Evan followed despite the fact that he didn’t want to drink. Uncle had limited himself to one glass of wine at dinner and one glass of port after dessert, but he went straight for the sideboard and poured two glasses of dark brandy, handing one to Evan.
“To a successful evening,” Uncle said, lifting his glass in a toast. He threw his head back and finished his drink in a single swallow as though it were whiskey not brandy, which was generally sipped.
Evan took a sip of his own drink, feeling the liquid burn down his throat. By the time he lowered his glass, Uncle had already turned back to the sideboard. Evan searched for a distraction to keep Uncle from pouring another drink.
“What did you think of the Wilton daughters?”
“Ah,” Uncle said with a laugh, the decanter poised over his cup long enough for Evan to feel hopeful about Uncle’s restraint. “I wondered when we might talk of them.” He did pour his drink, however, and then turned to face Evan with a smug grin. “I thought your encouragement of this event might have an ulterior motive.” He did not throw back his second drink, and instead sat on a leather-covered settee and waved Evan to the chair across from it. “I thought you seemed rather interested in the girl.”
Evan looked into his glass, embarrassed to be the topic of this conversation and yet eager for his uncle’s impressions. He pictured Lenora sitting at the pianoforte, so intent and composed. Nothing like the anxious, awkward girl she’d been before tonight. This new perspective of her gave him hope, and yet she still avoided him, using the piano like a shield and leaving him frustrated with attempts to engage her. She was so different in her letters, and he was eager to uncover that side of her in person. “She has an amazing talent for music. It is impressive.”
“Do you mean the older Miss Wilton?”
Evan looked up, as much because of the words as the surprised tone. Had his attempts to be attentive to Lenora not been obvious? “Yes. Lenora.”
Uncle shrugged. “Oh, yes, she is talented. Only I thought it was the younger daughter you found interesting. You seemed quite taken with her at dinner.”
Evan swallowed. He had been rather taken with Miss Cassandra at dinner. Too taken. Realizing how much he’d enjoyed their conversation at dinner was why he’d tried to be more attentive to Lenora when they joined the ladies in the drawing room. She had already been at the pianoforte by then, however, and so there was limited chance to converse. But he had made a point to compliment her playing. By the end of the evening, she wasn’t blushing with every look shared between them. That was progress. He could understand why it wouldn’t seem like much to his uncle, however.
“Miss Cassandra was a lovely dinner companion,” Evan said.
“But you prefer the older one?” Uncle seemed confused.
“I feel that behind her shy manner is a great deal to admire.” Evan took another drink of brandy if for no other reason than to gain time to center his thoughts. The liquid did not burn nearly as hot as the first swallow, and he could feel a comfortable softening of his arms and legs. “And, besides, Lenora is out and Miss Cassandra is not.”
“So it is a matter of availability?”
“What?” Evan didn’t understand the question.
“If Miss Cassandra was out, would you consider her?”
“She is not out.”
Uncle regarded him with a sharp look. “You’re avoiding my question.”
“Am I?” Not drinking hard liquor often left Evan easily muddled when he did. And he hadn’t even wanted the brandy. He set the glass aside. “Forgive me, I do not mean to be avoiding anything. What was the question again?”
Uncle smiled with only half his mouth. “I asked if you would consider the younger girl if she were out in society?”
Evan thought about that. Cassandra was an excellent conversationalist and had a lovely laugh, which he’d managed to coax from her a time or two. Her attention to him felt sincere—not flirtatious or inappropriate—but it was Lenora he’d been writing to all these weeks. Talking to Cassandra had only increased his eagerness to get to know Lenora. He imagined the sisters would be very much alike once Lenora let down her guard.
“I have been exchanging letters with Lenora.”
Uncle looked nearly as surprised to hear the confession as Evan was to have confessed.
Evan tried to grab on something other than the truth that he could offer as an explanation of his outburst; there was an understanding between Lenora and himself that their letters were a secret.
Uncle’s eyebrows remained lifted. “I think you’ve something to tell me, my boy.”
The letters were supposed to be a secret, but then Cassandra knew of their campaign. If Lenora’s sister knew of the letters, what could be wrong about Uncle knowing as well? They both deserved a confidant, did they not? Evan took another drink, then opened his mouth and told the whole tale.
When Evan finished, Uncle leaned back in his chair and said nothing, his hands limp upon the armrests of the chair. The longer the silence stretched, the more uncomfortable Evan became. “You are displeased.”
“I am neither pleased nor displeased,” Uncle said with a shrug. He leaned forward and picked up his glass from the desk. He swirled his drink, then paused to take a swallow. “Only surprised, I suppose. Neither of you seem the type to conduct such an affair.”
“Surely affair is too strong a word,” Evan said, laughing too loud at what he hoped was an exaggeration. “I’ve made no promise to her.”
“Oh, my boy, conducting a secret connection with a young lady—especially a young lady who happens to be the daughter of a clergyman—is very much an affair, promise or not.”
Evan panicked. “No, the letters are simply the means to get to know each other better on account of her shyness. That is how she explained it when she first wrote to me.”
“She first wrote?”
Evan nodded, not realizing he’d left out that information in his earlier explanation. He repeated how the letters came about, hopeful that the originating circumstance would soften Uncle’s reaction. “Have I behaved badly?”
Uncle smiled, which eased Evan’s anxiety, and shook his head. “You have not done wrong,” he said. “Especially since it was Miss Wilton who initiated the exchange of letters. But that you allowed it to take place and have continued deceiving her parents is not something they will look well on if they learn of it.”
“But they might not learn of it.”
“But they might.” Uncle leaned back in his chair again. “She is nearly twenty-five years old, is she not?”
Evan wasn’t sure, but he remembered Bunderson saying that Miss Cassandra was twenty and there was a brother between the sisters in birth order. “I believe so,” he said.
“An unmarried girl of twenty-five is cause of concern for her parents, and so they likely won’t denounce you if they learn of the letters. I would caution you about continuing such a thing without having intentions toward her hand, however. It does not reflect well on you, no matter their daughter’s situation. It will get her hopes up, mark my word.”
“But she cannot speak to me in person,” Evan blurted, the drink and his anxiety working against him in tandem. “You saw her tonight. The only time she spoke to me was to thank me for my compliments on her playing, and even those two words were stammered. I swear she played louder once I approached her.” He hadn’t realized just how frustrated he was by her lack of engagement, and he blamed the brandy for encouraging him to vent his emotions so undiplomatically.
“You have never spoken to her?”
Evan shook his head. “Only through the letters, but through those letters I have come to know her. I understand what hides behind that facade.”
“A facade she does not lower even at an intimate dinner with only her family and your uncle in attendance?” Uncle pulled his eyebrows together. “That does not seem worrisom
e to you?”
Evan hesitated. He did not want to be critical of the young woman, but it would do no good to be dishonest either. Perhaps Uncle could help him resolve his concerns. “Yes, it does worry me some,” he admitted and took another swallow of brandy, hoping the strong drink would relieve the guilt he felt at discussing Lenora’s faults. Who was he to be critical of her? Without his uncle’s entailment he was a clerk in a shop. He had no right to judge anyone.
“A wife can make or break a man in more ways than one, and, if you don’t mind my saying so, you would benefit from a woman who can help you navigate this higher level of society. I’m not certain Lenora Wilton is that woman.”
Evan blinked at how similar those thoughts ran to the ones he’d had following the May Day celebration. Those thoughts had prompted him to push for this dinner party so that he might have more time in her company. But his fears had not been relieved by their time spent together tonight. Not hardly. Still, his uncle presenting the same argument gave Evan reason to advocate for the opposite so that he might see the situation from every possible perspective. “She is the daughter of a well-respected, genteel family. That is a strong recommendation.”
“And certainly to her credit, yes. But as one of the larger landholders in Leagrave, you will have a position in this village, Evan. You will be expected to entertain and conduct yourself in a public manner. I would suggest you find a wife who can strengthen that area for you, one who was raised with an understanding of how things are to be done since you were not.”
Evan ignored the sting though he was well aware of the truth of his unfamiliarity with this new level of society. “I am hopeful that as Lenora becomes more comfortable with me, she will lower her defenses.”
Uncle took a thoughtful sip of his drink. “Did you notice how her family allowed her to stay apart? They did not invite her to join in the conversation or offer that we all play cards or interact in some other way. They were as content to leave her behind the instrument as she was to remain there. To expect a woman of her age to change her character is a fragile hope at best.” He paused. “Do you understand what I am saying?”
“That she is not a good choice for me.” Evan stared at the carpet.
“That is not what I said,” Uncle said quickly, causing Evan to look up at him. Uncle smiled. “If you love her, then her shyness would be but one defect in an otherwise worthwhile connection.”
“I do not think I love her,” Evan said, shocked that his uncle would suggest it. “I am certainly intrigued by her—by the duality of her letters and her persona in public. I feel a sense of challenge to break through her barriers, and, I admit, I feel a sense of freedom to be myself in the letters, too.”
“I can see the benefit for both of you in that regard, but, again, I must caution you against exchanging many more letters. For one thing, it may become the only way to be true with one another, which would not bode well for a marriage at all. Additionally, if her parents were to discover this secret liaison, it would very likely force your hand to make an offer already implied—however unintentionally.”
Evan’s stomach rolled, and he set his glass on the side table. Was he already obligated? “What can I do?”
“At the very least, I suggest you spend more time with her. Take her for a drive or some such and see if she does become the woman from her letters.”
“What if she cannot connect with me in person as she does in her letters? What if, like you say, it is the only way we can be true with one another? If I court her openly then I will be obligated.”
“It would be better to take the young woman on a drive or two and part ways than to set up greater expectation and find it does not translate into a good match. Those letters are setting up an expectation, my boy. To believe otherwise and continue them would be foolish. You must now develop a relationship based on interaction.”
Evan considered every word of counsel, wondering why he hadn’t had such a brandy-assisted conversation with his uncle before now. “I can take her on a drive without having to declare myself?”
“Of course you can, so long as you stay on public roads and it’s an open carriage. You can take the gig.” Uncle smiled somewhat indulgently. “And I would suggest you do it sooner rather than later. If she is not the woman to make you happy, then the sooner you know it the better for everyone.”
“And no more letters?” Evan said, wondering how his glass had become empty.
“Only one more letter,” Uncle said, returning to the sideboard to fill his glass yet again. “An invitation for a drive. Let it be the last letter . . . unless you do decide to court her.” He paused, the bottle in his hand, and his expression softened. “Why, your aunt Lucy wrote to me during the few months she stayed with her aunt in Cheshire before we married. I still have those letters. The heart one puts on the page is a priceless gift.” He paused and swallowed, then met Evan’s eyes once again. “But letters alone are not enough. Drive out with her, see if she improves in your company. If she does not, I would consider whether she is the woman you want to base your entire future upon. Who you marry is the singularly most important decision you will ever make in your life, Evan. Do not take it lightly.”
Cassie was descending the stairs with her easel under one arm and her box of paints and brushes in hand when she heard Mama and Lenora talking excitedly in the parlor. She paused, unsure what could cause such energetic conversation. The fact that Lenora wasn’t playing the pianoforte was indication enough that something monumental had taken place. When Cassie reached the doorway, both Mama and Lenora turned toward her, their faces bright.
“Cassie, you’ll never guess what’s happened,” Mama said, rushing over and taking the paints from her hand while Cassie set down the easel. A paper was thrust into her hand, but before she could read it herself, Mama told her what it said. “Mr. Glenside has invited Lenora for a drive this afternoon!”
Cassie’s eyes went blurry a moment, then focused on those exact words written in a familiar hand on familiar paper.
It would be my greatest pleasure to escort you on a drive through the countryside where we might see the spring flowers and enjoy such a fine day. I shall call at 2:00 and return you in time for tea.
Your friend,
Evan
Cassie’s mouth went dry, and she had to force herself to breathe as the words marched before her eyes. The dinner party from two nights ago was thick in her mind—thick like honey or paste depending on what part she allowed control of her thoughts. The soft tenor of Evan’s voice when they’d spoken at dinner was like the languid warmth on a summer’s day, while watching him listen so attentively to Lenora’s music was thick like glue, with bits of doubt and self-consciousness sticking to her.
She had thought much more about that evening at Glenside Manor than she had about what would follow. But of course Evan would ask Lenora on a drive. Of course he would want to improve his connection to her. Cassie hadn’t dared write to him after the dinner party—her thoughts were so complicated—and part of her had hoped he would be put off by Lenora ignoring him and perhaps intrigued by Cassie’s attentiveness. Only he hadn’t been, apparently.
“Did this letter come to the front door?” Cassie asked, looking at her mother.
Mama pulled her eyebrows together. “Of course it came to the front door. Where else would it come?”
“Of course.” Cassie looked back at the letter. They had both come to sign their letters with increasing familiarity. His last letter—which had come through the kitchen via Young—had been signed like this one, with only his first name. Apparently Mama and Lenora had not noticed the familiar detail. Cassie’s heart began to race. A private drive. Just Evan and Lenora.
“Is it not wonderful, Cassie?” Lenora said, her face alight with happiness. “That he should show me such particular attention is beyond what I had hoped for.” She paused and her forehead puckered slightly. �
��Only it does seem rather bold, Mama. We have had very little time in one another’s company.”
“It is quite bold,” Cassie said quickly, seizing anything that might delay this. She was not ready to give Evan over to Lenora. What a terrible sister she was. She felt horrid.
“Mr. Glenside gets on well with your father and has been at church,” Mama said, waving away any possible lack of etiquette. Could Cassie’s argument from so many weeks ago about Lenora controlling Cassie’s destiny be part of why Mama was so casual with the rules now? “And we have no objection to his attention. In fact, I think it shows great insight on his part, Lenora, as he has chosen an event for just the two of you. Perhaps he has taken note of how difficult it is for you to withstand a crowd.”
“I am still quite nervous, Mama,” Lenora said, her voice rising a note higher. She began to wring her hands. “I have never been on a drive with a gentleman.”
“Now don’t go getting yourself in a fit about it.” Mama’s former light tone now held a reprimand. She fixed Lenora with a serious look. “This is a great compliment to you and a remarkable opportunity. You are not getting any younger, my dear, and your father and I have prayed earnestly for a man to see your character and seek a connection with you.” She took both of Lenora’s hands in hers and softened her expression, but her voice remained intent. “Focus on your strengths and do not overwhelm yourself, but you must make the most of this opportunity, Lenora. I don’t know how to impress upon you the importance of this drive, except to say that this may promise salvation from a future that, with every passing year, shall become dimmer until you may very well find yourself without the home and family we have all so longed for you to have.”
Cassie’s mouth had fallen open. Her mother had never spoken to Lenora this way. To Cassie, yes, Mama was frank on any number of subjects, but the family treated Lenora carefully, as though she could break at the slightest jostle of her tender feelings. The carefulness was something Cassie had resented on many occasions, and yet something she’d understood. Lenora was fragile, and she had been broken enough times that the family protected her like a fine vase. Cassie had never anticipated what it would be like to watch her mother strip away that protection and essentially tell Lenora that she was running out of chances.
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