No, those were not the right words. I wanted nothing more than to excuse myself and rejoin Mama, claiming I had tried, but that would be dishonest, and I had more than enough lies in my life at the moment.
I lowered my voice. “Lieutenant Avery, I wondered if everything was all right. It only seems as though Olivia is . . . well . . .”
“Thickheaded?” he suggested, his voice laced with frustration. “Mulish? Unable to see reason?”
I stared at him. He seemed to realize that his response had been a bit abrupt, and he ran a hand through his fair hair, loosening the neat arrangement. One lock fell haphazardly across his forehead.
“I am sorry,” he said. “I did not mean to be rude.”
I shook my head. “No matter. Have you any idea what is bothering her? Today, that is?”
He rubbed his forehead. “She has made it very clear she does not want to go into church. I thought she would give in once we arrived, but—” He waved his hand in her direction.
I eyed Olivia. If anyone needed Mr. Porter’s sermons, it was her. She could use a few lessons of gratitude and obedience.
And I could use a lesson in patience, I reminded myself. She had been through so much. For the briefest of moments, I imagined my life without Mama. A stabbing ache shot through me, and I gulped. Yes, I ought to allow Olivia a little more grace.
Perhaps Mama was right. Perhaps Olivia simply needed the right person to talk to. Mama had tried, and clearly, Lieutenant Avery wasn’t making any progress. I might as well take a stab at it. “Would you mind if I tried speaking with her?” I asked.
He waved one hand in his sister’s general direction. “You are more than welcome to. Heaven knows nothing I do seems to make any difference.”
“I think heaven knows you are trying,” I said. “And that is quite good enough.”
He did not respond for a long moment, and I looked up at him. He observed me with those guarded eyes, as green as the ivy climbing the stone walls of the cemetery. My cheeks heated under his scrutiny, and I ducked my head and moved toward Olivia.
She knew I was there, but she ignored me and stared steadfastly away.
I crouched beside her, arranging my skirts about my ankles. “Good morning, Miss Olivia,” I said in my gentlest voice, the one I used when Stella was nervous or uneasy. I may not have understood children, but I did understand horses. It was my best plan. My only plan, really.
She did not respond, move, or in any way acknowledge that I was there. It was rather like speaking to a portrait. I chewed on my cheek. Ought I ask her straight out why she was acting like this? I doubted that would yield good results. Perhaps a simple conversation would loosen her tongue.
“I gathered from your brother that you do not wish to attend services this morning.” I leaned closer. “I cannot say I blame you in the least. Mr. Porter is nearly as dull as he is long-winded. Not a winning combination in my book.”
She turned slightly, eyeing me. A reaction, finally.
“Did you attend services where you lived before?” I asked.
She did not speak, but her fingers drummed restlessly against her side.
“I can only hope your vicar was a bit more spirited. Mr. Porter always seems as if even he is bored by his sermons.”
Her lip twitched. If I had blinked, I might have missed it.
I forced a dramatic sigh. “It is rather unfortunate we must suffer through such stuffy services in silence, don’t you think?”
Nothing again. The girl ought to take up gambling, with a stone face like that.
I glanced at Lieutenant Avery, lingering by the cemetery gate and watching us as unobtrusively as he could manage. He raised his brow—a question. I shook my head.
I needed another strategy. Clearly, Olivia would not simply open up to a complete stranger, even if I had saved her life just last week. And obviously, I was bungling this whole conversation anyway.
I smoothed my skirts. “I am sorry you do not like church. I was the same at your age. In fact, Mama used to bribe me into good behavior at church.” I was blathering. “She knew my favorite sweets were iced cakes, so she instructed our cook to bake them every Sunday, and I would be allowed one if I behaved myself through the entire service.” The bud of an idea took root in my mind, and I straightened. “Perhaps we might make an arrangement, you and I.”
“An arrangement?”
I had her attention. Good. “What sort of sweets do you like, Olivia? Baked apples? Banbury cake?”
She twisted her mouth to one side. “Why?”
“Because if you come into church today,” I said, “I will deliver to you an entire basket of your favorite treats.”
Her eyes widened. Aha. Success. I was not so removed from childhood as to have forgotten the appeal of dessert.
“So what is it?” I probed. “Your favorite?”
“Strawberry tarts.” Her voice had lost that scratchy quality and now sounded as fragile as a newly blossomed rose. “My favorite, and Mama’s.”
Her mama, who had died six months past. I forced a bright expression to my face. “An excellent choice.” I stuck out my hand for her to shake. “Do we have a deal, then? You may even sit beside me inside, if you wish.”
She stared at my hand, then me. Her shoulders stiffened, and she turned away without another word.
Botheration. I thought it had been going well, but that again revealed how very little I knew of children. I stood and moved to rejoin Lieutenant Avery.
“Did she say much?” His arms were still crossed against his chest.
“Nothing, really. Although I do not think she likes church.”
“Doesn’t like church?” He frowned. “Why would she not like church?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” I said, straightening my hat. “But if you would care for a bit of advice, I would not recommend pressing her on this.”
“Why is that?” he asked. “Besides the obvious awkwardness of dragging her into the chapel and causing a scene, of course.”
I grinned. “Yes, besides that.” It was really too bad Oliva made Lieutenant Avery so strained all the time. He was quite funny when he wanted to be. “Truly, though, she seemed very set against going in. Perhaps it is simply willful disobedience, or perhaps it is something more.”
He blew out a hard breath. “I wish I could understand.”
“Do you—?” The jolting bellow of organ pipes cut off my question, crashing through the tranquil morning. I spun to the church doors, now closed against the summer warmth. “Oh, I’m late.”
“I am sorry to have kept you,” he said from behind me. “Please, do not worry over us.”
I turned back as the choir inside joined the organ in the rousing hymn. “You needn’t apologize, Lieutenant. It was my fault for interfering.”
He smiled. He had a rather nice smile, wide and open. “I am glad you interfered. She at least spoke with you.”
I glanced at Olivia, who now tapped the trunk of a nearby tree with a long stick. I did not think I had made any difference at all, but I wouldn’t be the one to tell him that.
The choir inside climbed a crescendo into the second verse, and I took a step back. “I ought to go in, but I wish you the best of luck.”
“Thank you, Miss Rowley.”
I climbed the church steps, pausing with my hand on the worn wood doors. A strange urge whispered inside me to look back, see if Lieutenant Avery was watching me like he had the night of the assembly. But that was silly. A foolish womanly pride that I could command a man’s attention. I already had the admiration of the only man who mattered. I opened the door and slipped inside.
The organ still wailed as I hurried up the aisle to our pew box at the front of the chapel. I wished I could have stolen into the gallery with Fawcett and the other servants. But Mama would come searching for me eventually, so I mi
ght as well make my entrance during the midst of a distracting hymn.
Except it was not as distracting as I would have liked. Heads turned as I passed, the people whispering with pointed stares. The vicar, seated at his desk below the pulpit, scowled at me as I pulled open the little door to our box and slid in beside Mama as quickly as I could.
“I hope you are pleased with yourself,” I whispered to her. “Your assigned mission has earned me Mr. Porter’s ire.”
“You already had Mr. Porter’s ire,” she replied. “But now you can feel justified in it, knowing you were aiding someone in need.”
I shook my head. “Olivia hardly spoke to me, so I would not count it a success.”
“Perhaps not today. But do not give up so easily.”
So easily? I thought I’d put in a good effort already. If Olivia did not wish to be befriended, I would be more than happy to give her such freedom. Notwithstanding my sympathy for her and her trials, I still did not particularly like her.
But I did not argue with Mama as the choir took their seats and Mr. Porter rose and climbed to his pulpit. As he began the morning’s recitations, I kept my focus ahead and my expression sober. No need to provide more reasons for the vicar to dislike me.
Mr. Porter droned on, repeating the general confession with all his usual lethargy. My thoughts began to drift away like a cloud in a summer breeze, but I reined them in. I was not a restless child any longer. I was a woman soon to be married, and I ought to act like one.
A sharp creak echoed from the back of the church. Heads turned all around me, yet I proudly focused my attention on Mr. Porter. But even he glared at whatever was behind me distracting his parishioners.
When Mama let out a whispered, “Oh,” I could no longer resist.
I peeked over my shoulder. Lieutenant Avery stood inside the church doors, hat in his hands and Olivia at his side. They both looked rather aghast to have the entire congregation staring at them, Olivia’s cheeks stained red like wild summer strawberries. She found me watching her and tugged on her brother’s sleeve, pointing. Lieutenant Avery’s eyes traveled the distance up the aisle to our family pew, almost the entire length of the church. He shook his head and searched the back of the church, likely for a visitor’s pew.
But Olivia wanted to sit by me, like I’d offered if she came into the church. Why she wanted that, I could not say, but I did not wish to disappoint her. There was plenty of room on our pew and no reason that they ought not share it with us.
I looked at Mama, but she was already nodding her approval. I turned fully in my seat and waved Olivia forward, trying for discretion.
She marched up the aisle without hesitation. Lieutenant Avery stared after her, then sighed and followed. The poor fellow. Strong-willed sisters were not for the faint of heart.
Whispers trailed behind Olivia as she arrived at our pew and I opened the half door for her to slip in beside me. Lieutenant Avery was right behind her, closing the door as he sat.
The congregation settled around us, and attention went back to Mr. Porter as he plodded along through his recitations. I glanced down at Olivia, the top of her golden curls barely reaching my shoulders. She gnawed her lip with such force that I was surprised not to see blood.
She must have felt my stare, because she looked up. I smiled tentatively. She did not respond for a long moment, but then she swallowed and set her lips in a smooth line, red from her biting. Her arms, crossed rigidly against her chest, loosened as she turned back to the pulpit.
I glanced at Lieutenant Avery above Olivia’s head. His eyes were already fixed on me, softer than I’d ever seen them. Thank you, he mouthed.
When Stella and I rode, when she quickened from a canter to a gallop, there was always a flash of anticipation. Her hooves skipped a beat, and my pulse thrummed through me like a harp, filling me with the most delicious thrill.
Why I felt that same thrill now, I could not even begin to understand.
I ignored the swoop in my stomach as I turned my attention back to the pulpit. The service passed as slowly as a blind horse in a race, especially with Olivia fidgeting beside me—and Lieutenant Avery just beyond her. The church grew hot, the sun beating in through the stained-glass windows and not a breeze to be had.
When Mr. Porter finally concluded services, I had never been more grateful, which was saying quite a lot considering how tedious his sermons were as a whole.
Apparently, Olivia had the same opinion. As soon as the vicar began descending from his pulpit, before anyone in the congregation had stood, she looked up at me. “He was even more dull than you let on.”
Her sharp voice carried easily through the echoing chapel. The Winstons turned in their pew ahead of us, the miserly Mr. Winston glaring at the both of us. Across the aisle, Mrs. Follett’s gleeful smile nearly leaped off her rouged face. I did not bother to turn to see who else stared at us. Everyone had heard.
“Olivia.” I choked on her name. “You cannot say such a thing.”
She squashed her brows together. “But you said it, outside when we were—”
My eyes widened to an alarming extent, and she stopped, perhaps at last realizing how far her voice was carrying. Mama cleared her throat beside me. I was sure to receive a few choice words from her on our ride home.
Lieutenant Avery said nothing, to my surprise and annoyance. My face was hot as the summer sun, and he did not even bother to correct his sister. In fact—
He was laughing. Not out loud, of course, or he’d invite the censure that was now focused so horribly on me. But a grin battled his face for dominance, and his eyes danced.
I stared at him. Then, though I fought it with a fury, my own lips twitched. Blast it all. I should not find this funny. His sister had just embarrassed me in front of the entire parish, and he hadn’t said a word of reproach. And yet, as the congregation began to rise around us, voices blessedly filling the silence, Lieutenant Avery continued to grin at me, and I, for the life of me, wanted very much to grin back.
Thankfully, Mama elbowed me and stopped me from committing that egregious error. We all stood and filed out of the church. I wasn’t certain if Mr. Porter had heard Olivia’s comment, but I skirted behind Mama as she greeted him at the church doors. Better to avoid him altogether.
“Is that the infamous neighbor girl?” Juliana asked me in a low tone as she followed me out. Lieutenant Avery and Olivia stopped a short distance away, and it seemed as though he was finally delivering the reprimand she deserved, though he spoke in a low tone and appeared more serious than angry. She stood with her hands clenched in her skirts, her eyes downcast.
“Yes,” I confirmed to Juliana. William stood beside Mama at the church doors, still conversing with the vicar. “Olivia Avery.”
“Hm.” She studied Olivia, one hand atop her growing belly. “She looks sad.”
“She ought to,” I said. “Or did you not hear what she said?”
“Oh, I heard very well. William had to bite his tongue not to laugh, seeing the hot water you found yourself in.”
“It would do him good to be in trouble.” I tucked my prayer book into my reticule. “I am always in Mama’s black books, while he remains the favored son.”
“I would be the wrong person to complain to about that,” she said with a nudge of her arm.
“Clearly, since you were foolish enough to fall in love with him.”
“Foolish?” Juliana repeated. “I think that was the most intelligent decision I’ve ever made.”
She patted me on the arm before moving to greet her friend Sophie, who worked as the cook at Juliana’s boarding school. Sophie slipped an arm through Juliana’s, and the two of them fell into conversation, heads bent together. I spotted Sarah Mason across the churchyard, flirting with a young man I vaguely recognized. Mr. Colton? Mr. Casper? Mr. C-something, I was sure. She would not appreciate an interrupti
on from me.
I crossed my arms over my stomach, digging the tip of my boot into the soft earth. The chatter of the congregation filled the warm summer air around me, and it ought to have brought me contentment, yet I watched it all from afar. I knew most of these people from visits to Havenfield over the years, but my connection to them suddenly felt shallow, lacking. I missed Edward, Marjorie, my friends in London. I loved Havenfield, I did. But I wasn’t certain I loved living here.
It hardly mattered. I would soon be married and living far from here. Edward owned a lovely estate in Lancashire, and I would be its mistress. I could find my own place, my own friends rather than building upon the lives of others.
“I hope Olivia has not ostracized you from the town.” Lieutenant Avery joined me, his hands clasped behind his back.
“No, not yet,” I managed. “Though she undoubtedly tried her best.”
“That she did. And I’m afraid I did not help much.”
I sent him a mock glare. “You certainly did not, laughing at me when I was already in trouble.”
“Yet another apology I owe you,” he said. “But I hadn’t imagined for a moment she would say such a thing, and the look on your face . . .” He chuckled as if reliving the moment. “I should not have laughed, but you can hardly blame me.”
“I wish I could blame you. But this was my fault entirely. I tried to reach Olivia using my dislike for the vicar, and that was a lapse in judgment I won’t soon forget.”
“Nor will I.” He leaned toward me. “And Olivia will not forget that you promised her a basket of strawberry tarts.”
“Ah, so my bribe worked better than I thought.”
“It worked too well,” he said. “She already asked if I will provide plum pudding after next week’s service.”
I laughed. I could not help it. Mama always said I was like Papa in that way, that he had laughed more than he’d talked. It was, to me, a lovely way to be remembered. And I liked to think a bit of me grew closer to heaven—to Papa—with every laugh.
“I am sorry,” I said, still chuckling. “I did not mean to set such a precedent.”
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