The Matrimony Plan

by Christine Johnson

  The words of the benediction floated past unheard. Gabriel couldn’t love Eloise—impossible. No, that look had been for her, Felicity Kensington. But he didn’t glance her way again, not even when exiting down the center aisle.

  The congregation filed out, and Felicity followed mindlessly. Progress proved slow since everyone was greeting Gabriel. Felicity watched him—how perfectly at ease he was, welcoming every member of the church as if they were part of his family.

  As Mrs. Grattan stepped forward to greet him, Felicity gasped. There, leaning against the wall, stood Robert Blevins. She’d forgotten she asked him to come to church this Sunday.

  He nodded at her, the tips of his mustache bobbing.

  She looked away. Clearly he expected her to join him, but if she did, any and all rumors would be confirmed. She balled her fists, praying Mother wouldn’t spot him.

  Mrs. Grattan finished greeting Gabriel, and Felicity stepped forward.

  “Good morning, Pastor.” The title sounded strange. “Very nice sermon.” For some reason, she couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say.

  “Thank you. I was nervous.”

  “I wouldn’t have known. You looked so secure.”

  He smiled politely. “I wasn’t.”

  Their exchange dwindled. The most important things couldn’t be said in front of her parents or anyone else. What’s more, Robert was walking toward them. Mother nudged her with an elbow. Felicity fixed her attention on Gabriel.

  “I particularly liked the part about loving each other.” Just mentioning the word love made her cheeks burn.

  “Thank you,” Gabriel said softly. “And thank you for the collar. It fits perfectly.”

  “What collar?” Mother demanded, simultaneously pinching Felicity’s arm to warn that she was not to proceed further.

  “Reverend.” Robert pushed past Felicity. “Good to see you again. Interesting sermon, but a bit too political for my taste.”

  Gabriel dutifully shook Robert’s hand. “I think that’s a compliment.”

  “Mr. Blevins is quite right,” said Mother, nose in the air. “Politics and religion don’t mix. You’d do well to remember that, Reverend.”

  Felicity blushed and silently apologized.

  “Dear Ms. Kensington.” Robert took her hand and placed it on his arm. “Before we address business, I understand the Founder’s Day celebration includes a dance.”

  Felicity recoiled, taking back her hand. Robert was headed in a direction she did not want to go. That night in the park had shown her where her heart lay, and it was not with Robert Blevins.

  “I don’t recall,” she said vaguely.

  “Yes, it does,” Daddy said, wrecking any chance she had of sliding out of this. “The Founder’s Day dance.”

  “Then I’d like to ask your daughter to join me at those festivities.” Robert glanced at Gabriel. “If someone hasn’t asked already.”

  Felicity prayed Gabriel would save her again.

  Instead, he dashed her hopes. “My sister, Mariah, is coming to visit. I’ll be busy.”

  Felicity could barely hide her disappointment.

  “Excellent,” Robert said, “then Ms. Kensington can join me.”

  No. That’s what she wanted to say, but for some reason she couldn’t get the word out. All she could remember was the rough kiss. Every fiber of her body said to refuse, so why couldn’t she say it? She opened her mouth.

  “Of course, she will,” Mother gushed. “She’d be delighted.”

  Robert grinned broadly. “Now then, Ms. Felicity, let’s talk about that stained glass window.”

  He led her toward the window, but she couldn’t keep her mind on trivial business. She was committed to attend the dance with Robert, but she so wanted to be there with Gabriel. He must sense how she felt. Why hadn’t he seized the chance to escort her to the dance? Instead he’d offered the flimsy excuse of a sister. No sister could stand in the way of a romance, unless…

  She caught her breath.

  Unless he loved someone else.

  Chapter Eight

  The window project forced Felicity to spend far too many hours in Robert’s company over the following days. He assessed the structural support. He measured and calculated and measured again, and through it all, he expected her to fetch and carry. She wished she’d never asked for his help.

  Each day she looked for Gabriel. Surely he would come to the church, but each day she was disappointed.

  “He’s making home visits,” Florabelle Williams sniffed while typing at breakneck speed, “and they’re not even sick.” Florabelle had been the church secretary—and Mother’s intimate insider—for as long as Felicity could remember.

  Felicity’s stomach knotted as she searched for an explanation that didn’t involve a budding romance. “Perhaps he’s getting to know members of the congregation.”

  Florabelle tossed her graying head. “He hasn’t come to my house yet.”

  Wise man. Florabelle and her daughter Cora, the postmistress and telephone operator, spread most of the gossip in Pearlman. Felicity would have saved that visit for last, too.

  “Who is he visiting today?”

  Ding. Without breaking rhythm, Florabelle whipped the typewriter carriage back. “How should I know? Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

  Her tone intimated Felicity did not have work, and considering most of her time was spent retrieving Robert’s instruments, Felicity had to agree. She returned to the window no wiser.

  “Where’s that eighteen-inch ruler?” Robert asked.

  For an engineer, he was remarkably disorganized. Each day he’d bring some of his measuring tapes and tools but forget others.

  “Why don’t you keep everything in a case?” she snapped as she handed him the ruler.

  Instead of taking it, he whistled. “That’s it.”

  “That’s what?”

  “The new window must weigh less than three hundred eighteen pounds.”

  “And what size would that be?”

  He looked at her as if she’d asked the stupidest question on earth. “That depends on the thickness of the glass and the quantity of leading, of course.”

  She hadn’t thought of that. “Well, about how big would it be with average thickness?”

  He snapped his notepad shut and patted her hand, a condescending gesture he used far too often. “Just specify the maximum weight when you place the order.”

  She bristled. “It’s not an order. It’s a commission.”

  She might as well have spoken to a brick. No matter how many times she corrected Robert, he never remembered. It was amazing that a Newport man would have no sense of the arts.

  She mentioned that to her mother when she relayed Robert’s conclusion.

  “Well, of course he doesn’t,” Mother said, pushing aside the slip of paper with the window specifications. It fluttered off the hall table, and Felicity snatched it midair. “A man’s head is filled with numbers and business, as it should be. It’s the wife’s role to bring art and culture into the home. And so you shall with your academy education.”

  Felicity didn’t know why Mother continued to insist on art school when her idea of the perfect suitor was at hand. “Suppose I receive a proposal this summer?”

  “Robert proposed?” Eugenia Kensington stopped fussing in the mirror.

  The idea nauseated Felicity, yet she had little choice. No other suitable man could be found. Gabriel didn’t have enough wealth and social standing to pass muster with her parents, and considering the way he was avoiding her, he didn’t even like her.

  “Well?” Mother glared at her. “Did Mr. Blevins propose or not?”

  Felicity jerked out of her wishful thinking. “Not yet, but it might happen.”

  Mother returned to her primping. “Goodness, child, you nearly stopped my heart. Now listen, if such a proposal should come, you must simply tell him to wait until you finish school. A man of quality will understand.” She blotted her
lip color. “Oh, and this came for you while you were gone.” Mother pointed to a small envelope before donning her hat and gloves. “It’s from the minister.”

  “Gabri—uh, Reverend Meeks?” A jolt of pleasure shot through Felicity. “What would he want?”

  “He’s having some sort of dinner for his sister tonight and asked you and Blake and Beatrice to attend.”

  “Oh right, his sister.” Felicity had not forgotten that was why he couldn’t escort her to the Founder’s Day dance. “Her name is Mariah, right?”

  Mother shrugged. “Whatever it is, she’s come to visit. Mrs. Evans tells me she’s very mannish and without the slightest social grace. A spinster. Why she’s nearly thirty and without a prospect in sight.”

  Apparently thirty defined spinsterhood, a fate that held increasing appeal of late. Felicity lifted the envelope and noticed the seal was broken. “You read my invitation?”

  “I needed to send your regrets.”

  “My regrets? But suppose I want to attend?”

  Mother opened the door. “Don’t be silly. Why would you attend the pastor’s dinner when Robert isn’t invited? Tell the cook I’ll be back at six and expect dinner promptly at seven. Oh, and get a bouquet of flowers for the table. The current ones are getting rather sad.” Without so much as a goodbye, she whisked out the door to the motorcar, where Smithson waited.

  Felicity seethed. Mother had no right to interfere. The sooner she could get away from here, the better. Alas, that meant marrying Robert and all his faults, but she didn’t have to submit to her ultimate fate this instant. Tonight she could enjoy Gabriel’s friendship. Blake and Beatrice would be there and so would his sister. That was reason enough to attend.

  She checked the invitation. The dinner began at six o’clock. If she hurried, she could retract her mother’s refusal.

  After changing into a cool, yet conservative ivory linen suit, she walked down the hill. The parsonage looked quiet. Slinky wasn’t in the backyard, and the front porch, easily the coolest place on a hot day, sat vacant. They were either indoors or gone.

  As she approached the porch, she caught a glimpse of a motorcar on the far side of the house and altered her path to get a closer look.

  Yes, it was a dusty touring sedan with a canvas roof and rather large tires caked in mud. Perhaps everyone was wrong, and Mariah did have a husband, or a brother drove her here.

  “Do you like it?”

  Felicity started.

  A plain, simply dressed woman with a strong resemblance to Gabriel approached from the backyard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m Mariah Meeks, Gabriel’s sister.”

  Felicity saw the family resemblance. Mariah had the same square shoulders and curling dark hair, bobbed in the latest fashion. She carried herself with the same confidence. Felicity immediately liked her.

  “Felicity Kensington. I’m a friend of your brother’s.” That awkward blush flashed over her cheeks. “Is this your car?”

  “She’s an Overland Model 90, self-starting.” Mariah opened the hood. “Four cylinders, very reliable, which is a good thing on a long trip.”

  “You drive?”

  “Of course.” She closed the hood. “How else would I get here?”

  Felicity stared first at the motorcar and then at Mariah. “You drove all the way here by yourself?”

  “Absolutely. The machine ran beautifully, and I only had to change two tires.”

  “You changed a tire?” Felicity could hardly believe a woman would do such a thing. Well, maybe Darcy Hunter. She was forever fussing over engines but not a minister’s sister.

  “Someone had to.” Mariah laughed. “Seeing as I was the only one around, it fell to me.”

  Felicity marveled at her frank manner. “But wasn’t it difficult? And dirty?”

  “It’s not my favorite thing to do, and yes, it’s dirty, but a little soap and water takes care of that.” She ran a loving hand down the front fender. “Gabriel had a fit when I drove up. He went on and on about how dangerous it was and how I could have been hurt and every other foolish excuse a brother can throw at you. I don’t suppose you have brothers.”

  “I’m afraid I do. One.”

  Mariah laughed. “Then you understand how overprotective they can be. Even though Gabriel is four years younger, he thinks it’s his responsibility to look after me. I expect it from my four older brothers, but not from him.”

  “Four?” The moment Felicity said it, she recalled Gabriel’s assertion he had five siblings. “I can’t imagine having that many brothers.”

  “Mom had her hands full.” Mariah threaded her arm around Felicity’s. “Would you care for a glass of iced tea? I discovered the icehouse still has a good supply of ice despite the heat.” Within moments, Mariah drew Felicity into the kitchen, where they were greeted by Slinky, sporting his new collar.

  The dog barked eagerly, and Felicity had to stoop for kisses.

  Mariah wiped her hands and poured two cups of tea from the pitcher on the table. “He really likes you. What a name, though. I can’t believe Gabe would call him that.”

  “Oh, Slinky was already his name. He’s the town stray, and everyone calls him Slinky because, well, because he tends to get into places he shouldn’t.”

  Mariah’s laughter warmed Felicity. So this is what it was like to have a sister.

  “Perfect for Gabe. He was always getting into places he shouldn’t.”

  “Really?” Felicity sipped her cool tea. “He seems so formal and, well, righteous.”

  “Righteous?” Mariah’s laughter pealed through the house, making Slinky bark.

  Felicity looked around in alarm. “Shh, he’ll hear you.”

  “Don’t worry. Gabe’s not here. Not that his presence would stop me. He gets too serious sometimes and needs a little boot in the behind to remind him he wasn’t always so perfect. Let me give you an example. When he was little, he took Mom’s favorite dress and cut it to pieces to make bandages for our dogs and cats. He told Mom he was curing their injuries.”

  Felicity had difficulty imagining this side of Gabriel. “What did your mother do?” Her mother would have had her sent to her room without supper.

  “Oh, she was angry at first, but when she saw the dogs and cats running around with their colorful little bandages, she just couldn’t yell at Gabe.” She paused, growing serious. “The day before, he’d seen a neighbor’s dog get hit by a motor truck.”

  A pang of sympathy tore through Felicity’s heart—the poor dog, poor little Gabriel. A flash of memory brought sudden tears. Years ago, she’d stumbled upon a possum, shot for sport. It struggled for life, its legs pawing at the air for long, horrible minutes. She’d prayed for God to take away the creature’s pain. She’d wept over its still body. And she hoped God made a place in heaven for the innocent whose lives had been stolen away too soon.

  “It’s all right.” Mariah wrapped an arm around Felicity’s shoulder and handed her a handkerchief. “Making bandages was Gabe’s way of coping. He takes things too much to heart sometimes. That’s why Mom and Dad worry about him choosing the ministry. There’s so much heartache a pastor must bear, and they don’t know if he’ll be able to hold up.” She gave Felicity a final squeeze. “Forgive me. I’m babbling on and on about my family without giving you a chance to tell me about yours.”

  “Mine?” Felicity searched for what to say as she folded and refolded Mariah’s handkerchief. Everyone in Pearlman knew the Kensingtons. The girls at Highbury cared only that her family came from the country. They didn’t want to hear about her lavish home and expensive gowns. She was not sophisticated enough to be one of them. But all of that seemed foolish next to Mariah’s honest and caring family.

  She handed the handkerchief back to Mariah. “There’s nothing much to say.”

  “You mentioned a brother,” Mariah urged. “Older or younger?”

  “Older. Blake manages the mercantile and helps with a couple other family businesses. Oh, and he�
��s involved in the new airfield project. We funded Jack Hunter’s transatlantic flight attempt last year.” At last she found something worth mentioning.

  “Hunter? I don’t recall reading his name in the newspapers.”

  “They crashed.”

  Mariah gasped. “Did they…?”

  “Everyone was all right,” Felicity said, “but it was a big event around here.”

  “I imagine so. I’m glad to hear your brother wasn’t injured.”

  “Oh, he doesn’t fly. He’s just interested in aviation. You’ll meet Blake and his wife tonight at dinner. In fact, that’s why I’m here. Contrary to what my mother told you, I would like to attend.”

  “We’d be glad to have you.” Mariah didn’t miss a beat in the conversation. “Is Blake your only sibling?”

  “Yes.” Once again, she felt deficient. Mariah had so many brothers, a house filled with laughter and activity, not the cold mansion Felicity had grown up in. “I always wondered what it would be like to have a sister.”

  Mariah squeezed her hand. “Me, too.”

  Time flew past as Felicity and Mariah shared stories about their families. Felicity sucked in every tale about Gabriel and reluctantly shared her own unexciting childhood. With Mariah, Felicity didn’t need to worry about making a good impression or upholding the family name. Felicity wished they could talk forever, but at last Mariah noted the time.

  “Goodness, it’s nearly four-thirty. I need to start cooking.”

  Felicity blinked in surprise. “You’re cooking?” For the first time in her life, she felt ashamed to have a cook and servants to wait on her. How much happier Mariah seemed than anyone in her family—how much more content and able to cope with life’s troubles.

  “It won’t be fancy, but it’ll taste good. Would you like to help?”

  Felicity had never so much as lifted a spoon, but she wasn’t about to admit her ignorance. “I’m sorry. I need to go to the florist. Mother will be furious if I don’t have a fresh bouquet sent.”