Lifting his eyebrow, Isaac tapped the arm of the couch with one finger. “Who has fooled everyone?”
“Grace.” Jacob rubbed at his forehead with one hand and leaned back. “Grace and Hope switched places before the Carlburys left. Hope went with them, pretending to be Grace. Grace stayed here and has tricked the entire neighborhood into believing she is Hope.”
For several seconds, Isaac simply stared at Jacob. “Confound it,” he muttered at last. “I should have noticed.”
Though privately agreeing, Jacob said nothing aloud. “She received word yesterday that Hope is gone from the country, so I imagine she will soon reveal herself. But as I leave in the morning, and I am the only one who knew, I thought I should tell you. In case Grace needs anything.”
“Of course. Anything for either Everly.” Isaac’s eyes narrowed and he tilted his head back. “How did you know about the switch? I cannot imagine they involved you in the idea. You are far too honest.”
Jacob sunk further into his seat. “I figured it out myself.”
“Ah.” Isaac tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair.
Had Jacob’s friend nothing else to say on the matter? It did not satisfy the man about to turn vicar. “I cannot believe Grace would do such a thing. It is completely out of character for her to behave in such a devious manner. I might have believed it from Hope.”
That made Isaac grin. “Is that really what you think? I daresay, they would have been discovered sooner had it been Hope’s idea. She is more like me. We act without rehearsing or thinking through our plans. At least, I used to be that way. A captaincy in the army changed that aspect of my life somewhat.” He raised his hand to rub the back of his neck. “The whole of it must have been Grace’s idea. Grace is the strategist in our group, you know. She always has been.”
Although Jacob opened his mouth to argue, he closed it almost directly. A dozen instances of Grace quietly offering her suggestions for their childhood exploits came to mind. Silas led them, but Grace had made sure everyone knew which direction to go.
“I would have given a great deal to have a mind like hers while we were in France.” Isaac finally turned again to grin at Jacob, but the cheerful expression wilted. “You seem upset about this. Why?”
“How can you not be?” Jacob countered. “She came into your house, perpetuating a fraud. She tricked everyone for days. Disobeyed her parents by staying when she should have gone.”
“You object to her actions from a moral standpoint. Yes, I suppose you must.” Isaac shifted to better face Jacob, leaning into the corner of the couch. “She has not hurt anyone by her actions, surely?”
“Not that I am aware. But how will anyone trust her again?”
“Is that all you’re worried about? Give it time. People will gossip about the situation now and again, but no one who knows Grace will truly doubt her honesty. Do you doubt it?” Isaac asked the question with his grin returning. “For myself, I plan to congratulate her.”
The flippant response pushed Jacob’s indignation further. He rose from his seat and paced before the fire. “Why? She has done nothing noble, nothing good, only acted selfishly.” He expected so much more from Grace.
“And? We all behave selfishly now and again, do we not?” Isaac kept trying to find humor in the situation, but Jacob could not allow for that. He could not laugh at it. “Jacob, you must forgive her for hurting your sensibilities. I thought it the worst possible thing when I learned Grace was to be sent away. Anyone who knows her must recognize what a torture it would be to send Grace Everly into the wild places of the world. She is content here, in Aldersy.”
Still pacing, Jacob threw up his hands. “That is not the point. The lies, the deception, those are what people will use to condemn her.”
The next words from Isaac came out sharply. “And how her actions distanced you from Hope? Is that what bothers you most?”
That stopped Jacob mid-step. He folded his arms and turned on his heel to face the baronet. “You knew about that, too?”
“It’s an arm I’ve lost, not my eyes,” Isaac muttered. “Come off it, Jacob. As much as we all admire Hope’s spirit, she was never meant for any of us. Not you, and not me.”
Jacob’s head snapped back in his surprise. “Not you? Are you saying that you—?”
“Years ago.” Isaac lifted both shoulders in a shrug, and his grin turned self-depreciating. “I actually said something to her about it once. Hinted that we might make a fine pair. Hope laughed and bid me never speak of such nonsense again. She was right. We are too alike, she and I. We would’ve driven each other mad. Hope needs someone who can love her nature and give her freedom. Neither of us are in the position for that.” Isaac did not seem overly upset about it.
Really, Jacob wasn’t either. He was more upset everyone seemingly noticed his feelings and never said a word about it to him before.
Perhaps he ought to trust Isaac with more of his concerns. If anyone could help Jacob set his mind and heart at ease, it would be one of his friends.
“At first, I was upset about Hope leaving.” That much Jacob could admit. “But I have been confused of late over someone else entirely. You see, I think—it is entirely possible—that I have feelings for Grace.” He dropped his hands limply to his sides. He had known Grace forever. How could his feelings change for her now?
Isaac gawked unabashedly at him. “That should be good news,” he finally said. “Since she feels the same.”
Jacob scoffed at that. “I doubt it. I meant to tell her yesterday when I saw her and ask if she might see me as more than a friend.”
“What stopped you?” Isaac gaped at Jacob as though he were a lackwit.
Given that Isaac immediately knew the whole plan was Grace’s, Jacob felt rather unintelligent admitting that the revelation had silenced him. He settled for giving only part of the explanation. “I am to be the vicar. People will look to me as an example and hold me to a higher standard than other men. When they learn about her deception, if I courted her, it might cause them to doubt me. A vicar and his wife must be above reproach.”
“That is possibly the stupidest thing I have ever heard.” Isaac leveraged himself off the couch and glared at Jacob. “You are the one about to be ordained, but it seems I need to remind you of something you will be preaching ere long. ‘Judge not, lest ye be judged.’ No man or woman is perfect, and we all have our faults and failings. ‘Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.’ You see? Perhaps I should have gone into the church instead of the army.”
Jacob stared at his friend, taken aback and uncertain how to respond.
Isaac glared back, unflinching. “Grace is our friend. She did something you cannot like, but I believe she had excellent motivation. I know no one on this earth so good as Grace, excepting you.”
The compliment chastened Jacob. His thoughts toward Hope, and then Grace, had not been charitable. They had been seasoned with anger and disappointment.
“If you are her friend, you will stand beside her,” Isaac said when Jacob remained quiet. “And if you harbor more for her in your heart, then you will forgive her.” He put his hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “You are my friend, too. Tomorrow you leave for your ordination. You will have time to think on all of this, and I will look after things in the meantime.”
Thinking. Yes, Jacob had plenty of time for that.
Chapter 18
The two days in her room passed slowly. While sitting amongst familiar things gave Grace comfort, not knowing what happened outside her doors and windows drove her to distraction. Jacob would have left for his ordination, that she knew.
The servants had been informed of her true identity. Susan called Grace by name, reproachfully, while attending to her. Cook sent up trays of Grace’s favorite foods, but the portions were unusually small, something Grace suspected Cook did on purpose. Grace was given enough to eat, but her favorite jam did not quite cover her toast, and her favorite roast lamb did not take up as much space on
her plate as the boiled carrots.
If the servants knew, then the gossip had likely spread to everyone.
The morning of the third day, Grace’s father sent for her to attend him in his study. As soon as Grace was dressed, in her favorite blue gown, she went to him.
Rain had fallen most of the morning, and the clouds remaining in the sky meant Papa’s study was pale and gray even with the open curtains.
Papa sat in a chair this time, and he gestured for her to join him in the seat near his. “Grace,” he said, his tone more weary than strict. “I trust you have taken the time these past two days to contemplate your actions?”
“Yes, Papa.” She folded her hands in her lap, unwilling to tell him she did not regret her actions. Not unless he asked.
He sighed and removed his spectacles, tucking them into his coat. “I have given a great deal of thought to the situation as well. I have written a letter to Hope, and to the Carlburys. It will not reach them for weeks, perhaps months, but I felt it my duty to explain the situation to them. I also wrote to your mother, and I urge you to do the same. She should not be kept in ignorance of the situation, and I feel you ought to apologize for the disregard you have shown her in this matter.”
“Yes, Papa. I will write her.” Truthfully, she had started several letters to her mother only to give up after a few lines. She had cut the start of each letter off the paper until she had been left with a square too small to do any sort of explanation justice.
Papa sighed and rubbed his forehead, then dropped his hand onto the arm of the chair. “It is done, and there is little I can do to remedy the situation. Tomorrow is Sunday. I have asked Mr. Spratt if he will allow you a moment after services to speak to those assembled. It is an extraordinary request, but he agreed. I expect you to make a public apology and explanation for your actions. You may write it out if you wish, but it will be done.”
The room went cold, and Grace shuddered. “Papa, in front of everyone—”
“Yes, in front of everyone. You pretended to be your sister for all the world to see, you can offer up your confession and the truth in a similar manner.” His expression hardened and he leaned forward, his deep blue eyes a match for hers. “I am severely disappointed in you, Grace. You have never acted in such a manner that gave me cause to feel ashamed of you.”
“There was no other way,” she said, clenching her hands together. Her voice shook, her emotion spilling forth in a humiliating manner. “Papa, there was nothing else I could do to save myself. You would not listen to argument; you did not care what I wished or feared. I would rather have been locked in the attics than be sent so far. You know that, and you did not care.”
Her father stared at her, posture stiffening, before abruptly looking away. He said nothing. Did he think to dismiss her with silence? Papa loved her. He must listen.
Getting control of herself, Grace lowered her tone. “I know you think I am small, and weak, and shy. But it is not so, Papa. My friends care for me, they respect me. I am important, my feelings are important. You would not force me to leave your house in order to wed a man I did not like. Why would you send me into the world in a manner that you know would sicken me? Your anger with Hope may have been deserved, but the punishment of keeping her away from what she wished had nothing to do with sentencing me to misery.”
When he still said nothing, his hands flexing in his lap the only sign he had not turned into a wax figure, Grace stood. “I know you are upset with me, but I hope you can also understand my actions. I did not do anything in order to disrespect you, but to save myself from misery, as any creature with a heart would.” Then she dared to step forward and kiss him upon his cheek. He smelled of strawberries and tobacco, comforting scents. He did not pull away or flinch. That gave her some comfort.
Grace withdrew from the room, her mind upon what she must say in the morning after Mr. Spratt’s sermon. At least it was not his last. It would be a shame to mar the final Sunday he presided over their congregation with a mortifying public display.
Taking in a deep breath, Grace turned from the stairs and went out into the garden. She lifted a shawl from the hook on the way out but did not pause to do more. She had not been outside in days, and a walk through their little gardens would suit her nicely.
She went out the front door, intending to walk around the house to access the gardens, but she paused when she saw a horse and rider coming up the lane. The horse was not familiar to her, and the man upon its back did not look like one of her friends.
The rider saw her and increased his horse’s speed with purpose. It was Lord Neil, son of the Marquess. What business did he have at the Refuge? Although tempted to withdraw, her interview with her father had bolstered her spirits. She pulled the shawl tighter about herself and lifted her chin in the air, prepared to do battle.
Lord Neil pulled up short of her position. “Ah, Miss Grace, the very person I hoped to see.” His broken arm was in a sling, keeping it still and tight against his chest. His free hand held the reins of the horse in a firm grip. “You will excuse me if I do not dismount. My errand is short, and it is dashedly difficult to mount with one arm and no groom.”
“Perhaps you ought to ask Sir Isaac how he manages,” Grace said tartly, then bit her tongue. Throwing her friend’s injury out as some kind of challenge showed Isaac little compassion or respect. She lowered her eyes to the ground where the horse’s hoof pawed at the gravel.
The nobleman surprised her with a chuckle. “I might do just that.” Then he cleared his throat and she saw his riding boot twitch. “As I have said, it is you I have come to see. I have heard about what you and your sister did, trading identities.”
Grace nodded, wondering if he expected an apology of some sort. They had thwarted the punishment given for causing his injury, after all.
“I wanted to tell you that I thought it was cleverly done, and I harbor no resentment toward either of you.”
His words surprised her into looking up, a protest rising to her lips. He could not be serious. Lord Neil had ever been a rascal, after all, and often made things difficult for others. Yet Grace studied his face before speaking, taking in the bend of his eyebrows and the intensity of his stare.
“My lord, you have come to compliment me on my duplicity?” If ever there was an indication she had done something wrong, it would be Lord Neil’s approval.
“It may be better to say I do not condemn them.” He offered her a tight smile. “My sister went on something of a tirade when she heard of the matter, and I wanted to make certain you knew I did not feel the same. The whole situation might be viewed as something of a joke, you know.”
What was she to make of such a pronouncement? “I thank you, my lord.” She did not bother to hide her skepticism and he actually grinned at her.
“There is gossip, Miss Grace. Or Miss Everly, I suppose, with your sister gone away. People are speculating your reasons for such a thing. They are also saying it is a grave insult to my father, to Olivia, and to myself that your sister escaped punishment for my injury. I have done what I could to placate my sister, and I have assured anyone who has spoken to me that I feel no ill will toward you.”
Still unable to believe him, Grace barely offered up the polite and expected words. “I thank you for that, my lord.”
Lord Neil took up the reins and his horse stepped to the side in response. His lordship’s face changed again, looking more serious. “I realize I am not often a pleasant person, Miss Everly. But I give you my word, today I speak sincerely. Good morning to you.” He nodded deeply and when she returned the farewell he turned his horse about and left.
Watching him go down the lane, Grace narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “I suppose he could have made my life more difficult,” she said aloud, still trying to puzzle him out. While Lord Neil had never done anything explicitly rude toward her, she knew he and her dear friend Silas had many fractious encounters. The most recent of which involved Lord Neil’s flirtation with Silas’s
wife, Esther.
Whatever the man was about, she had no wish to know the particulars. Hoping he had been sincere to her was all she could do.
The sun peeked out from behind the gray swath of clouds, giving her a moment of brightness. Squaring her shoulders, Grace continued on her way, determined still to take her walk and enjoy the rain-freshened garden.
The next morning, Grace prepared for services with her usual care. She dressed modestly, in shades of cool green that reminded her of spring. Susan did her hair in intricate twists which would allow curls to escape from her bonnet in a fetching manner. When she came down the stairs, her father gave her an odd look before he led her outside to the gig.
The church was not far, and in previous years their family had walked because Papa insisted it wore the children out enough that they would sit still during the sermon.
Papa had hardly spoken to her at dinner the night before, but when he did speak he was polite. There was no frustration in his voice anymore. Though Grace may have imagined it, she thought he had even begun to look at her with something like understanding. One day, he might speak to her of her choices again, but she doubted another word would be said on the matter once she made her apology to the neighborhood.
Grace admired the church anew as they approached it. The old stone building had long ago been a Catholic chapel, built the year before King Henry VIII decreed himself independent of Rome and the Pope. Despite the church’s age, it still served their parish well. The fine cut of the stone, the ancient stained glass, gave the smallish building distinction and beauty.
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.
Discovering Grace: A Regency Romance (Inglewood Book 2) Page 18