Discovering Grace: An Inglewood Romance

by Britton, Sally

  They stood so close together that, for a wild moment, she thought of what it would be like to raise up on her toes and kiss him. No one would see. No one would know. Except for Jacob. Her aching heart would be laid bare before him at last.

  It would be the end of their friendship.

  No other thought could have removed her from him at that moment as violently as that one did. She put both her hands to his chest and pushed him, hard, causing Jacob to stumble back a step.

  He blinked at last, as though coming out of a stupor, and then his expression changed from a blank and stony aspect to a deep frown.

  “You frightened me,” she whispered, putting as much force into the words as she dared. Perhaps he would forgive her the shove if he thought his actions startled her. “What are you doing, snatching at someone like that?”

  “I—” He uttered the single syllable before clamping his mouth shut, then he turned to glare at the trees again. “This game was a bad idea, Grace. It is not appropriate.”

  She countered quickly, her poor heart still racing. “Everyone is enjoying themselves. Now come, before we are caught.”

  Jacob’s eyes lowered a moment to her hand with the handkerchief, then darted back up to her face. He stepped forward, his hand circling her wrist more gently this time. Then he bent slightly, toward her. Grace’s lungs constricted, the air around them crackled with energy and her foolish hope.

  “You are already caught,” he whispered. His hand dropped from her wrist to her handkerchief, pulling it gently from her grasp.

  All he wanted was to get her handkerchief. Jacob’s actions were nothing more than a ruse, for the game. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment and she lowered her head, unable to meet his gaze. She had been ready, had anticipated something else when he bent closer. More the fool, she, after thinking of giving a kiss to then believe she might receive one. He did not care for her like that. It was Hope he wanted, and Hope was too far for him to reach.

  Mortified, she did not know what to do. The handkerchief had slipped from her fingers, but he lingered, nearer than any man ought to stand to a lady not his wife. Did he mean to drive home his opinion on the impropriety of the game? She hardly cared anymore.

  “Grace,” he said, tone still low, as though he meant to share a secret.

  What sort of sister was Grace, what sort of friend, to entertain the idea of a kiss when she knew Jacob would court Hope upon her return? Even though Grace sincerely doubted Hope would entertain him as a suitor, it was not for Grace to decide. She swallowed, demanded courage from her wounded heart, and lifted her head.

  Jacob had come closer. He leaned down, lowering his head to hers. After her disappointment, Grace could not entertain the notion of kissing him again. Shoving him away had worked before, but this time she stood still, waiting. Grace searched his expression for his intent, her heart breaking.

  After a moment of hesitation, Jacob cleared his throat, and backed away. Brought to his senses, somehow. While Jacob had never struggled to tell Hope and Grace apart, perhaps he had momentarily thought to replace one sister with the other.

  She could never allow that, no matter how much she cared for him.

  He took another step away, then another, and Grace saw the look of shock upon his face. Finally, he realized his mistake. She lifted her skirts with both hands as high as she could without risking indecency, and she ran. Back to the start of the game, to safety, leaving Jacob behind.

  By the time Grace broke through the trees, most of her guests had returned and were laughing. She forced away her hurt. Pasting a pleased expression upon her face, she slowed to a walk.

  “Who has been caught?” She called loudly enough to gain attention. Only a few people were missing, and they arrived shortly after she did. The only couple who appeared as though they might have spent extra time in each other’s company was Jacob’s brother and his Mrs. Muir. They were holding hands, neither with a handkerchief. Grace bit her lip and ignored that intimacy between them.

  Mr. Ashworth had four handkerchiefs, Isaac one, and Mr. Keyes held six. Jacob, at the edge of the party, did not announce he had caught Grace’s. She did not bother to bring attention to it, either, and avoided glancing in his direction. Mr. King had made it back with his handkerchief, along with several others.

  Grace counted the game a success, and she called their attention to the refreshments. She led the way, head held high, planning the next entertainment. Something much more subdued was necessary. Like charades.

  Chapter 14

  It took the better part of the afternoon for Jacob to stop calling himself a fool. He withdrew to the shade where the chaperones conversed, where he ought to have been all along.

  The frivolous games his friends played without thought would do nothing for his reputation. He owed it to his future to distance himself from all of it. A vicar ought to hold himself to higher standards of conduct.

  He watched Grace lead the way from the table of lemonade and tea, taking everyone across the newly-mowed field to the bowling green. She moved with confidence, giving no one reason to suspect she had been through an unpleasant experience.

  What had come over him? Jacob had wanted to kiss her. Had been ready to do so. He ought to have known, after she pushed him away when he caught her, that she would not welcome the idea. Yet in that moment, alone with her and admiring the pretty blush upon her cheeks, he had wanted to take her up in his arms as he had to pull her against the tree.

  His mind warred with the desire, reminding him that such an action was the very reason he had protested the game of fox and hounds. But Grace, flushed and breathing heavily while her eyes gleamed up at him through the shadows, had presented too tempting a picture. He had come so close to kissing her.

  Jacob did not stir from the chaperones the rest of the afternoon. Instead, he kept up conversation with them, asking after the Parrs’ school children, the Kimballs’ married daughter, and trivial matters which barely served to distract him from Grace’s movements. He knew where she was, though he tried not to look, and he took himself away to his family’s carriage as soon as he sensed the end of the picnic drew near.

  He had ridden Matthew’s horse so his brother could escort Mrs. Muir and their sisters in the carriage. He mounted the hunter the moment his family appeared for the return trip.

  Every time he came in contact with Grace of late, he did something that he immediately felt the need to apologize for. It was impossible to continue laying the blame for his actions on his confusion over Hope’s disappearance and the subsequent lies Grace must act and tell. Something entirely different troubled him.

  When he arrived home, Jacob took himself to his room. At least, that was where he intended to go. He met his mother in the hall leading to the family’s bedchambers.

  “Jacob,” she called upon seeing him, coming as she was from her own chambers. “You are returned from the picnic. How was the event? A great success, as always?”

  His guilt at making Grace uncomfortable made it difficult for him to answer at first. “Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves.”

  His mother came down the hall, her brow puckered. “Everyone but you?”

  How did she do that? Though he limited his words, twisted his expression into cheer, she knew his mind seemingly better than he did.

  “It occurred to me that it might not be the best way for a vicar to spend an afternoon.” There. That was partly the truth.

  She stopped a few paces from him, searching his face. “You are not a vicar yet, and you were among friends. Did anything happen to put you out of sorts?”

  He glanced at his door, wishing he had made it inside before she found him home. His mother would not pry, not if he asked her to leave him be. But the strange mixture of guilt and desire he felt, the difficulty of his position as friend to Grace, roiled inside his mind in a most unhealthy manner.

  “I cannot tell the whole of it,” Jacob said at last, the promise he made Grace to keep her secret binding his tongu
e. “But something did happen.”

  His mother joined her hands before her, appearing completely relaxed and ready to hear anything he had to say. With six children to look after, how Mother had managed to remain on good terms with them all impressed him. It was due in part to moments like this, when she invited them to share their burdens with her.

  After a moment of arranging his thoughts, Jacob attempted to explain. “Something odd happened, Mother. I know we have spoken of my feelings for a certain friend.” He shifted from one foot to the other, not looking his mother in the eye. “Lately, however, it is another woman we know who has my attention. Today, in the middle of the games, I almost did something that would make you ashamed.”

  “I very much doubt that. You are a good son, and I have never been ashamed of you.” Her gentle words made it harder to admit his guilt.

  “I almost kissed this woman.” He winced with the admission.

  She stared at him a moment. “And? I am afraid the notion of you stealing a kiss is not enough to shock me. Do you think I kissed no one until after my betrothal to your father?” She shrugged when he gaped at her. “Come now, dear. If you care for a lady, it is only natural. Though I am surprised such a thing would happen when it was not long ago we were speaking of that certain other lady.”

  Jacob’s ears grew hot. “I know. I cannot understand it myself.”

  “And what you feel for this new miss, this other friend. Is it genuine affection?” his mother asked, raising her eyebrows at him. “Or a passing fancy? You said you did not kiss her. Why is that?”

  Jacob released a deep breath before answering, a bit sheepishly. “I am fairly certain she wants nothing to do with me, at least in a romantic sense.” He ducked his head, the rejection of her pushing him away stung, even if his own motives confused him. Was he that disgusting to her? Even after she knew of his former wish to court Hope?

  His former—Had he ever told Grace he’d given up his desire to court her sister?

  With that thought, realization came. Jerking his head up, Jacob met his mother’s concerned gaze. “Lud, I am twice a fool. I bungled everything.”

  “Jacob, you are hardly making sense. Whatever do you mean?” Mother eyed him suspiciously, a perplexed frown in place.

  “I need to think on this more, Mother. But rest assured, I will let you know what comes next.” He stepped forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for listening to my nonsense.”

  “I am always here for you, Jacob. I do hope everything will turn out well for you.” She shook her head at him, but Jacob barely noticed as he went back down the hall. Locking himself away in his room would do him little good. He needed to walk. The fresh air would clear his mind faster than anything else.

  Chapter 15

  Dawn found Grace already awake and sitting on the edge of Hope’s bed. Since beginning her ruse, she had not slept well. The previous night, she had barely slept at all. Over and over in her mind, she saw the scene between herself and Jacob in the orchard as though she watched a play. A rather tragic play, at that. Her longing for his attention had finally brought about the very scene she desired, but nothing in that moment with him had felt right.

  What if he had kissed her? The idea sent a blush into her cheeks, but as quickly as it came it left, wondering if he only saw her as a replacement for Hope. The thought made her stomach lurch unpleasantly.

  When Susan came to help Grace dress, the maid found her mistress had done most of the job. All that was left for Susan was to tie up a few things and assist in the arrangement of Grace’s hair. Grace, distracted, barely said a word to her servant. The quiet hovered between them, an almost impenetrable curtain.

  “Miss?” Susan at last brought Grace from her thoughts. “Your hair is finished. Do you require anythin’ else?”

  Meeting her maid’s eyes in the mirror, Grace studied Susan carefully. The maid had stopped exclaiming over her hair, had not made another comment about anything that struck her as odd. Yet Grace could not think she had completely fooled Susan. The woman helped her in and out of the bath, for goodness sake.

  “No, thank you.” She rose from the chair and went to the door while Susan went about tidying up the room. Though it was too early for breakfast, she went downstairs. Putting something in her stomach might stop its odd behavior. Perhaps she could beg toast from Cook.

  Grace passed through the silent house, her ears listening for the busy sounds of her family even though she knew no one but her father was at home with her. She missed Hope. Missed her mother. And her younger brother and sisters. Edward, Charity, and Patience would come home from school soon. At least then some of the old liveliness would return to the Refuge.

  She entered the kitchen, the sound of her footsteps on the wood floors lost amid the clanging of a pot and fussing of the cook.

  One of the kitchen maids spotted Grace first and hurried over, wiping her hands on her apron. “Might I help you, miss?” Molly asked.

  “I wonder if I might have a bite of toast before breakfast.” Grace offered the servant a smile and received a quick nod in return.

  Grace, with no work to do, did not presume to sit at the table this time. She had no wish to be underfoot.

  Garrett appeared and stopped upon seeing her. “Miss Everly. You are up early this morning, miss. May I help you?”

  “I am only come to sniff out some toast. Molly is tending to me.”

  He nodded and bowed, then took himself off to the shelves near the back door. He reached into a nook and drew out several folded papers. The post. Someone must have run to town for it.

  “Here is your toast, miss.” Molly offered the small plate with the dry bread and a little crock of marmalade.

  “Thank you.” She took the food and turned to leave, intending to take herself off to her mother’s sitting room. The familiarity of the room might do something to help her rather woebegone mood.

  “Miss Everly?” Garrett said, and she turned around again. “There is a letter for you, from your sister in London.”

  What little appetite the toast and marmalade had coaxed forward immediately vanished. A letter from Hope meant only one thing. She had set sail and posted the note as one of her last acts on English soil.

  Grace held onto her plate with one hand and held the other out for the letter. “Thank you, Garrett. I-I am glad she wrote.” Was she? It meant things were final. It meant she must tell the truth, at last.

  The butler placed the folded and sealed paper in her hand, his eyebrows drawn down. “Are you worried it is bad news, miss?”

  “No.” She attempted a brighter expression, though she doubted her ability to be convincing. “I miss her, though. It will be good to have news.” She left without another word, tucking the letter into the bosom of her gown. Grasping her plate with both hands, she ran to the first room where she knew she might have privacy.

  The music room was across from her father’s study, as he claimed he enjoyed hearing his children practice and play upon their instruments while he worked. That morning, all was silent when she entered. She had not practiced the pianoforte once in Hope’s absence, though she had longed to do so a time or two. Hope sang. Grace played the piano.

  Grace was forever in the background while her sister performed, in music and in life. Truthfully, she preferred it that way. The picnic had been entertaining, but exhausting.

  She put the plate down on a chair and went to the window, pushing the heavy curtains aside, allowing the morning sunlight to illuminate her letter.

  It was as she thought. Hope’s part in the masquerade had remained undiscovered, and she had set sail the previous day after giving the letter into the care of a servant.

  Hope was gone. Beyond reach of their father, beyond Grace’s help.

  She lowered herself to the wide windowsill, paper in hand, and leaned back against the glass. Her plan had worked. Neither of them had been discovered, both had what they wanted. Why then, with her triumph confirmed, did she feel so l
ost? She dreaded telling her father. Who knew what he would say, what the punishment for her actions might be? But that was not what left her heart empty.

  Her sister was gone. The sister she had never been apart from, since before their birth. They had done everything together, excepting brief separations lasting no more than the space of a day or two. All this time, pretending to be Hope had wearied her. Thinking of how her sister might act in every situation had kept Grace from truly recognizing the hole in her life with Hope away.

  Grace raised her free hand to rub her eyes, trying to plan what came next. That was what she did; Hope took off on whatever wild idea came to her while Grace planned each moment of her day with care. She knew Papa ought to be told soon. It was wrong to go on lying to him any longer than necessary. Yet she hesitated.

  The person she most wanted to speak with, to share her feelings, to mourn the loss of her sister for an entire year, was Jacob.

  The awkward moment beneath the apple trees would have to be addressed. She must let him know she thought nothing of it, that it was forgotten. Even if that might be another lie.

  With a groan, Grace put her face in her hands, heedless of pressing Hope’s letter into her cheek. What a mess. Though she had won the ability to stay at home, remaining near those she loved, everyone she cared for would have reason to be cross with her once the whole truth came out.

  She had to think carefully about how to reveal the truth. It certainly needn’t be done right away.

  Tucking the letter back into her bodice, she found her plate. The toast, though cold, would be all right with the marmalade. Forcing down a few bites, Grace’s mind kept busy, examining each of her options.

  The day passed, and she through it, as silently as it began. Grace ate breakfast with Papa and then retired to sew. Hope sewed sometimes, after all. Then she strolled through her mother’s garden, inspecting the plants carefully. She took tea in to her father when she thought he might be peckish but had little in the way of conversation with him.