“Were you there visiting the area with your family?”
“No, ma’am. I’ve worked at Everston since my parents both passed away last winter. Dexter knew my father, as he had a small hotel in a neighboring town. He offered me one of the most coveted positions at Everston, the front desk.”
“How fortunate it is that Dexter took you in. He does take such good care of Everston.” Natalia took one of the last tea cakes. “If you don’t mind my asking, what was your family’s hotel like?”
“It was my mother’s family’s homestead from generations ago—a large brick farmhouse surrounded by acres upon acres of woods. With the railroad coming through, business picked up in the area, so my father turned from not only practicing law in town, but also becoming an innkeeper alongside my mother, transforming our home into an inn.”
“Was he also from that area?” Madame Boutilier asked.
“He was from Westborough, Massachusetts, ma’am. He met my mother—who was from that area—while staying at Everston when the hotel was newly constructed.”
“How delightful! So Everston had a part in bringing your parents together, just as it brought you and Vance together?” Natalia’s genuine, happy smile helped make up for the fact that Madame Boutilier had hardly said a word throughout the interview.
As if realizing she’d let Natalia handle the entire exchange, she added, “Although we didn’t remember that you were once one of Dexter’s employees, I do remember that Estella has always been fond of you. That speaks volumes when it comes to…well, when it comes to your being engaged to Vance.”
“Even when it came to me giving in to him.” Oh, that didn’t sound right. I hastened to correct myself. “I mean: he was persistent, and he didn’t seem to care what my family’s lot had been, or that I now had nothing. He knew what he wanted to do, it seemed, and it has a lot to do with his faith. I know it’s extremely important to him to be equally yoked in marriage to another believer—which I am.”
What a muddle I was creating! I wondered if I sounded as ridiculous as I felt trying to balance that fine line between truth and fiction. Everything I’d said was true, but in an effort to make them believe something that wasn’t real—that Vance and I were genuinely in love. And it was trying! Would they ever believe that Vance would fall for someone as ill-suited for his family as I was?
“He has changed so drastically in the last few months. And partly on account of our brother’s death last summer, and then later on, Dexter’s preaching while Vance attended services at Everston’s Leightner Hollow last autumn.” Natalia set her teacup down, and I finished the last bit of my own tea. “I’m so glad he has you now, Violet, and that he’s come back to Boston. It’s been so long since he’s been a part of our family.”
So that was the secret to my ready acceptance.
I hoped I’d prove to be worth it.
***
Finally, after it seemed I’d passed all of Natalia’s tests, I was shown to my room on the third floor of the gigantic brick mansion.
Everwood was like no other house I’d ever seen. On the corner of two popular streets in Back Bay. It was at least six or seven stories tall—taller than Everston, even—and had a stable and a high, walled-in courtyard in the back. I knew this because that was the view from the many windows of my bedroom.
The room itself was more than I could have ever asked for—a full-size wooden-framed bed with a six-foot-tall headboard, all intricately hand-carved; a fireplace across the room made from white marble; and even a bathroom! My very own bathroom!
Madame Boutilier had informed me on the way up to my room that Vance insisted on hiring her Parisian dressmaker, who happened to be in Boston, to fashion me a new wardrobe—and that a fitting was scheduled for that very afternoon.
I now looked ruefully down at my best dress. I was sure I hadn’t impressed anyone on that count, but they seemed to still like me well enough.
And it was true; what seemed to matter most of all was that I was a Christian and that Vance loved me. Hopefully, if they ever did find out why Vance wanted to marry me so badly, they would believe the truth and still believe my desire to live a godly life.
And his too.
9
The Everwood Library
“I understand the language of his countenance and movements;
though rank and wealth sever us widely.”
—Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
Estella and Dexter had returned from Hilldreth Manor just in time for Estella to join Amaryllis and me for my fitting. And it turned out that the three of us together had a genuinely fun time picking out the materials and patterns for my new dresses. By the time we were finished, I was beginning to feel as if I’d become engaged to a prince.
Vance and I were allowed to spend some time before dinner together. Even without any purposeful theatrics of being rapturously in love with each other, everyone seemed to take it for granted that we would grab whatever time we could to be alone, which I was grateful for.
The dressmaker had brought a few samples of her creations, and, when she saw the sorry state of my only gown, insisted I keep the best fitting ones to wear until a few of my own gowns were finished.
So, instead of joining Vance in the study as he’d last seen me, I walked in wearing one of the finest gowns I’d ever seen. It was a light green and yellow creation with lots of pretty folds, ruffles, and lace—and a much lower neckline than I was used to, baring half my shoulders and my collarbone. I had hardly recognized the girl I saw in the mirror. Who knew what a difference a whalebone corset would make to my figure?
I assumed it wasn’t exactly the kind of dress one wore just sitting around the house, but Estella and Amaryllis both insisted it was perfectly acceptable for dinner. And I did look forward to Vance’s seeing me in something besides the few old dresses I’d worn in his presence so far.
Upon coming into the two-story, echo-filled library, I quickly closed the door behind me. The pocket door thundered harder and louder than I thought, and I jumped noticeably.
Vance chuckled from across the long room where he sat.
When I spun around, I saw that he had a finger marking his spot in the same Bible he seemed to take everywhere.
As I walked toward him, he began reading again. I steered around a few tables and chairs and came to stand before the desk he sat at, and he finally glanced up again.
He almost looked away just as quickly, but then couldn’t—or wouldn’t. He stared at me for almost half a minute, until I felt like hiding. “Well. That’s a different kind of gown than you’ve ever worn before.” He still didn’t take his eyes from me. “The dressmaker leant it to me.” I collected a pillow from a nearby chair and sat down facing him, the pillow covering most of the revealing bodice of my dress. “It’s much more form-fitting than what I’m used to, and I don’t think it’s meant for daily wear.” I swallowed nervously. His eyes now wouldn’t leave my face. “It is pretty though.”
“Yes, it is.” He looked down, noticeably less comfortable than when I’d spotted him sitting at the desk when I’d first come in. “It looks good…on you.” His words came out a bit more rough than usual.
“Thank you.” I arranged my arms from about the pillow to rest upon the top, squishing it down a bit. “Estella said you wanted to see me.”
“Did she?” He’d taken his eyes off of his reading momentarily, but when he caught me staring, he immediately looked back down at the books spread out before him on the desk. It looked as though he was looking through a Bible concordance alongside his Bible. At least when he wasn’t looking at me.
The fact that he was so devoted to reading the Bible made my chest swell with appreciation. Yes, I barely knew my fiancé, but as he quietly proved to me what kinds of things mattered to him most, my thoughts of him kept shifting. Layer upon layer of my doubts disappeared every time he opened his mouth. He’d been almost irresistible to look at when I’d first met him, but that was nothing to the pull he created i
n me from the fact that he endeavored to pursue God, despite his past behavior.
“So you didn’t ask for me to come find you?”
“No, but please stay.”
After a long drawn out silence—I guess neither of us really knew what to say to each other—I said, “Your family is wonderful.”
Vance looked up and held my stare, smiling. “I knew they’d like you.”
“I really can’t believe they’ve accepted me so readily. I’m nowhere near good enough to marry into such a—”
“Well, don’t think about marrying them, but me…and you’ll eventually realize that you’re the one too good for me, and not the other way around.”
I didn’t believe him, of course, and simply added, “I’ve always wished I had a bigger family.”
“Do you have any other relatives besides Ezra?”
“I have an aunt who lives somewhere in Massachusetts, but I’m not sure where. She was my father’s sister-in-law, and we lost contact years ago when my uncle passed away. My mother asked me to find her when…when it was clear she wouldn’t make it. My father had already passed away that same week of whatever it was that killed them.”
“You don’t know what it was?”
“I don’t. They simply both deteriorated before my eyes within weeks of showing signs of illness. And as soon as they were buried, Ezra took over The Hawthorne Inn, making it into what he preferred. Soon after that, Dexter learned of my circumstances and gave me my job. I mean, my old job.”
“Would you like me to find your aunt for you?”
“If you’d like. All I know is that her name is Letty Hawthorne and she was married to my father’s brother, Robert, who was originally from Westborough. I’m not sure what she’s like, but my mother always seemed fond of her from the letters they’d exchanged over the years. Her husband and my father were from a well-to-do Westborough family. They didn’t have much to do with him once he married my mother and stayed in Westward, though. He’d met her while staying at Everston when it was first built by your father.”
“Is that right?”
“Although she wasn’t exactly from his kind of society, she was a gentleman’s daughter. He practiced law in town before we turned my mother’s ancestral home into an inn when the railroad came through. And he kept practicing until he became too sick.”
“I’m sorry, it isn’t my intention to bring up such sad events, but we really ought to get to know one another if…if we’re to be married.”
I almost expected him to fall back on the mild subterfuge we were orchestrating to make his family think we’d made a love match, but I was more than pleased that he’d brought up the actual marriage plans as his excuse instead.
“So we can make everyone believe this is real.” I said, as I stared up at the second level balcony of bookcases. I imagined I could probably spend days and days searching through so many books.
Vance stood from his seat, snagging my attention from above, making his way around the desk, keeping his devastatingly dark eyes directed on me, pillow and all.
I stood as well, gaining a sudden jolt of confidence, and placed the pillow on the chair behind me. Perhaps I could make him want me—make him want everything to be real.
“I’m surprised they don’t think I might break down from my newly formed convictions and pressure you into making love to me, sending you in here wearing that.”
I almost choked on the air in my throat from the shock of his words, and then thought it best just to ignore them. At least outwardly. I had a hard time catching my breath just thinking back to when he’d fingered the locks of my hair the night before. I took a deep breath. “What’s the matter with it?”
“I like it on you a little too much, is all.”
I laughed nervously.
“I’m sure they think more of me than that. And you,” I ventured, referring to his previous comment.
“We can hope.”
Not knowing how to continue, I said, “Thank you for the wedding trousseaux. I didn’t expect that. But I guess I should have. It’s not as if I could have worn my old clothes around this part of town and not stuck out like a sore thumb.”
I wandered about the room a little, not really looking for anything, but wanting to seem busy for the mere fact Vance’s intense gaze and magnetic charm, while simply conversing in the most general of manners drew me to him like nothing I’d ever experienced with anyone.
Strolling over to the fireplace, I examined a stuffed red fox displayed at the far end of the mantle above my head. But then I glanced over my shoulder and across the room, having decided to study my fiancé instead.
And he let me, openly, almost as if he enjoyed my perusal.
So this was what it was like to be on equal standing with a man, at least when it came to appreciation. That’s what it was, I was slowly gathering. For as much as we’d been thrown into our situation against our wills, neither of us seemed to mind it all that much.
Vance slowly dodged the furniture between us as he made his way across the room.
Suddenly bashful again, I turned away, searching for anything to focus my attention on. There were only about a million books; the ones nearest me all about science. I reached up and stroked the fox’s stuffed paw. “Why is it so important your family think we’ve made a love match? Does it really matter?”
“Since Estella already believes—I don’t know, maybe it’s a pride thing, but I’d like to not be seen as the brother who can’t….” I could tell he had made it most of the way across the room already, nearer to where I stood. It sounded as if he was right behind me. “I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.”
I stopped examining the fox, but still didn’t look at Vance. “I think I understand though.”
“I’m glad you’re up for the task.”
“It will be quite a hardship, you know.” I smiled down at the small blaze in the fireplace, unable to keep the mirth I felt hidden.
“I can already tell you’ll probably hate every minute,” he jested.
They seemed like such simple words, but they conveyed that he knew exactly what he was doing to me. It was a little of what had happened when he’d kissed my hand the day before, and when he’d touched my hair later that night, and then kissed my forehead. Although I had a hard time distinguishing exactly what my feelings were, I didn’t want him to stop.
He would be my husband eventually, so it only made sense that we would establish this camaraderie. But was that all it was? It seemed like so much more.
When I could tell he stood beside me, I spun around nervously wringing my fingers together. I looked up and found that he indeed stood mere inches from me with an amused smirk on his lips.
“Did you happen to order a gown like this one?” he whispered, taking a bit of the lace ruffle near my waist between two fingers. He didn’t hold on to the piece for long, but as soon as his hand dropped to his side, I wished it had stayed were it had been much longer, or even closer.
“I think so.” I could hardly remember. He made my thoughts such a muddle. Had I really picked out my wardrobe only that afternoon? “I don’t recall.”
“Well, be sure to order one if you haven’t already, and in your favorite color.”
I smiled nervously and tried to imagine what he saw when he looked at me. Yes, I looked different, but yet very much the same because of my impossible hair. “Do you think this dress really makes such a difference in how I look?”
“That’s a complicated question. As I’ve already told you a number of times, you are quite attractive, no matter the length of your hair. And you’re delightful besides the fact. And refreshing. It’s just that seeing you dressed like this finally convinced me how real all this is getting to be…and how much more difficult it will become.”
I swallowed. “Difficult?”
Without warning, Vance’s hand was at my waist where my newly fitted corset flared down slightly toward my hips. I couldn’t resist leaning into him, causing his
hand to circle around to my back. His other hand was suddenly at the back of my neck, gently caressing the edge of my hairline, tempting the pins loose.
“I hate my hair down…” I whispered.
“Your hair is gorgeous, even as short as it is.” His fingers gently traveled to behind my ear.
“You probably shouldn’t. The pins will come undone,” I breathed, trying desperately to keep my senses. “Everyone would notice, and they’d think the worst.”
“Perhaps not the worst, but at least they would know I couldn’t keep my hands out of your hair.”
“Is that what you want, for them to—?”
“My hands in your hair? Yes.”
“I meant…you want them to think you want your hands—”
“I want a lot of different things right now, actually, Violet,” he breathed.
I took his hand from my neck and held it at my lips. I didn’t kiss his palm as he had mine the day before, but I simply let his knuckles rest there, savoring the touch as he allowed.
He leaned in again, and this time he brought his jaw to my cheekbone. He stayed like that for a long time, breathing unevenly. “It’s odd, isn’t it, how fast things can change from me finding you crying on the steps of Everston, to this.”
“Yes. Very odd.” My free hand came to his neck, where my fingers traveled to the same places he’d explored on me only minutes earlier. I could feel the blood rushing through his veins.
All I really wanted was for him to kiss me. He seemed on the verge, but so hesitant. And not what I expected from him at all. But why was this even happening? His plans had been to make his family think he wanted me…not to make me think he wanted me.
“What do you want?” I asked daringly, unsure of what I was really even asking.
“Too much.” He didn’t move; almost as if he was paralyzed. “What do you want, Violet?”
I lowered my hand from his neck to his chest. Pressing it against the lapel of his suit jacket, I pushed him away, but at the same time I still held his fingers entwined with mine between us. “I…don’t know.”
The Cautious Maiden Page 9