“Mother hinted you might wish to court her.” Matthew had the decency not to sound skeptical, though his neutrality was somewhat suspect. “Is that where your frustration lies?”
“Yes.” Jacob lifted his eyes from the stone at last and met his brother’s concerned gaze. “I have admired Hope for so long. And we are good friends. I hoped to build upon those things, but—” He broke off and threw his hands in the air.
“Ah. You have run into some difficulty.” Matthew’s lips quirked upward in a commiserating sort of mien.
“Indeed. I am beginning to wonder if I was wrong to even consider more than friendship between us.” Jacob crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the sweat upon his brow. Bending himself to a physical task had eased some of the tension in his body though it had given him no more peace of mind. “It’s as though all the people I know have accepted they must grow into respectable adulthood, while Hope still thinks of the world as she did when she was ten years old.”
“Not exactly the model vicar’s wife, I suppose.” Matthew rocked back on his heels. “I will not presume to tell you what to do, but might I offer some advice?”
Jacob chuckled. “If you think it will help. Though I must admit to some misgivings, since you are thirty-two and still unmarried.”
Matthew cuffed Jacob on the shoulder, laughing as he did. “Come now. I am making progress; you must allow for that.”
Although he doubted Matthew had any words of wisdom concerning his predicament, Jacob nodded. “Very well. I suppose if you have obtained approval from Mrs. Muir, you must have some idea of what you are about. What is your advice?”
“Stop worrying about whether or not Miss Everly will make a good vicar’s wife. Instead, try to determine if she will make a good wife to Jacob Barnes.” Matthew grinned as though he had said something particularly clever. “And come for a ride with me next time you are vexed. It is more productive than moving these old stones about.” He retrieved their coats from the bench and held Jacob’s out.
“Perhaps I will.” Jacob accepted the coat and pulled it back on. Matthew’s advice would be difficult to take if Hope’s plan worked and she wound up thousands of miles away in the Caribbean Sea.
“There is a card party tomorrow evening at Mr. Greenfield’s home. Will you come with me?” Matthew asked suddenly. The Greenfields were a respectable farming family, nearly neighbors to the Barnes family.
“A card party? I had not heard word of it.”
“They are entertaining some cousin visiting from the north and decided a card party was in order. I received an invitation this morning. I think you might enjoy it.”
A distraction would be most welcome. “I will come.” But it was doubtful anything would keep his thoughts away from Hope and Grace for long. Grace’s pleading expression surfaced in his mind, her eyes begging him to understand her part in the deception. For Grace he would say nothing, though it was Hope who had cracked his heart.
Chapter 8
Sleeping with a guilty heart proved impossible for Grace. She had taken herself to Hope’s bedroom early the night before, pleading a headache and trying to maintain a sullen manner, only to spend most of her time staring out the window into the darkness. Though her bedroom was across the hall, her twin’s room had nothing of the familiar about it. With Hope gone, and Grace unable to return to the comfort of her bed and belongings, she felt rather like an intruder.
The wind rustled the tree limbs outside Hope’s window, creating a strange swishing sort of sound Grace could not ignore. Hope’s linens smelled of lilacs while Grace preferred apple blossom soaps and perfumes. It was yet another thing, though small, that illustrated the differences between them. Grace loved the familiar scents of her family’s apple orchards, while Hope longed for something entirely different.
Grace had finally fallen asleep, but woke again with the sun. Another day stretched before her in which she would wear her sister’s clothes and try to avoid anyone who might notice that Miss Everly was not acting precisely as one expected.
She spoke little to her maid, hoping Susan interpreted her silence as continued melancholy. The kindhearted maid offered cheerful observations of the day ahead, noting the fine morning, that there were special biscuits for breakfast, and all manner of inconsequential pleasantries.
Grace’s tired mind worked into a tangle over how she must behave as she took herself down to breakfast. Her father sat at the head of the table when she arrived, the dining room empty and nearly silent as he sipped at his morning coffee. His spectacles were upon his head and his newspaper lay folded to one side.
“Good morning, Hope,” he said upon noticing her in the doorway.
She curtsied. “Good morning, Papa.” Did she sound too subdued? Ought she to try and sound more belligerent? At least she need not pretend to have a great appetite. Grace imagined Hope, had she been left behind in truth, would not take much more than toast and tea. That was all she served herself from the sideboard before taking Hope’s customary seat a chair away from her father’s left hand. Habit nearly sent her to her own chair on the other side of the table, but she thankfully kept her head enough to avoid that mistake.
Her father said nothing as she nibbled at her toast, busying himself with his ham and eggs. Grace kept her eyes upon her plate, determined to eat swiftly and with as few words as possible.
“I must admit to some relief at your manner, Hope.” Her father’s voice intruded upon her frantic thoughts. “I expected you to either take to your room like some heroine in a Gothic novel, or else stomp about enough to shake the rafters loose.” He chuckled.
Grace’s fingers went cold and she swallowed her dry bite of toast with difficulty. Had she miscalculated the best way to behave as her sister?
“I am disappointed,” she said at last, trying to keep her voice even. “But I do regret my actions.”
“As I can see. I do hope Grace is handling her change in circumstances with the same sort of stalwart attitude.” Her father shifted in his chair, but she kept her eyes down and held her hands in her lap, gripping her own fingers tightly. There was nothing and no one else to offer support. “I must admit, I had my misgivings,” her father continued. “I know how much that voyage meant to you, my dear. Yet you must learn to let good sense rule your actions rather than your propensity to inact mischief.”
“Yes, Papa.” Grace did not even dare to reach for her tea. The slightest movement might betray her anxiety.
“I do feel for Grace, however.” She nearly jerked upon hearing her name spoken again. “She has never desired to go far from home, to seek out new experiences as you always have. I think my decision to send her away may have frightened her.”
It had terrified her. Grace’s stomach twisted at the hated idea of stepping foot upon a vessel meant for the ocean. To hear her father express regret gave rise to guilt, however, which she liked no more than she had her fear.
“It is your opposing natures that leads me to believe you will have more opportunities in future, Hope. There will be other times, other experiences, which you will find and take advantage of. I know you well enough to realize that this one setback will not put an end to your sense of wonder.” Her father’s words were kind, spoken gently. Grace dared to raise her head, finding that her father stared at her with a softness in his features.
The guilt nearly erupted from her in a confession. Papa loved her. He loved Hope.
“Grace will never search for more from life than what it hands to her,” he added, his expression as gentle as before though his words cut into her heart. “She is not as brave as you. I think this experience will teach you to temper your ways, but it will show Grace she cannot live her life timidly. You will see. Grace will come back with confidence and a new appreciation for the world outside our county.”
Any desire she had entertained to confess the whole of what they had done to her father vanished. He thought her a coward, and he thought his punishment a boon to her. Grace bit her lip and ave
rted her eyes. Did he truly know her so little?
“Yes, Papa,” she whispered. Her stomach grew hot, the last few bites of toast upon her plate unappetizing. If only she had found a reason to take a tray in her room.
“As I have considered these things,” Papa continued, “I have determined to allow you a few more liberties than we discussed before. I am attending the Greenfields’ card party this evening and I should like you to accompany me.”
Her eyes snapped up and she responded without thought, much as Hope might have done. “The Greenfields? Papa, you said I was not to go anywhere, nor see anyone, for weeks and weeks. You cannot change your mind now.” She depended upon staying at home, staying away from any and all who knew her sister well enough to perhaps recognize the inconsistencies in character. “I cannot possibly go.”
Her father’s black eyebrows lowered. “What is this? Why not? Is the idea of accompanying your father so dreadful?”
“No, Papa.” She shifted nervously, her hands sliding down her skirt as her palms began to sweat. What possible reason could she give to stay at home? “It would be humiliating.” There was nothing Hope disliked so much as damage to her pride. “Everyone knows I should have gone away with the Carlburys. Facing our neighbors, having to explain the situation—”
“Would do you a world of good.” Her father’s eyes narrowed and he rose, tossing his napkin upon the table. “You are too proud, Hope. Everyone in the neighborhood knows of your accident with Lord Neil and that Grace has gone in your place. If your feather-headed friends push you for more information, it would serve you right. Humble yourself before our community, my dear, and learn your lesson fully.”
“But, Papa—” She did not know what she would say, and he did not give her time to attempt another word.
“You will be ready to attend with me at seven o’clock this evening.” He left no room for argument.
Grace gulped back her protest and lowered her head. “Yes, Papa.” She did not look up as he left the room, listening to his retreating footsteps and then the slam of his study door. What was she to do? Feigning an illness would make him angry and he might call her bluff, or study her too closely, or any number of other unpleasant things. She would have to go to the party, as Hope, and pray that no one would realize she acted in any way out of character.
The nature of her punishment would account for any strange conduct. Even Hope might be subdued with such a great disappointment in her life.
Telling herself that no one knew Hope better than she did had given Grace the courage to propose the idea of switching places. Where had all that confidence gone? Was her father right about her nature? Did she truly lack courage?
Grace spent the day wrestling with her thoughts, sitting in Hope’s room. She refused to pace. That was what Hope did when nervous or excited. Grace usually withdrew, sat in quiet contemplation, until her mind made its peace with whatever event put her into such flights of emotion. Somehow it was easier to maintain calm when she was in her own room or could be in the library. In Hope’s chamber, decorated in bright yellows and pinks, it was difficult to settle her thoughts.
If only she had someone in whom to confide. But her regular confidante was in London, and Jacob had made it quite clear he had no intention of speaking with her while she pretended to be someone else. Pretended to be Hope, the object of his affection. Yet Grace wished she could speak with him, despite his obvious anger with her at the moment.
Grace settled herself on Hope’s bed, holding onto the post with one hand.
Allowing Jacob to believe the whole thing was Hope’s idea further nettled Grace’s attempts at contemplation. It was wrong. She needed to tell him the very next time she saw him that she concocted the entire plan herself and persuaded Hope to go along with it. Not the other way around. If nothing else, it might soften his opinion of Hope a touch.
An ache that had become familiar to Grace returned to her heart. Though Grace despised feeling sorry for herself, her already rattled mind and guilt-stricken heart made it terribly easy for the pain to settle upon her.
She promised herself she would not think on Jacob as more than a friend. Not ever again. She had allowed herself to dream about it once, imagining what it might be like for him to court her. Then Jacob had begun looking at Hope, and Grace put her dreams aside.
Tracing the whirls in the bedpost with one finger, Grace saw the whole scene from the previous afternoon clearly in her mind. Jacob’s shock, his disgust, his pain, at his loss of Hope.
Jacob did not see Grace as anything other than his old friend, likely regarding her with the same brotherly eye with which he watched over his sisters. Yet he stared at Hope as though he had never seen anything like her before.
Why did the one man who clearly recognized them as separate people have to be enamored with the elder Everly twin? Hope had never paid Jacob more attention than she had Silas and Isaac. Hope laughed at the idea of marriage, of being tied down to a home and family, but Grace yearned for those very things to call her own.
Grace did not realize she had started crying until a warm tear fell down her cheek, followed by another on the other side. She dashed them away quickly. Crying over Jacob Barnes had proved a useless action in the past.
The card party. She needed to create a plan of action, a mental script, of how to act and what to say while among other people in the neighborhood. Who might the Greenfields invite?
Rising from the bed, Grace went to her sister’s small writing desk. After a few moments of digging about in Hope’s things, Grace found pencil and paper and started making a list of possible guests. She focused on turning her mind to each person she knew and of Hope’s opinions of them. Slowly she decided on the best course take when greeted by any one of them. No one at the party would ever know they had conversed with Miss Grace rather than Miss Everly.
The hours crept by until Susan came to help her dress for dinner and the evening’s entertainment. Grace chose one of Hope’s favorite gowns to wear, though the bright coral color made rather too bold a statement for Grace’s liking. Hope would choose something like that dress, to show the whole neighborhood her punishment had not dampened her spirits.
Susan stood behind Grace at the dressing table, putting the finishing touches on her hair. “The curls look lovely, miss. They don’t normally stay so well for you. Must be a bit of luck tonight.”
Grace, preoccupied with what she might say if Lady Olivia made an appearance, barely heeded her maid’s tone. “Perhaps. I will need all the good fortune in the world to get through tonight.” She heaved a sigh and raised her eyes to meet Susan’s in the mirror’s and caught the maid frowning. “Is something wrong, Susan?” she asked.
“No, miss.” Susan shifted and took a step back. “Just admiring your hair is all.”
Grace’s stomach tightened. Her hair. Hope was forever bemoaning that Grace’s hair stayed put far better than her own. Could such a simple thing give her away?
Susan’s expression cleared and she shook her head. “There now. Pretty as a picture. Dinner ought to be ready downstairs, miss. You mustn’t keep your father waiting.”
“Thank you.” Grace stood quickly, instinctively needing to put distance between herself and the maid. As though being out of Susan’s sight would be enough to put her out of mind, too. Dread inched into her thoughts. Why hadn’t she considered her dratted hair?
Her father said little to her at dinner, though he did venture to compliment her gown. The silence at the table was necessary, though it made Grace more restless. Normally she and Hope would speak of their day, talk of their visits to neighbors with their mother and father, and when the younger children were home they would all chat at once filling the room with their cheer and affection.
But she could not risk conversation.
“I miss your mother,” her father said near the end of the dinner hour. When she dared to look up at him, she saw he stared at her mother’s empty chair. “I hope your aunt will be well soon. It is
far too quiet around here at present.” He sighed and stood. “And I cannot find anything when she is gone, besides.”
Apparently, his spectacles had gone missing again. Perhaps that was another stroke of luck for Grace.
“I am certain Mama will have Aunt cured quickly, and will come home soon.” Grace spoke the comforting words without thought, then bit her lip. Though natural for her to be mindful of her father’s moods, Hope may not have said something such as that.
Her father walked away from the table and to the front door, hardly seeming to notice her words. “Come, the carriage will be waiting.”
Grace took in a deep, steadying breath and followed. People mixed up Hope and Grace all the time. Dressed as the bolder sister, no one would think twice about which Everly sister attended the party that night. If anything, Grace reasoned, she might allow that truth to give her ease. Hope rarely thought before she spoke, and hardly cared for what others thought of her. For the first time in her life, Grace might allow herself that same privilege. After all, people would expect it.
Yet the whole carriage ride to the Greenfields all she could do was worry over every word not yet spoken and every gesture made in her sister’s name.
* * *
Jacob did not move from his spot in the corner when Grace’s familiar figure entered the drawing room. Clad in a bright gown that likely made her uncomfortable, Grace stood out at once in the crowded room. Most young ladies wore evening gowns in pastel colors, the matrons wore darker colors, and there stood Grace like a wild rose in a field of heather.
While he would not exactly call Grace shy, she never liked attention at events such as this, yet Hope thrived when all eyes turned upon her. As everyone in the room but himself believed Hope Everly stood in their midst, their neighbors obliged Hope’s nature and immediately began to seek out the young woman’s company.
Discovering Grace: An Inglewood Romance Page 7