Eliza laughed. “That’s a good deal too fine for this little area of England. Are they lost, do you think?”
“I know you’re teasing,” the widow said soberly, “but as the parson’s daughter, you ought to reach out to them. In my day, I would have done it myself, but as it is, I don’t exactly hold societal clout in these parts anymore. You should ask them to attend church on Sunday. It’s always nice to be included in the community, and an invitation from the parson’s daughter would be kindness itself.”
“It’s a kind thought,” Eliza said. Her interest was piqued. A family mysteriously appearing in a long-abandoned estate was just the sort of thing that could set a wildfire amongst the gossips in Bibury, and though Eliza liked to think herself above such things, in truth she felt a little thrill of excitement herself. “Nobody new has ever moved to the village in my memory.”
“Perhaps it is an opportunity to expand your horizons,” the widow said quickly and kindly. “Not that you necessarily need such a thing. I know that you’re very well-read and compassionate, but you can’t understand what you’re missing until it’s given you. Perhaps the family at Rosewood are nobles; perhaps there’s a scientist in the group, or a world traveller. Think of all the things that you could learn. If you’re nervous about it, you could always send a written invitation rather than going in person.”
But Eliza could only think about her growing curiosity. A written invitation would delay the chance for her to see the inside of Rosewood and explore the reputed gold moulding in the great hall they had adjacent to their parlour.
A written invitation would not allow her ample opportunity to read the faces of the newcomers herself and determine their motive and genuine quality. A written invitation would not allow her the chance to learn for herself whether these people were truly as interesting as their circumstances made them sound.
“I’ll have to ask my father,” she added quickly, pulling herself into the present again with a little blush of embarrassment that her thoughts had wandered so far. “But I think that an in-person invitation would be so much kinder, don’t you?”
“Of course, you should ask your father’s opinion!” the widow exclaimed. “I wouldn’t ask you to reach out without his blessing, but I can’t imagine he’ll have any objections. Your father is a kind man, and nothing can go wrong with an invitation, can it?”
Want to read the rest of the story? Check out the book on Amazon!
Also, please turn the page to find a special gift from me!
Sign up for my mailing list to be notified of hot new releases and get my latest Full-Length Novel “Honorable Rosalind’s Heart” (available only to my subscribers) for FREE!
Click the link or enter it into your browser
http://bridgetbarton.com/rosalind
Falling for the Mysterious Viscount: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 32
