Evan shook his head. Would he ever feel as secure in this new world as he’d felt in the one he’d known before?
Footsteps on the path caused him to go perfectly still. No one knew him well enough to come looking for him, but would anyone come out in the cold for another reason? The steps paused—likely at the spot where the path forked. To go right would lead the interloper to the first bench; to go left would bring the person around to where he sat.
Go right, he said in his mind. Please go right!
The newcomer seemed to have read his thoughts—or preferred to avoid the more shadowed portion of the garden—and moved to the other bench.
Evan surmised through the cadence and softness of the step that this new arrival was a woman. He was glad that her choice of the other bench meant he did not have to explain himself or attempt awkward conversation, but he was also rather stuck. Returning to the house would bring him in view of her. With his new understanding of the manners and expectation of the noble class, might he create some question regarding her virtue or his character if they were found together?
In his past life he would expect to explain the situation and suffer some jeering from his friends. Amid these new customs he had no such assurance. Things were so formal, so certain and proper. Surely this woman would rest a few moments, be overtaken by the cold, and then return to the ball. All he had to do was wait.
Two minutes. Three. After five minutes, he was reconsidering his situation. His carriage would be ready soon. If he didn’t appear, would the coachman ask for him? He’d never had his own carriage but assumed that since he had said to have the carriage ready for him by 11:45 it would be ready by 11:45. Would his waiting carriage interfere with other people’s carriages if it was parked for him out front? Might he cause all kinds of havoc if he didn’t arrive precisely when he said he would?
His anxiety was rising when his company—who did not know she was his company—sneezed.
Evan looked over his shoulder, and though the wooden scaffold of the arbor was mostly covered with foliage—wisteria, he thought—he could see a few gaps. An elbow moved on the other side of the arbor, startling him—an elbow clad in pink satin with a sheer cuff of some kind. The woman was very close to him, perhaps three feet away. If she looked through the same gaps he had found, she would see him. What would she think of him having sat silent as a church mouse for five full minutes? Could he explain that he was trying, as best he knew how, to be a gentleman?
She sneezed again, then sniffled. Was she . . . crying? Raised in a noble class or not, Evan knew what was proper when a man encountered a woman in tears. Besides, if he did not make himself known, and she realized he’d been there all this time, he might find himself in quite a predicament. Hoping his chivalry would work in his favor, he reached inside his coat and pulled out a handkerchief, one of a dozen his mother had given him before he left London. Mama had embroidered each one with his initials in one corner. He shook it out, took a breath, and then turned toward one of the larger gaps in the arbor. He cleared his throat to reveal himself.
She gasped and he cringed. He was most certainly doing this all wrong.
“I beg your pardon, miss.” He stretched his hand through the gap between their two benches. He could think of nothing more to say so held his breath until the scrap of cloth was taken from his hand.
“Thank you,” a soft voice said.
It was a pleasant voice, a kind voice, and he felt a shared sympathy with the woman behind it. They had both made their escape only to find themselves alone . . . together. “Forgive me for having not revealed myself when you first arrived. My name is Evan Glenside. I was unsure what to do when you came upon me. There are so many bits of etiquette I don’t fully understand.” He winced at his lame attempt at explanation and shook his head in self-reproach. He was more eager than ever to get back to his drunk uncle and put this evening behind him.
“I . . . I am Lenora Wilton.”
He didn’t think he had met her tonight. If so, then they had not had a proper introduction, which was vital. Without one, they should not be speaking to one another at all. Evan was muddling everything. “I was just leaving when you arrived but worried I would frighten you if I made myself known.”
“Please don’t let me keep you.” She sniffed again.
“Are . . . are you all right?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said nervously. “P-please do not stay on my account.”
Evan was still unsure what to do but increasingly anxious that his carriage was already waiting for him in the drive. If only he knew the rules of how he was supposed to behave in such a situation. “Are you sure you are well, Miss Wilton?”
“Please do go in. I am well, and thank you, again.”
Feeling as though he had no other course, he stood and made his way back to the house. When he reached the fork, he looked back and saw the skirt portion of a pink gown with silver roses. Miss Wilton’s face was hidden by the arbor, but it was just as well. He doubted he would remember anyone from tonight well enough to recognize them later. Though he could appreciate her desire to be alone, he feared she was freezing in only a ball gown. He would tell the Dyers about her in case she needed aid.
As he reached the steps of the house, Evan squared his shoulders. Lifted his chin. Took a deep breath and let it out slowly while reviewing all the things he had done right tonight. He had made his first public appearance, presented himself well—for the most part—and made himself known to the society of this place. He had met any number of women, young and otherwise, played cards with the men, and been given a genteel welcome. The one dance had not gone perfectly, but it could have been so much worse. And, best of all, the entire event was now over.
Regardless of the night’s imperfections, Evan would never again have to attend his first ball in the town he would now call home. That was something to be grateful for.
Country balls were known to last until the early hours of the morning, but the vicar’s family rarely stayed so late. They were always home by two o’clock in the morning, or earlier if Lenora’s nerves got the better of her. Cassie had high hopes that her advice to her sister would help her through this particular evening and was therefore disappointed when she heard the carriage arriving home just after midnight.
Cassie quickly blew out the candle she’d been reading by even though Mama would have seen the light already. She listened to the sound of movement and hushed conversation downstairs, then footsteps moving upstairs and along the hall until she heard two bedroom doors open and close. Only when the hallway had been silent a full minute did Cassie get out of bed and tiptoe across the hall to Lenora’s room. She had told Lenora to come to her, but her eagerness to hear about the ball made Cassie unable to wait. She slipped into the room, startling Lenora, who was sitting at her vanity. She had removed the pearl headband and begun taking the pins from her hair; Young would help their mother before she would attend a daughter.
“How was the evening?” Cassie gestured for Lenora to stand and then began unfastening the buttons down the back of the gown. They had once helped each other in and out of dresses on a regular basis, but Cassie couldn’t remember the last time either of them had asked the other for assistance.
“It was lovely,” Lenora said, stepping out of the dress.
Cassie laid the gown over the foot of the bed and began working to release the high stays. Lenora could likely have managed on her own—all the Wilton girls were embarrassingly self-sufficient—but as Lenora was not waving her away, Cassie continued to help.
“Did you feel sick?” Cassie asked.
“No,” Lenora said, with enough surprise in her voice that Cassie moved around to face her.
“You didn’t?” Cassie asked. “But you’re home so early.”
“Papa was the one who felt ill.” She grinned.
“But you were well?”
L
enora nodded quickly, then looked around as though someone might overhear them. She leaned closer to Cassie and spoke in a whisper. “I met a gentleman.”
Cassie slapped her hand over her own mouth to keep from shrieking. Lenora smiled wider than Cassie thought she had ever seen her do before, not even when presented with a new piece of music.
Once Cassie could contain herself, she grabbed Lenora’s arm and led her to the window seat. “Tell me everything,” she demanded.
“I did what you said and focused on my breathing and keeping a smile on my face. I didn’t expect it to come to much, only hoped it would keep me from being ill.”
Cassie nodded quickly and waved for Lenora to continue.
“So what happened first was that Mr. Capenshaw asked me to dance—he is always so kind.”
Wayne Capenshaw was their brother-in-law, and with Rose unable to dance due to her pregnancy, it did not surprise Cassie to hear that he had sought Lenora out as a partner.
Lenora continued. “Then Rebecca Glanchard sat beside me and complimented my dress. I told myself we were just at church and talking beneath the yew trees while we waited for our mothers. I didn’t think of anyone watching me, and I felt so much better!” She put a hand on her stomach, making Cassie realize that Lenora wore only her shift, but they were sisters so it was of no matter. “I had butterflies, of course, but not the snakes roiling around in my belly like I usually do. We took some refreshment together, spoke with some other ladies near the tables, and then went back to where Mama and Rose were sitting. After a while, Rebecca was asked to dance.” Her smile fell. “And then I felt conspicuous because I was sitting alone—Mama and Rose were on the other side of the room talking with Mrs. Burbidge, who is so overbearing I couldn’t imagine approaching them and having her turn her attention on me. I didn’t know what to do, and the butterflies got so heavy I decided to go into the garden to clear my head. No one had ventured out due to the cold, and I was glad for the solitude. I sat on a bench, still in view of the house, and it was a lovely reprieve until I realized it was wisteria along the arbor above the bench.”
“Wisteria?” Cassie asked. Who cared about the wisteria? When would they talk about the gentleman?
“I’m terribly allergic to wisteria, you know.”
“Oh, yes,” Cassie said, though she did not know that about her sister. Or at least, if she had known it she’d forgotten.
“And so I sneezed.” Lenora smiled as though her reaction had been a happy surprise. “And when I sneezed a second time, a handkerchief was suddenly thrust toward me from behind the bench. A hand came out of nowhere.” She punched her hand forward as though demonstrating. “Just like that.”
Cassie pulled her eyebrows together, terribly confused. “A handkerchief from behind you?”
Lenora nodded quickly. “I had not realized there were actually two benches separated by the arbor. A gentleman had escaped the ballroom just as I had and was sitting on the bench behind me.” She put a hand to her chest and shook her head. “Of course I was horribly embarrassed to realize he’d known I was there while I did not know he was there, but I accepted his handkerchief through a space in the arbor and thanked him and he apologized for not revealing himself.”
Cassie waited expectantly for several seconds before she realized that Lenora was finished. “Is that all he said? Did you speak to him face to face? Is he handsome?”
“He was such a gentleman,” Lenora said with an accompanying sigh. “He could have easily just sat there, taking his repose and letting me sneeze like a cat, but he didn’t. As someone who well understands the difficulty of social events and the need for solitude now and again, I am touched by his generous nature.”
“That is wonderful,” Cassie said, but inside she was shaking her head. This is what Lenora called “meeting a gentleman”? This was nothing.
“He had such a lovely voice, Cassie. Low and smooth. I wonder if he sings.”
Sings? “But you were not introduced to him? You do not know his name?”
“His name is Evan Glenside, nephew of Mr. Glenside and recent heir to the estate. He is here to become familiar with the estate and the village so as to be in a better position to inherit when the time comes.”
So they had conversed beyond the exchange of the gentleman’s handkerchief. “He told you all of this on the bench?”
“Oh, no, I told Mama about him when she came to find me, and she asked Mrs. Preston. It seems he is a most eligible man.” Lenora’s eyes sparkled.
“Yet he hid in the garden.” This meeting was far less impressive than she had expected. Then again, hadn’t she wished for the hand of Providence to bring a man as socially awkward as Lenora into her view? Perhaps Cassie had received exactly what she’d wished for.
Lenora nodded, her eyes twinkling. “He is unused to this level of society, that is what Mrs. Preston says, and does not know many people. There was also some unfortunate turn in a dance or something.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But look at this.”
Lenora hurried to her dressing table where she picked up a white square of fabric. She returned to the window seat and handed the handkerchief to Cassie. Cassie held it gingerly; it had been given to Lenora for necessary reasons, after all. It was an ordinary handkerchief, not coarse but not overly fine, and no lace edge. The initials EGJ were monogrammed in gray thread in the corner.
“Did you ever get to see his face?” Cassie asked, setting the handkerchief between them. What if he were a troll? Lenora was allowing her emotions to carry her too far.
“Only briefly,” Lenora explained, still grinning. One would think she’d been kissed under a full moon for how excited she was about sneezing beneath an arbor. “We were collecting our cloaks and gloves when a man was leaving the vestibule. I’d never seen him before. He nodded toward us briefly and then left. After he was gone, Mrs. Preston came to find us and tell us that she’d heard Mr. Glenside had just left, perhaps we had seen him? And so we had seen him. What remarkable providence that we were all there at the same time, don’t you think?”
Cassie kept smiling politely and looked at the handkerchief. Remarkable providence? Not nearly. But it is progress, she told herself. Comparatively. It would be counterproductive to Cassie’s goals to be the least bit discouraging. She must help Lenora make the most of this. With those objectives in mind, Cassie felt a plan developing.
“And so you must return Mr. Glenside’s handkerchief.” She lifted a hand and tapped her chin. “I don’t believe Papa has yet made his welcome visit to Mr. Glenside. If he were to do so tomorrow, perhaps we could attend with him. Then you could properly thank Mr. Glenside for his kindness to you.”
Everyone knew Mr. Hastings Glenside. He owned one of the larger holdings of land between Luton and Leagrave and was well respected, even if he kept his own company and didn’t interact with the village very often. She had heard he had a nephew who would inherit the estate, but knew nothing else about him—certainly not that he was unmarried.
“Oh, I couldn’t,” Lenora said, standing quickly and snatching the handkerchief from between them. She looked at it longingly, then glanced at her sister. “It would be so forward.”
“It’s not forward to call on a man who left you with a token,” Cassie said. “It is good manners.”
“But it would seem as though I were using his kind gesture as an excuse for an introduction.”
“Yes, that is exactly how it would seem because that is exactly what you would be doing. Father or Mama visit every new member of the parish. You’ll just be attending with them—we both will. You are not trapping him, only returning what he so generously loaned you in your time of need.”
Lenora started pacing, clenching the handkerchief tightly in her hand. “I couldn’t,” she said. “It wouldn’t be proper.”
For heaven’s sake! Cassie forced herself to take a breath and find another approach. “S
o you would keep his property instead? His monogrammed property, no less. You would decline an opportunity to thank him for his kindness and instead steal his handkerchief?” She tsked and shook her head as though disappointed. “That does not seem charitable to me, Lenora.”
Lenora stopped pacing and stared at the stolen article. Cassie could fairly hear the thoughts looping in her sister’s head. Afraid she might press too hard if she stayed, and hopeful that Lenora would choose the better course if she were not forced to defend herself, Cassie stood. She crossed to her sister and gave her a quick embrace. When she pulled back, she smiled. “I know you’ll do the right thing. I shall see you in the morning. Congratulations on a most excellent evening.”
She left Lenora standing in the middle of the floor, staring at the handkerchief and, quite likely, searching her soul. Cassie smiled all the way back to her room.
The next morning, Cassie slept later than usual. She assumed that because of the ball the entire family would sleep late—except Father, who never did—and took her time getting ready. She threaded a red ribbon through her braid before wrapping it into a bun. The red ribbon matched her favorite red shoes that went rather boldly with the sky-blue dress she’d chosen to wear. Sometimes the beauty of a thing was best noticed through the contrast of its accessories.
But the main reason she took her time was to give Lenora ample opportunity to be convinced of the only good and proper course regarding Mr. Glenside’s handkerchief.
Cassie could see exactly how things would play out: Once Lenora chose to do the right thing, she would talk to Mama, who would explain to Papa the need to visit the Glensides and convince him to take his family along. Lenora would return the freshly laundered handkerchief and share her stuttering thanks for the younger Mr. Glenside’s generosity. The awkward Mr. Glenside would be so charmed by sweet Lenora that he would court her for a few weeks, decide it was silly to waste time, and propose marriage. Lenora would make a lovely bride—perhaps in June, or even May. By fall, Cassie would be allowed to attend local social functions, and in the spring, she would have her official debut. By this time next year, she herself could be engaged. To Mr. Bunderson, perhaps, or maybe another gentleman who caught her eye or whose eye she caught. All because Cassie had decided to help her sister. Truly, service was good for the soul.
The Vicar's Daughter Page 4