The Vicar's Daughter

by Josi S. Kilpack

  Did she have to tell Lenora of the letters before the dinner party? Lenora would not end up having a private enough conversation with Mr. Glenside that he might mention their letters. Surely not.

  Cassie picked up the basket and the stool, one in each hand, and turned back toward the house, pondering the situation. Knowledge of the letters would only increase Lenora’s nerves—that was true enough—but that wasn’t why she argued the point.

  Cassie knew Mr. Glenside better than any other person in Leagrave, perhaps even better than his own uncle did. She knew his discomforts, his fears, and his hopes for the future. How could she simply hand such knowledge to Lenora? It didn’t seem right, even though it was what she’d intended all along. So then why did it feel so right not to tell her the truth?

  Cassie chose not to share the letters with Lenora, and the closer the family carriage got to Glenside Manor on the night of the dinner party, the tighter Cassie’s stomach seemed to wind in upon itself. Had she ever been so nervous in her life?

  She put a hand to her stomach and glanced at Lenora, seated across from her and staring out the window. Was this how her sister felt at every social event she attended? Equal parts eager and anxious, confident and insecure? Such feelings on a regular basis would drive anyone to madness. Cassie didn’t know how she would eat let alone attempt any kind of conversation. Would she react to Mr. Glenside’s rich blue eyes with the same dizziness she’d felt at the social?

  “Are you all right, Cassie?”

  Cassie looked across the carriage at her mother and forced a smile. “Of course.”

  Mama glanced at Cassie’s hand pressed against her stomach. “You seem anxious.”

  Cassie moved her hand to her side while searching for an explanation. “I’ve never been to Glenside Manor,” she said with a shrug. “I suppose I am a little nervous.”

  The dinner invitation, direct from Mr. Hastings Glenside, had arrived two days after Cassie had left the basket of toffee in the glen. The invitation had included an apology for Mr. Glenside’s actions during Papa’s visit last month. Papa had then recounted the visit, and Cassie could imagine the young Mr. Glenside heroically caught between the two men yet keeping his actions noble. The man’s excellent character should put Cassie’s mind at ease, but instead her thoughts began swooping and spinning at a fever pitch. Handsome and kind and noble?

  “No need to be nervous,” Papa said, looking up from the sermon he was reviewing. “Mr. Glenside was most apologetic in his note, and I look forward to making better acquaintance with his nephew.”

  Mama did not seem to believe Cassie’s explanation and watched her carefully.

  Cassie turned her attention to Lenora. “Are you not nervous too, Lenora?”

  Lenora paled a shade lighter than she already was and nodded vigorously. “My heart is in my throat.”

  No one questioned her anxiety or gave her curious looks.

  Instead, Mama patted Lenora’s knee. “There is no need for anyone to be nervous about this evening.” She included Cassie in her glance. “Mr. Glenside is a good man, deeply wounded by the tragic loss of his wife. I can’t fault him for the pain he feels. That he is extending an olive branch is a remarkable thing.” She smiled sideways at Lenora. “Perhaps his nephew is a good influence on him and that is why he has softened. I must say he is exactly the type of man parents dream of for their daughter.”

  Cassie swallowed while Lenora’s pale cheeks flushed scarlet. Must Mama have used the word “dream”?

  “I have never even spoken to him, Mama,” Lenora said in a shaky voice. “What will I say if he attempts to speak with me?”

  “I would not give too much thought to that,” Mama said, patting Lenora’s knee. “Lucy played the pianoforte, so I suspect the instrument shall be available for you after dinner, and when I returned our acceptance of the invitation, I provided a seating arrangement that will keep you from sitting next to Mr. Glenside.”

  “Mama,” Cassie said, shocked that her mother had taken the liberty of arranging someone else’s dinner.

  “It is not entirely unheard of,” Mama defended, straightening her shoulders. “Especially in a home without a woman to pay mind to such details. Knowing that Lenora would . . . struggle, I suggested that she be seated next to me and that you, Cassie, be seated across the table beside the younger Mr. Glenside.”

  It was Cassie’s turn to pale. “I am to sit beside the nephew? I am not even out.”

  “Says the girl who has thrown a number of fits about that very circumstance,” Mama said, looking curious again. “Besides, this is nothing more than dinner with our parishioners. You are comfortable with conversation and easy with new acquaintances. It will be good for you to help facilitate good relations through this dinner as well as give Lenora an example for her own future interactions. We all have a part to play.”

  “As long as my part is at the piano.” Lenora did not seem the least bothered that Cassie was being given the charge of entertaining the man the whole family seemed to have chosen for Lenora.

  Cassie leaned against the side of the old carriage—older than she by nearly a decade—as it made the turn into the manor drive. There was no point in arguing, and she would be dishonest if the idea of close conversation with Evan didn’t excite her more than a little. It also terrified her. What if she inadvertently spoke of something from the letters? What if she ruined everything? The briefest thought further shamed her: If she ruined everything for Lenora, might that leave Mr. Glenside available . . . for her?

  Oh, she was wicked.

  The carriage slowed, marking limited time remaining for Cassie to gather her wits. Smile and breathe, she told herself, repeating the advice she’d given to Lenora the night she encountered Mr. Glenside for the first time. Cassie could only hope the counsel would be as helpful to her now as it had been to Lenora then.

  Cassie’s hands were sweating within her gloves when they were shown into the drawing room. Mr. Glenside and Evan stood, and Mr. Glenside stepped forward and extended his hand to Papa. The humility of the action distracted Cassie from her discomfort for a moment. Papa took Mr. Glenside’s hand and they shook one time, firm and full.

  “Thank you for coming,” Mr. Glenside said, straightening his coat in a display of his own nerves. He rarely entertained, if ever, and was making great effort tonight. Cassie appreciated it.

  “Thank you for having us,” Papa said, bowing slightly. “I am humbled and very grateful for the invitation.” They exchanged a smile and that was that. Men were far more simple in their resolutions than women, Cassie decided.

  “You remember my wife,” Papa said, beginning the introductions that included the rest of the family.

  “Wonderful to finally meet you,” she heard Evan say to Lenora.

  “A pleasure,” Lenora said, surprising Cassie. Her face was bright red. She was not looking into Evan’s handsome face, but she’d spoken. That should feel like a success, but it somehow increased Cassie’s nerves.

  Cassie met Evan’s eye when Papa introduced him to her. As soon as her gaze locked with his, it became hard to look anywhere else. Oddly enough, however, her nerves calmed, replaced with a comfortable willingness to be in his company for any reason at all—even as a decoy for Lenora’s benefit.

  “It is a pleasure to see you again, Miss Cassandra,” Evan said, bowing slightly as though he’d been doing it all his life. She felt oddly proud of him.

  Cassie curtsied without looking away. “As it is to see you, Mr. Glenside.”

  The smile he gave her was like a flash of sunshine catching the surface of Miller’s pond, transfixing and glorious.

  “Well, then, let’s move on to dinner,” Mr. Glenside said, leading the way in an informal manner. Papa put out his arm for Mama, but the rest of them kept their own company.

  Cassie fell into step with Lenora out of habit, which had the added bene
fit of being behind Mr. Glenside and therefore being able to take in the form of him—long legs, broad shoulders. A soft sigh from Lenora reminded Cassie which of them should be noticing such things.

  And which of them should not.

  There was just enough tension between the older Mr. Glenside and his servants to prove that the entire household was unused to having guests. Luckily for Mr. Glenside, the Wilton family was used to a variety of households. They had eaten fine dinners in grand houses as well as mutton stew from bowls held in their laps in some of the humblest homes in the village. Cassie wondered if anyone but Mr. Glenside and his nephew had sat at this table since Mrs. Glenside’s death, and the thought humbled her even more.

  “Evan tells me that the May Day celebration was excellent,” Mr. Glenside said.

  Mama quickly picked up the subject and an easy conversation ensued. Cassie was only peripherally involved, which suited her just fine since it allowed her to concentrate on her dinner companion’s every movement. He counted the forks under his breath before picking up the outermost, which made her smile, and then he held his soup spoon wrong for the first two bites before realizing his error and correcting his hold. Cassie didn’t understand why his actions were so endearing, but they were.

  “The soup is excellent,” Cassie said to Evan, as though he had any part in its creation. Her parents and Mr. Glenside were in an attentive conversation about the new magistrate, allowing Cassie the chance for a side conversation. Lenora was intent upon her bowl.

  “It is,” Evan agreed. “Cream of asparagus, I believe.”

  “I do love asparagus.”

  “As do I,” Evan said. He then paused, his spoon halfway to his mouth, and shook his head.

  “What?” Cassie asked with a soft laugh. “What are you shaking your head about?”

  He smiled and gave her a sideways glance. “Only that I’m having a conversation about asparagus.”

  “There are worse topics,” she said with a teasing grin. “Once we spent most of the night discussing manure with a farmer in the parish.”

  He chuckled.

  “It is no joking matter,” Cassie said with feigned sincerity. “You would not believe the differences, and you should know that too much of the wrong choice could burn your crops straight through.”

  Evan raised his napkin to his mouth as he hid a laugh behind it.

  Lenora glanced at him, but when he met her eye and smiled, her face went red and her eyes jumped back to her soup. Evan’s laugh subsided. He watched Lenora a moment longer, and then returned to his dinner more subdued. When Cassie spoke next, she raised her voice so that Lenora could hear them more easily. For Lenora, for Lenora, for Lenora.

  “I hear that your mother and sisters will be coming to Leagrave in a few months’ time.”

  He looked surprised, and she raised her eyebrows, willing him to remember that “Lenora” had told him Cassie knew about the letters. Cassie nodded slightly in Lenora’s direction, and he seemed to make the connection. His expression relaxed.

  “Yes, in August, we hope.” Evan also spoke louder in order to include the others at the table more directly. “Uncle Hastings has been very generous to offer them the Dower House.”

  “Only done right by my place,” Mr. Glenside said sheepishly. “I’m ashamed I wasn’t more aware of the family’s situation before.”

  Cassie noticed Evan’s shoulders tighten, but he did not drop his smile. “Very generous.” He turned back to his soup.

  “That reminds me,” Mr. Glenside said, turning toward Papa. “I’m in need of a good plaster man. Do you know of anyone in the village? It’s been some time since I’ve had need of such.”

  “Oh, yes,” Papa said, clearly pleased to be consulted. “Marcus Holland does excellent work—he and his sons—and at a fair price.”

  “Howard Holland’s son?” Mr. Glenside said. He offered up a story of childhood antics undertaken with this Howard Holland, whom Cassie had never heard of. He was likely dead, but alive in the memory of Mr. Glenside and her father.

  Cassie turned her attention back to Evan. “You must be excited for your family to join you.”

  “I am.” He took the last bite of soup, scraping his spoon against the bottom of the bowl, which caused the three Wilton women to share an amused look; genteel society did not make noise with their dishes. For Cassie, it was yet another endearment.

  “Tell me about your mother,” Cassie asked, eager for more information. “Our family will embrace her and your sisters, of course, so we would love to know more.”

  “She will be grateful for your friendship, as will I. I worry for their transition.” He cast an anxious look at Mama, as though asking whether it was appropriate for him to bring up the topic.

  “Transitions are very difficult,” Mama said as a good vicar’s wife should. “You must know we will help in any way possible. Like Cassie, I should like to know everything I can about your family before they arrive.” She paused, then hurried to add, “Lenora is very interested in learning about them, too.”

  All eyes turned to Lenora, who again turned crimson. She stared into her empty soup bowl as though pretending she hadn’t heard her name.

  Oh, Lenora, Cassie thought with a sigh. How can you be so uncomfortable with a man like Evan?

  Evan watched a moment, as though waiting for some commentary from silent Lenora, then turned his attention to Cassie. He began to speak of his mother with an affectionate tone that became yet one more point in his favor . . . for Lenora.

  The comfortable mood of the meal continued through the dessert course—an excellent tart—at which point the party stood together. The women moved to the drawing room, which was somewhat strange since there was no woman of the house to host them there, while the men stayed behind for their port.

  As soon as they entered the room, Lenora hurried to the pianoforte, sat in the chair, and began playing scales, something she often did to calm herself when her anxiety was extreme. Cassie sat down to wait for the men to join them. She hoped they would not linger too long over their drinks.

  “Well, that went better than I expected,” Mama said, sitting by Cassie with a satisfied smile. “I am so relieved.”

  Cassie nodded her agreement, but she cast a glance at the doorway, eager for Evan to arrive. The room felt almost chilly without his presence.

  “You played your part very well, Cassie.”

  Cassie looked at Mama. “Oh, yes, thank you. Mr. Glenside is a good conversationalist.”

  “That he is. I hope he will be well accepted here.”

  “He seems to be thus far, and I’m sure he will only improve upon the village the longer he is here.”

  “Which makes this dinner even more important,” Mama said.

  Lenora transitioned from scales into something by Tchaikovsky, and both Cassie and Mama looked her direction. She’d calmed considerably, and Mama let out a relieved sigh. “He is perfect for her.”

  Cassie’s smile tightened. She nodded because she knew she should, but she wanted to ask what made Evan perfect for Lenora. Was it because no man of their equal class would have her? That because he was new to this society, he would accept her failings? They were uncharitable thoughts to be sure, but Cassie told herself she was trying to look out for Evan as much as she was trying to look after Lenora. After all, a poor match would be painful for everyone.

  The men entered the drawing room, and Cassie found herself sitting up straighter and wishing she’d taken the chance to check herself in the small mirror by the door to make sure she looked as pleasing as possible. A few pinches to her cheeks would have brought out the color. Why had she not thought to do as much? She’d worn her lavender evening dress—the one with the lace bodice and pleated hem. She loved it because of the small black stripe in the purple silk. Would Evan notice the stripe? Would he agree that the purple enhanced her green-go
ld eyes?

  The conversation continued as easily as it had during dinner. Cassie thought it remarkable how well Mr. Glenside and Papa were getting on after so many years of discord. The seating was such that Cassie could not engage Evan in conversation, but it did not prevent her from watching him. Admiring him. Listing his numerous qualities in her mind.

  After a few minutes of listening to the conversation between the older men, Evan moved to stand beside the pianoforte. A surge of jealousy took Cassie by surprise, and as soon as she recognized the feeling, she tried to talk herself out of it. But then Evan murmured something to Lenora, and she smiled—a tiny, nervous smile—and he said something else. Lenora smiled again.

  Watching them together reminded Cassie that Evan believed Lenora was writing him secret letters and that Lenora believed he was interested in knowing her better because of Cassie’s dream. There was no way for her to undo what she’d done. The proof was before her eyes. Even so, she desperately searched for some way to do just that, finally admitting to herself that she’d been searching for such an option ever since she’d met Mr. Glenside at the May Day celebration.

  Evan stood just behind his uncle as Mr. Wilton disappeared out the front door along with his daughters and his wife. After Jeremiah closed the door, Uncle turned to Evan, a smile on his face. “You were right to suggest I invite them over,” he said graciously, clapping the younger man on the back. “It is a relief to feel as though any difficulty I might have caused when the vicar last visited has been remedied. I do not like contention, though one might find it hard to believe after how I behaved that day.”

  “You behaved admirably tonight. The evening seemed to be a great success.”

  “It did, didn’t it?” Uncle puffed out his chest some, then laughed and began walking. “Join me in the study for a glass of brandy to celebrate.”