“Paige! I knew I’d find you here.” Emma shattered the tranquil feeling.
“Look at this, Em!” Stephen tried to show her the precious Bible, but Emma would have none of it.
“We haven’t the time right now, brother.” She caught Paige’s arm and headed for the door. “The ball is tonight, and we must get ready!”
Alarm shot through Paige as she dug in her heels. How could it already be afternoon? “I’m not going to the ball! It isn’t my place!”
“Balderdash.” Stephen stopped his perusal of the Gutenberg to glower at her. “You’re a lady through and through. Besides …” His smile banished any thoughts of arguing. “I want you to be there.”
“But, um, I …”
Emma marched her toward the door as Paige struggled for a plausible reason to avoid her fate. Desperate, she played for time. “It’s hours before the ball! Surely we could wait a bit.”
“Every lady takes hours for her toilette before such an occasion.”
“Why?” The question escaped before Paige could think it over. Her curiosity always managed to find her at the most deplorable times.
“You’ll see.” With a gamine grin, Emma whisked Paige upstairs before she could utter another word of protest.
“I haven’t a thing to wear.” Paige spoke the realization aloud as she stood before the armoire, looking critically at a sea of gray cotton and serge.
“I know.” Emma’s self-satisfied pronouncement held no reassurance. She opened the door to the sitting room between Paige’s room and her father’s.
“Miss Rosebrawn will see to it that this isn’t a problem. I gave her your measurements as best I could figure them. I borrowed one of your other gowns, but I’ve noticed they’re a bit large on you. Of course, there will be a few alterations needed, so she’ll have just enough time to finish it for tonight!”
Miss Rosebrawn held up a shimmering creation of white cloth overlaid with sheer silver.
“Come on, love. We’ll have it on in a trice, then you’ll let old Rosey see what needs be done!”
Paige couldn’t voice the protests welling up inside her: It was too expensive, she didn’t deserve it, they were too kind…. The simple truth was, she couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to meet Stephen at a ball dressed in this ethereal gown.
“Oooh, how marvelous!” Emma gave a little clap as Paige twirled a bit.
Fit for a princess, the high-waisted gown fitted closely at the bodice, then gathered beneath her bosom to fall in graceful folds to the floor. Tiny, ruched sleeves, which Paige would have thought simply ridiculous in their frivolity, flattered the line of her neck and gave dignity to her height. Really, Paige mused, turning to look in the large cheval mirror Emma had thoughtfully produced, it’s not all that different from what I usually wear. Silver just sparkles a bit more than gray, and it’s slightly tighter in the chest than I’m used to, but it’s not overly fitted….
“It’s too large in the waist,” Rosey muttered, pinching the fabric and sticking in a pin.
Paige couldn’t stifle the gasp of dismay at the dramatic change. “No, that won’t be necessary. I love it just the way it is.” Paige groped in vain to find the mischievous pin wreaking havoc on her dress. “This way it’s simply too …” For the first time in her life, words failed her.
“Flattering?” Emma supplied helpfully, amusement coloring the word. “Really, Paige. It’s neither improper nor ostentatious, though it showcases your figure quite nicely. Why have you been hiding behind those old gray dresses? This suits you far better. I can’t wait to see Stephen’s reaction!”
Paige couldn’t respond, didn’t know how to explain that the dress made her feel vulnerable. Simply by cinching in the fabric at the waist, Miss Rosebrawn turned the garment from lovely to stunning. The dress, no longer the focus of the ensemble, served to accentuate … her. Although, if she were to be perfectly honest, it wasn’t overly revealing, nor did the fabric cling because the overdress skimmed the other fabric.
Coward, Paige chided herself. Who are you to dictate fashion, anyway? She remembered how Stephen had at first thought her to be a maid. Then her mind filled with other memories. Stephen, his eyes alight with earnest interest when she spoke. How he never made her feel like a giant when he stood next to her and how he valued her company. “I want you to be there.” The words echoed sweetly in her thoughts, and she realized for the first time how much she wanted to be there for him. In this dress.
She squared her shoulders, stifled her qualms, and smiled at Emma and Rosey. “It’s perfect. Thank you so much for your kindness.” Tears swam in her eyes as Emma enveloped her in a hug.
“Here, now!” Rosey pushed them apart. “It won’t do to wrinkle it afore you ever wear it!”
“That’s right.” Emma composed herself. “We’d best get on with it. Please tell Alice to come in, Miss Rosebrawn.”
For the next three hours, Paige gave up protesting. The mysterious Alice smeared some concoction—smelling suspiciously of cucumbers—all over Paige’s face, instructing her to let it sit as she luxuriated in a warm bath. Before her hair dried, the formidable lady’s maid wielded a pair of scissors. Here, Paige wouldn’t be overruled. She allowed only a trim rather than a more stylish cut. After her hair dried, she regretted her stubbornness, for surely if she had less hair it wouldn’t have taken so long to curl.
Finally, after she’d been primped, powdered, draped in her mother’s pearls, and popped into a pair of Emma’s slippers, Paige allowed the maid to help her into the lovely gown. As she made her way toward the receiving platform at the top of the grand staircase, she felt a strong kinship with Deborah and Annalisa, all of them women venturing where they felt they didn’t belong.
Chapter 10
Tonight’s the night, Freddy.” Stephen threw the sixth ruined cravat on the bedside table, narrowly missing his friend. He just couldn’t concentrate.
“So you’ve finally figured out you’re in love with her?” Freddy took mercy on him and constructed an elaborate knot.
“I asked Samuel’s blessing this afternoon while Emma kept her busy, and Mother gave me the Pemberton engagement ring, looking like the cat who swallowed a canary.” Amazing how not even that bothered him. After Emma stole Paige, he’d read their Bible for hours. But every chapter somehow reminded him of her.
He ran across the “noble woman” passage in Proverbs and felt a stab of longing to be the man who gave her children. Flipping the pages, he came to verses about love. “Love is patient….” He felt anything but patient. He couldn’t wait to see her again. “You couldn’t do better than Paige, old man. Still piqued I didn’t warn you?” Stephen decided he must be in love, since the I-knew-it-all-along tone of his friend’s voice didn’t bother him. He left the room to join his mother and sister in the receiving line. His mother must have invited every neighbor within five miles.
Stephen’s smile froze after twenty minutes, and his mind wandered. Where was Paige? He’d seen no glimpse of her since Emma had whisked her off. She should have been among the first ones in the receiving line.
Of course, part of her beauty lay in her unpredictability. No other woman he knew would allow dirt to smudge her cheek, traipse around in baggy gray dresses, brandish crowbars, discover secret rooms, enthuse over books, care diligently for her father, and love the Lord like his Paige. Her versatility reflected in those marvelous gray eyes of hers, stormy, deep, lit with the fire of her inner loveliness. A man could get lost in such eyes.
He welcomed the news that this would be the last guest. He bowed to yet another debutante, the shining silver of her gown reminding him faintly of Paige. He smiled into her gray eyes, and his own widened in shock.
Behind this shimmering creature, the epitome of sophisticated elegance and taste, lurked the mischievous minx he’d come to love.
“Good evening, milord.” Her dulcet tones sent his pulse racing as she curtseyed gracefully. He longed to rip the ribbons from her hair and run his
fingers through those mahogany curls. The style, while lovely and all that was proper, did not showcase her uniqueness as did the queenly braided coronet she typically wore. How could a man want a woman’s hair to be up and down at the same time?
He offered her his arm and escorted her as they descended the grand stairwell toward the ballroom. Tonight, he’d ask her to be with him forever. He knew exactly where he’d propose, too—in the place he’d first seen her: their library.
Heart hammering a wild beat, Paige concentrated on the steps. It simply wouldn’t do to fall down the stairs, no matter how Stephen made her head spin.
Papa led her to the ballroom, and she hardly knew where to look. The chandeliers gave a glow reflected in the fabulous jewels and clothes of the guests. She smiled, remembering the first time she’d seen this place, when Stephen began thumping the wall in their hunt for the secret room.
“May I request your hand for a cotillion later this evening, miss?” She glimpsed at a freckled face blushing hotly as the youth bowed.
“Certainly.” As he scrawled his name on her dance card, another fellow took his place. Amazing what one little dress can do, Paige thought bemusedly as her tiny card filled more rapidly than she ever would have thought possible. Years ago her mother had insisted Paige learn to dance, though she hadn’t practiced in quite a while.
“My turn.” Stephen’s voice cut through her reverie, and he snatched up her dance card with unneeded ferocity.
“I may not be of nobility, milord, but even I know one isn’t allowed to waltz unless given the nod by a patroness at Almack’s!” Paige felt scandalized and more than a little pleased as he signed his name next to all three waltzes planned for the evening.
“That’s only for young debs making their come-out.” His words both thrilled her and sent a pang of regret coursing through her body. The pain of not being a lady of his class would be mitigated by the fact he’d singled her out.
“Ahem, Ahem.” The orchestra stopped playing as Lord Poffington stepped onto the dais and cleared his throat purposefully.
“I just wanted to make a toast. Let’s all raise our glasses to the Earl of Pemberton and his bride-to-be, my only daughter, Miss Arabella Poffington!”
Gasps met his pronouncement as Arabella stepped next to her father, simpering smile in place. “Lord Pemberton—although I suppose I can call him Stephen now,” she cast a smitten look toward him, “simply insisted. Thank you all for wishing us happy.”
As Stephen moved toward the platform to join his fiancée, Paige made a beeline for the door. Excited whispers buzzed in her ears as she tried to leave without bursting into tears.
“So romantic … they make a lovely couple.”
“Perfect match, both of high station …”
“I’m so relieved. You know, I’d heard rumors he spent far too much time with some little commoner. Can you imagine a nobody being the next countess?”
“Of course not. He knows what’s due his station.”
Paige finally reached the hall and ducked into the library, closing the door and giving in to the tears. I’m being silly. I knew he’d never choose me. “Some little commoner,” “a nobody.” They are right. I would never fit in, anyway. How could I have been so blind as to think he despised Arabella’s catty comments? Since when did a man care about words when a woman offered beauty and status?
She’d have to leave. It would be impossible to see him in their library, their secret room again. She couldn’t pretend happiness when her heart lay shattered and her pride sorely bruised. Before she left, she’d see the Gutenberg one last time, though, as a reminder of God’s love.
The moment of frozen disbelief cost him dearly. Even as Stephen stormed toward the dais, he saw Paige make her way out the door. He longed to go after her but knew if he didn’t expose this engagement as a sham, he’d be duty-bound to wed Arabella Poffington.
“You are mistaken, sir.” He used his height to tower over Lord Poffington.
“Oh no, I’m not.” The older man drew his shoulders back. “I have it on very good authority you two reached an understanding after spending the afternoon unchaperoned,” his voice lowered, “in the caretaker’s cottage.”
“Impossible. Such a situation never arose, Lord Poffington. And don’t you suppose I would be gentleman enough to approach you if I desired your daughter’s hand?”
Clearly, his firm tone gave Arabella’s father pause, and for the first time, the older man cast an uncertain look at his daughter. “But I was told two days ago …” His voice trailed off.
Lord Freddy broke in. “Inconceivable. Two days ago would make the day in question Wednesday, and I personally can vouch for the fact that the earl spent the day in his library with me, the Turners, and his sister, Emma.”
Stephen watched with satisfaction as the smile dropped from Arabella’s face.
“How dare you accuse my son of even a hint of impropriety!” Stephen’s mother rapped Poffington on the chest with her fan.
“I apologize for the … misunderstanding. We will, of course, be leaving immediately. My daughter …” Lord Poffington spat out the word, “has some explaining to do.” As they left the ballroom, everyone burst into conversation.
Stephen made for the door, only to be blocked at every turn by guests expressing their relief he’d escaped marriage to “that Poffington chit.”
As each person offered condolences, he edged around them, desperately wishing for the first time there was no secret room but instead an adjoining door to the library. He would give almost anything to escape so he could find Paige and explain what happened.
He burst into the hallway and was heading for the library when he saw Samuel Turner just ahead of him. “Wait.” Stephen put a restraining hand on the older man’s shoulder.
Samuel turned around, shaking his head. “You don’t know how bad this is. She heard all those people saying how you and Arabella were the perfect match. I warned you earlier you’d have to convince her that our station didn’t matter. It may be too late.”
Stephen refused to give up. “No, it’s not.”
The older man’s eyes darkened in resignation. “I’ll pray for you both. But so help me …” Fire flickered in his gaze. “If you make this worse, you’ll hear from me, earl or no.” Paige’s father crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “I’ll be waiting right here.”
Finally, Stephen made it to the library, and his heart stopped. She wasn’t here. But the door to the secret room stood open, although he’d made sure to lock it when he left. Stepping over several bent hairpins, he strode in to check on the Gutenberg.
Paige sat on a short stool, traces of tears still on her face, with the Gutenberg on the table before her.
“Paige …”
“Don’t.” Her shoulders stiffened. “I can’t hear it, not now. I’ll be leaving in the morning. I–I–I wish you happy, Stephen.”
His heart leapt as she spoke his name. “Paige, you don’t understand. Arabella lied to her father, and they’ve been publicly denounced. I never wanted her. If you really wish me happy …” He knelt and took her hand in his. “Marry me, Paige. I love you.”
“I can’t.” Her voice broke as she began to weep. “I heard what everyone said. They’ll never accept me as your bride. I’m unfit to be a countess.”
She looked so forlorn, he wrapped his arms around her and let her cry on his perfectly knotted cravat. “Darling, I love you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a wife. The nobility is a fickle crowd, anyway. Right now they’re tearing Arabella to shreds with their words. What does their opinion matter if you care for me, too? The Lord doesn’t divide us by class but by the contents of our hearts. Yours is beautiful to me. Can’t you make room for us?” He held his breath, waiting for her answer. If she refused him, he could never stand in this room again, never hope for a family of his own.
“I love you, too, Stephen. Are you sure?” Her eyes, once sparkling gray, stared up at him, red and puffy.
“Can we pray about it?” she asked. “I came in here for guidance, and I wanted to see the Bible one last time. I’m just not sure.”
Stephen looked more closely at the open page and smiled as he read aloud: “ ‘Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favour of the Lord’—Proverbs.” He took her into his arms. “I think God’s will is quite clear.” He slipped the family engagement ring on the third finger of her left hand.
“Let’s go downstairs so I can show everyone my treasure.” Stephen took her hand as they left the room, thanking the Lord for his blessings. God gave him not only the gift of His Word but also the love of a lifetime. Amidst the trunks of a forgotten room, he’d truly found a treasure worth keeping.
APPLE OF HIS EYE
by Gail Gaymer Martin
Dedication
To my wonderful English cousins
in Rowledge Farnham in Surrey
Paul, Jennifer, Nicola, and Scott Gaymer
And to my Gaymer ancestors, founders of England’s
Royal Warrant Gaymer Cyder, whose true story inspired me.
“With men this is impossible,
but with God all things are possible.”
MATTHEW 19:26
“Keep my commandments, and live;
And my law as the apple of thine eye.
Bind them upon thy fingers,
write them upon the table of thine heart.”
PROVERBS 7:2–3
Chapter 1
Victorian England, 1851–52
Sarah Hampton peeked through her lacy bedroom curtain into the flower beds along the garden wall. “Who is the stranger tending the flower beds, Dulcie?”
The young maid eyed the stranger. “The new orchard keeper, miss.”
British Brides Collection Page 25
