The Bride of Ivy Green

by Julie Klassen

  When all was ready, Mr. Valcourt said, “Shall we begin?”

  He explained a few points of dance etiquette and posture to Alice, then said, “Let’s begin with a simple longways dance for two couples. Mr. Drake, if you will dance with your daughter, I shall partner Miss Grove.”

  “With pleasure. May I have this dance, my fair lady?” James bowed in courtly address to Alice, who giggled and curtsied in turn.

  Their playful affection warmed Mercy’s heart.

  Mr. Valcourt walked them through the steps. Mercy faltered, nervous to dance with this expert. But the handsome man was all ease and encouragement.

  He said, “Circle four hands once around. Then first corners change places. Then second corners likewise. Well done, Miss Alice. Now, first couple leads down the center, then back, then cast down one place. . . .”

  Mr. Valcourt continued his instructions. Mercy struggled a bit, but elegant James Drake glided smoothly through the steps. He’d likely had dancing lessons as part of his education. She had too but was woefully out of practice.

  Mr. Valcourt said, “Now, let’s try it to music. My dear, if you will oblige us?”

  Mrs. Valcourt moved to the pianoforte. “I don’t play often or skillfully, so please don’t listen too closely.”

  Mr. Valcourt smiled his thanks, then turned back to the others. “I will call out the steps the first time. Ready?”

  His wife launched into the jaunty introduction, then he called out the first step. After a few minutes, Mercy mastered the simple pattern and began to relax and enjoy herself.

  When the tune ended, Mr. Valcourt applauded. “Well done, all of you. Shall we try another?”

  “Yes, let’s do!” Alice enthused.

  “Very well. But first, let’s change partners.” Mr. Valcourt grinned at Alice. “I want a chance to dance with my new prized pupil.”

  Again Alice giggled and curtsied.

  Mr. Drake moved to Mercy’s side without comment.

  Mr. Valcourt explained the next dance, and then they walked through the sequence twice without music.

  Mercy felt self-conscious dancing with her employer but found she enjoyed the feel of Mr. Drake’s smooth hands holding hers, and the way he smiled into her eyes whenever the pattern brought them face-to-face. She also liked the way he bent low to gently take Alice’s hands when directed to change places with his corner.

  When Mr. Valcourt thought they were ready, he signaled to his wife, who again played while the four of them danced.

  Alice beamed brightly through it all, clearly enjoying the attention and the pleasure of moving to music.

  The door opened, and Mr. Kingsley appeared in the threshold, mouth parted in surprise. Seeing him, Mercy stumbled, then turned the wrong way, but Mr. Drake gently prodded her in the right direction.

  Noticing the newcomer, Mrs. Valcourt stopped playing.

  Mr. Kingsley raised a hand. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  James released Mercy’s hand and asked, “Did you need something, Kingsley?”

  Joseph’s gaze shifted toward Mercy, then away again. “I was only looking for . . . something. But . . . never mind. Go on with your dance.”

  With a jolt of guilt, Mercy remembered. They had tentatively planned to meet for tea in the sitting room after Alice had gone to bed. The girl’s bedtime had come and gone. Mercy’d had no idea dinner with guests would last so long.

  “It’s an impromptu lesson,” she blurted. “For Alice.”

  “In fact, you are just in time, my friend,” Mr. Valcourt offered. “We could use another man.”

  “Me? Heavens, no. I’m only the builder.”

  “You would likely catch on faster than I have, Mr. Kingsley,” Mercy said, hoping to put him at his ease. “I have little sense of rhythm.”

  The dancing master said kindly, “Not at all, Miss Grove. Come and join us . . . Mr. Kingsley, was it?”

  “No, thank you. I can’t stay. Again I apologize for interrupting. Good night.”

  He turned and left, shutting the door behind him. Disappointment washed over Mercy. But perhaps it was for the best. Would it not be even more awkward to dance with this man she admired in front of Mr. Drake and his guests? At that thought, she glanced over and was disconcerted to find Mr. Drake studying her with interest and perhaps understanding.

  chapter

  Twenty-Seven

  When Mercy entered the schoolroom the next morning, she drew in a breath at an unexpected sight: a jar of lily of the valley on her desk, just like the ones that grew at Ivy Cottage. She walked closer, admiring the bell-like flowers, and felt her heart warm.

  Alice bounded in, wearing a brand-new dress. Mercy asked her, “Did you pick these for me, Alice?”

  “No.” The girl joined her at the desk and bent her nose to the fragrant flowers. “Mmm . . . they smell good.”

  “Yes. It’s just that I remember telling you they were one of my favorites. Did you happen to mention that to Mr. Drake, perhaps, or . . . ?”

  The girl shrugged. “I may have done. Or Mr. Kingsley. I tell them both everything.”

  “I see. Well.” Mercy feigned nonchalance. “Thank you to whoever left them.”

  Alice turned to her. “We could ask them which it was.”

  “No, thank you, Alice. Never mind.” How embarrassing to ask the wrong man if he had given her flowers! She gestured the girl toward the table. “Now, let’s eat our breakfast before it grows cold.”

  Together, they ate the meal Iris delivered: porridge, hard-boiled eggs, toast, and jam. While she nibbled, Mercy’s gaze kept returning to the flowers.

  After their prayers and lessons, Mercy gave Alice her usual midmorning recess.

  “I am going to show Papa my new dress!”

  Alice jogged eagerly down the stairs, while Mercy followed more sedately behind her. She reached the office in time to hear James say, “Another new dress?”

  Joining them, Mercy explained, “Your mother sent it.”

  Alice held out the embroidered skirt. “Do I look pretty?”

  “You were already pretty,” he said patiently. “New dress or not.”

  “I think it’s the prettiest yet. I’m going to show Johnny.” Alice whirled and ran out of the room.

  “Poor Johnny,” he murmured, then looked up at Mercy. “I suppose I should have been more effusive in my praise? I confess I fear it will make her vain if I compliment her looks too often.”

  “I don’t think so. . . . Not if you compliment more than her beauty. Praise her when she works hard, or helps someone, or does something selfless.”

  He nodded. “Sounds like good advice. Thank you. Is that what your father did with you?”

  “Perhaps not about my looks, but in other ways, yes.”

  James blew a breath through puffed cheeks. “Heavy burden, this fatherhood business.” He leaned back in his chair, gesturing for her to take a seat.

  “True,” Mercy allowed. “But you don’t need to be perfect.” She sat across from him. “My father was not a perfect man, but I never doubted he loved me. I may have been riddled with insecurities about my looks, but thanks to him I never doubted I was intelligent and capable of goodness and kindness as well as accomplishment.”

  Mercy sighed, thinking of some of her former pupils, now grown. “Heaven help the poor girls who have no notion of their value in a loving father’s eyes. Many spend their lives trying to find affection and approval from men in all sorts of damaging ways.”

  He flinched. “A sobering thought. I am certain I will make many mistakes, but Alice will never doubt how much I love and value her, whether she accomplishes anything in the world’s view or not.”

  Mercy nodded, touched by his words. “I believe you.”

  He stared into the fire for several moments, fingers tightly clenched around his coffee cup. “And what about a man who has never known approval or affection from his father?”

  Mercy looked at him. In his ducked head and slumped post
ure she saw the dejected young boy he’d once been. She said gently, “I suppose he . . . spends his life buying bigger and bigger hotels.”

  He gave her a crooked grin at that, and Mercy returned it.

  Now that Justina was officially engaged, Rachel accompanied her and her mother back to Victorine’s for the first fitting.

  Victorine welcomed them, then offered them tea. Lady Barbara accepted and sat on the sofa.

  Was it Rachel’s imagination, or did Victorine’s hand tremble slightly as she poured? Why was she so nervous? Rachel smiled at the dressmaker, hoping to help put her at ease.

  Once Lady Barbara and Rachel were seated with their teacups, Victorine helped Justina out of her walking dress and petticoats to better measure her figure. The young woman stood in front of the cheval mirror in her chemise and long stays, slender and lovely, but Rachel thought she glimpsed sadness in her eyes.

  Rachel wondered if she should press Justina about the engagement to be sure the girl’s heart was truly in it. But she worried interfering would only evoke doubt where, perhaps, none belonged. It would also surely evoke Lady Barbara’s disapproval, and perhaps Timothy’s too. Clasping her hands, Rachel again resolved to be supportive of Justina’s decision. She just hoped it was the right one.

  Victorine began draping a long piece of material over one of Justina’s shoulders, pinning the front to the neckline of her chemise.

  She said, “Now that we’ve agreed on the design from the drawings, I thought I would begin by making a pattern for the bodice, which will be the most difficult and must fit perfectly.”

  Lady Barbara wrinkled her nose. “What is that horrid material? Tell me you are not thinking of using that.”

  The material, a garish shade of yellow printed with a haphazard pattern of pineapples and cherries, was singularly unattractive, Rachel could not deny.

  “No, my lady. This is simply a remnant left behind by Mrs. Shabner.”

  As she explained, Victorine pinned a second piece over Justina’s other shoulder, then joined and pinned it to the first. “I plan to make a pattern for the gown from this material. I will then use that pattern to cut the actual material. This step will give me a more accurate estimate of how many yards I shall need of the satin, as well as the netting, cording, and lining.”

  Lady Barbara frowned. “That is not how my dressmaker does it. She drapes the material right on my person and—”

  “Mamma, we are not here to criticize,” Justina interrupted. “I am sure each dressmaker has her own methods.” The girl smiled encouragement at Victorine, then said, “I was thinking, madame . . . What about a layer of white moravian work in cambric at the neckline?”

  Her mother frowned again. “We are discussing a wedding gown, Justina, not a new petticoat.”

  Undeterred, Justina said, “Then . . . how about Vandyke ornaments and net oversleeves? Oh! And scalloped flounces at the hem?”

  Victorine hesitated. “Those were not in the drawings we agreed to, miss. I would need to redraw and refigure materials.”

  Lady Barbara said, “Again, my dressmaker would have no difficulty accommodating her customer’s wishes.”

  Victorine swallowed. “Of course, my lady. Whatever you like.”

  After pinning the bodice to the desired shape, Victorine measured Justina’s arms, hips, and the length from bosom to floor.

  She extracted the pins holding the pattern to the girl’s chemise, then carefully removed the model bodice. “That is all I should need for now. Besides the . . . advance. I shall send word when I am ready for the next fitting.”

  Lady Barbara handed her a bank draft. “I would demand a more certain completion date,” the dowager said. “But as my daughter has yet to name her wedding day, we shall await your pleasure.” Sarcasm colored the last words, but they all pretended not to notice.

  Later that day, Mercy and Alice sat at one of the inlaid game tables, finishing a game of draughts. Then Alice went outside to play with the kittens, giving Mercy a welcome respite between games. In the adjacent entry hall, James Drake stood near the desk, talking to his clerk.

  Two men walked through the front door and, seeing Mr. Drake, broke into broad smiles.

  “JD, you old Corinthian,” the tall, dark-haired one exclaimed. “How are you, old swell?”

  The stout one added, “Still conquering the world one business at a time, I see.”

  “Rupert and Max,” Mr. Drake greeted. “What a surprise.”

  “It’s been too long since you visited us, so we decided to come and visit you. We saw your father at the club. He told us about your little project here. Can’t say he approves, you know.”

  James stiffened. “That’s nothing new.” He gestured to the soaring reception room. “Just opening a country hotel.”

  The stout one looked around. “Very grand. But why am I surprised? You are a Hain-Drake, after all, and everything you touch turns to gold.”

  “There is a bit more to it than that, Max,” James said. “But I am glad the Fairmont meets with your approval.”

  “Will you put us up, JD?” Rupert asked. “Or have you no room in the inn for your old friends?”

  “You are very welcome. I have a few completed rooms available, if you’d each like your own.”

  Rupert said, “Perfect. The last inn put us together with two other gentlemen—and I use that term loosely. Barely room for me and their protruding bellies. Poor Max ended up on the floor.”

  “Vile place.” Max shuddered. He looked around the elegant hall with its lush furnishings once more, his gaze skimming past Mercy as though she were invisible. “But I could get used to this. I might never leave. . . .”

  James turned his face away—to hide a grimace, perhaps—and rang a bell on the reception desk.

  The porter appeared. “Theo here will show you to your rooms.” He handed over the keys. “If you are not too tired from your journey, I’d like to invite you to join me for dinner.”

  “Of course we’ll join you,” Max said. “It’s why we are here, after all.”

  “Excellent.” James managed a smile. “Shall we say seven?”

  As the porter led the two away, James glanced back and noticed Mercy sitting there. He came and flopped down into the chair beside hers.

  “Two old friends of mine have just arrived unexpectedly.”

  “So I gathered.” She watched his face. “The surprise is not a pleasant one?”

  He glanced up to make sure the men were out of earshot. “Not especially, no. The fellows were pleasant enough companions in my university days, but we have little in common now.” He sighed. “Considering how . . . indiscreet they can be when foxed, I think one of the private parlours might be best.”

  He looked at her. “Though I hope that with you and Alice there, the men will moderate their behavior.”

  She glanced at him warily, thinking, Not another dinner!

  Unaware, he continued. “Where is Alice, by the way? Out with Johnny and the kittens again?”

  She nodded.

  “I should have guessed.”

  Mercy said, “I understand why you want Alice there. But no one expects the governess to dine with family and friends. I know we usually eat together, and it is very kind of you to include me. However, I think it would be better if only Alice joined you on this occasion.”

  “I have not included you in our little family dinners out of kindness, Mercy, but because Alice enjoys your company.” His green eyes held hers. “And so do I.”

  Mercy looked away first. “I have enjoyed those meals together as well. But I confess the thought of joining you and your fashionable friends is a daunting prospect.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Mercy Grove. Don’t forget you are a gentlewoman of good breeding and superior education, from an old, respectable family. Not to mention, you have lovely eyes and one of the most beautiful smiles I have ever seen. You are in no way inferior to those two, I assure you.”

  She looked up at
him from beneath her lashes, embarrassed but pleased. “You are generous, Mr. Drake. But my family, though old, is not particularly esteemed, except here in Ivy Hill. I realize you flatter me to bolster my confidence, so I will join you tonight.” She gave him a knowing grin. “You must really feel you need reinforcements at dinner, so I will oblige you. And if the conversation turns . . . indiscreet, I will be there to escort Alice up to bed.”

  “Good point.”

  Mercy rose. “Is there anything special you would like Alice to wear? She’ll be eager to make a good first impression.”

  “Whatever you think best.”

  As Mercy walked upstairs, she wondered what she should wear. She decided on the willow green. Most of her gowns were designed to blend in, but on this occasion, she would need all the confidence she could muster.

  Iris helped Mercy dress and remained longer to arrange her hair, having caught wind of the special occasion. Alice’s hair too was curled with the hot iron, and together Mercy and the maid helped the girl change into a sweet gown of blush pink.

  When the time arrived, Mercy walked Alice downstairs, hand in hand. Her own palm was damp, and she held Alice’s hand as much to reassure herself as the child. Alice, for her part, seemed more excited than nervous. Her manner displayed increasing confidence in Mr. Drake’s affections, though she still felt uneasy about having to make conversation with adults—especially strangers. Mercy didn’t blame her. In this instance, she felt uneasy too.

  Through the open door to the largest private parlour, Mercy saw the men clustered around a decanter on the sideboard. James turned when Mercy and Alice entered, and noticing, the others turned as well.

  “There you are.” James’s smile encompassed both Alice and Mercy, but his appreciative gaze lingered on her in the green dress. “Come, let me introduce you.”

  He turned to the others. “Old friends, allow me to introduce two new and special additions to my life. This charming young lady is Alice, my adopted daughter. And this is Miss Grove, her teacher.”