say anything else?” he interrupted, looking amused. “I am relieved to hear it. I worried for you.”
“I thank you for your concern.” She started to walk around him, but Jacob’s hand gently caught her arm before she passed by.
“Grace.” Lines creased his forehead, he stared down at her with an intensity she had rarely seen from him. “I’m glad you are you again.”
She pursed her lips, slightly confused. “You always knew who I was.”
He released her and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it without any concern. “I know. I still cannot understand why no one else realized what you were up to.”
“I suppose no one else ever took the time to look too closely.” And he had looked because he expected Hope, wanted Hope, and found Grace instead.
She told herself to be brave. For her, that did not mean going on a voyage to a different world, as Hope had. For Grace, being brave meant something else entirely. Tucking her hands behind her so he wouldn’t see her ball them into fists, she forced her thoughts into words.
“I have learned something from all of this.”
“Oh?” Jacob’s smile appeared, hesitantly at first.
“I have learned that speaking my mind can be beneficial. Especially when I told my father all my thoughts on the matter. I am not certain he has quite forgiven me yet, but he is much more understanding of my actions now.” She took in a deep breath, aware of how forward she would seem. A lady should not speak to a gentleman as she was about to, but Jacob was her friend. “I have something I wish to say to you, too.”
His lips stiffened, then he cleared his throat as though nervous. “Have you?”
“Yes.” The truth had weighed upon her heart long enough. Perhaps her confession would offer a reprieve at last. “I love my sister, but in some ways it was a relief to have her gone. I know it sounds selfish, and I am happy for her to have her dream at last, but having your attention to myself made every moment of the ruse worthwhile.” Grace ducked her head before seeing his reaction. She was not that brave. Not yet.
She hurried from the room, head low and heart thrumming. Telling him everything proved impossible. For a wild instant, she had considered revealing more of her feelings to him. Perhaps she ought to deliver only a portion at a time, so as not to shock him.
“Grace,” his voice called in the passageway. She stopped but did not turn, near the stair. His footsteps caught up to her, slowing when he came up behind her.
When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “I am glad you did not go with the Carlburys.” Then his hand touched her wrist again, barely brushing it, yet the contact sent electric tingles up her arm.
“Thank you. But I know you were disappointed that Hope did not remain at home.” The truth slipped from her like water down a rock.
He stepped around her, then offered his arm. Grace accepted it without seeing his expression, certain she would find pity in his eyes.
“At first I may have been. I had hoped to gain the courage to court her in earnest. But I can see now—and I have known for some time—that Hope and I would not suit one another.”
The sincerity of his words comforted her. At least he no longer pined for her sister. Together, they went upstairs to the parlor, not saying another word to each other.
Mrs. Barnes stood when Grace entered, and after Grace’s polite greeting, the woman crossed the room and enveloped her in a hug. Although momentari
ly surprised, Grace returned the embrace.
“Dear Grace.” Mrs. Barnes parted from her, taking up Grace’s hands. “I have been telling your father what I think of your actions, young lady.”
Grace’s cheeks pinked and she looked to where her father stood at his chair, Jacob coming to stand beside him wearing his curiosity quite openly.
“And what do you think of them?” Grace asked, looking up into Mrs. Barnes’s kind face.
“I think you did the best you could in your situation, and I am not at all upset with you.” Mrs. Barnes bestowed a kiss upon Grace’s cheek before leading her to the couch. “I want to hear all about it. I imagine you had a difficult time, because no matter how alike you and your sister are in appearance, your characters are so divergent.”
She wanted Grace to talk of what she had done? No one else had asked for that. Not even her mother, when she had written back after receiving Grace’s letter of confession. In confusion, she looked to her father. “Papa?”
He settled back into his seat and released a put-upon sigh. “You might as well tell the story. In years to come, I imagine most will be more amused than troubled by it.”
Grace looked to Jacob. He had been part of the story. As of yet, she had not revealed his place in it. His abhorrence of deception would make him reticent to admit to it.
“Tell your story, Grace,” he encouraged gently. “I will let you know if you leave anything out.”
Mrs. Barnes instantly turned to face her son. “How exactly would you be capable of that?”
“Someone recently told me I needed to be more courageous in my words and actions.” He faced her father. “I knew of Grace’s deception, from the very first day.”
“You what?” Papa started to rise from his chair but seemed to think better of it and lowered himself back most abruptly. “Oh, I suppose that does not surprise me at all. You and the girls have always been thick as thieves.”
Grace turned to Mrs. Barnes, ready to defend Jacob, but she stopped when she saw the way Mrs. Barnes was staring at her son. The woman regarded him with narrow-eyed amusement.
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