by Cheryl Holt
“Why would I have to leave Fox Run?” she asked. “It’s a very large place. I doubt I’ll ever see him.”
“It’s not appropriate, Miss Etherton!”
There was a sense of finality in his words that informed her she daren’t argue the point.
“Whatever you think is best,” she murmured, which she didn’t believe at all.
“I’ll speak with my cousin after the meal. We’ll decide what’s to be done with you.”
“I’m sure you’ll come up with a fine plan.”
“Of course I will. Where you are concerned, I shall always guide you on the proper path.”
She took a deep breath, recognizing that she was about at the end of being able to keep a smile on her face.
There was nothing timid or humble about her character, and if the vicar viewed her as a meek mouse, in constant need of his supervision and direction, there were some very grueling years ahead for both of them.
“Now then”—he dabbed at his lips with his napkin and stood—“I have a surprise for you.”
“I love surprises. What is it?”
“It’s time for you to meet Mother.”
“I was hoping we’d be introduced.”
“She’ll live with us.”
“Ah…she will?”
“She had one of her sick headaches today, so she’s up in her room, but she’s waiting for us.”
“Is she ill often?”
“Not often.”
“It will be nice to have an older woman on the premises.” She was lying. She couldn’t imagine a more horrid fate than living with his mother. “I’m an orphan myself, so I never had a mother of my own.”
“The two of you will get on famously.”
“I’m certain we will.”
She stood and took his arm, holding tight so she wouldn’t be tempted to run out the front door when they passed by it on the way to the stairs.
* * * *
“What did you think of her, Mother?”
“She seems awfully…pretty.”
“Yes, she’s very pretty.”
Gertrude Bosworth glared at her son and complained, “You know my opinion about pretty girls, Ignatius.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“They don’t make good wives. They’re too set on themselves. They’re always gazing in the mirror, and they demand to be showered with baubles and fancy clothes.”
Ignatius snorted. “If she expects me to keep her in expensive petticoats, she’ll be disappointed. I have better things to do with my money than spoil my wife.”
“I’ve taught you well.” Gertrude nodded her approval.
They were in her sitting room. It was the only suite in the house, so she’d claimed it for herself. Ignatius was a bachelor and a dutiful child, so he didn’t mind. He understood that his mother’s wishes came first.
Miss Etherton was finally gone, and Gertrude and Ignatius could breathe a sigh of relief. Lord Sidwell had insisted Miss Etherton would be a fine match for Ignatius, and that ghastly Miss Peabody had insisted the same. Gertrude had let them convince her.
Yet Gertrude had been nervous. Ignatius needed just the right sort of bride, one who could be polite and subservient to Gertrude, but who still had the confidence to carry out her responsibilities as a vicar’s wife.
It was a position of high visibility and prestige that required a special person. Was that person Miss Etherton?
“What else did you notice?” Ignatius asked.
“She appeared quite vivacious.”
“She’s extremely vivacious.”
“She’s probably constantly smiling and cheery, even when the situation calls for circumspection.”
“She received a stellar education. That much was clear from her mannerisms and speech. She must have been coached in etiquette and decorum.”
“I suppose.”
“I found her to be pleasant.”
“You’re the one who has to live with her.”
“So do you, Mother.”
“Yes, well, it’s more important that you like her.”
“I must admit she worries me,” Ignatius mused.
“Why?”
“She’s been employed for years, so she’ll have had a taste of independence. It might be difficult for her to be ruled by her husband.”
“It’s the reason I detest this modern age,” Gertrude said. “A woman who earns her own income loses any sense of her lowly place in the world.”
“I agree. It’s madness for a female to work. It skews the balance of the universe. But she’ll do, Mother, don’t you think?”
“I imagine she will.”
Ignatius grinned, but it was grim and ghoulish. He’d never been handsome, was plain and gaunt. In that, he took after his father.
Gertrude had been the beauty in the family, and her stable life had left her plump from affluence. She was short and rounded, her once-dark hair a silvery gray, but at least she had her hair. Ignatius had very little remaining, and his baldness added to his morbid countenance. If he’d sought employment as an undertaker, no one would have been surprised.
Instead, he’d followed in his father’s footsteps. Gertrude’s husband had been a vicar who’d always been assigned to very wealthy parishes.
Ignatius had proved himself an adept student, so it was only natural that he join the clergy too. The decision had turned out to be excellent—for Gertrude. After her husband had died, she’d moved in with Ignatius, so she’d continued on in the types of vicarages where she was most comfortable.
Her sole regret was that he had to marry. She was perfectly content with it being just the two of them. Yet a man needed a wife, and he was already forty. They couldn’t keep putting it off.
When the subject was initially broached with Lord Sidwell, Miss Etherton had seemed an ideal candidate. She had no option but to wed, and with her having no alternative, she’d bend over backward to fit in, to please Gertrude. She would be grateful for the chance to be a bride.
And if she wasn’t? Well, Gertrude knew how to handle that kind of girl.
“So…we’ll go forward with her?” Ignatius asked.
“Yes, we’ll go forward.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
He’d spent most of the dowry, even treating Gertrude to a new fur-lined cape. If Miss Etherton had been horrid, and Ignatius had wanted to reject her, they couldn’t have returned the money.
“There’s one thing I forgot to mention,” Ignatius said.
“What is it?”
“Cousin Aaron is here.”
Gertrude scowled. “At Fox Run?”
“I guess he showed up yesterday with some friends.”
“Drat it.”
She’d been eager to impress Miss Etherton, so she’d convinced the housekeeper to let Miss Etherton stay at the manor. After all, the place was big as a castle. Who would notice or care if she was on the premises?
Gertrude had lied and claimed she’d gotten permission from Aaron, but she wouldn’t have dared to request such a favor from him, so his arrival certainly presented a conundrum. How would she explain herself?
“Is he aware that Miss Etherton is at the manor?”
“He is.”
“Is he aware that I arranged it?”
“He must be.”
“Is he angry? Do we know?”
“I don’t believe he’s upset. He’s invited us to supper this evening.”
“Supper! Well!”
“It’s been awhile since we dined out.”
Ignatius had been at his post for eight months, Lord Sidwell having helped him to secure the position.
In the beginning, they’d socialized regularly, but the invites had swiftly dwindled. Anymore, their acquaintances rarely thought to include them. It was a frustrating development she didn’t understand and had no idea how to repair.
“Who else will be there?” she asked.
“I expect it will be his London companions and Miss Etherton, but other tha
n that group, it will probably be various neighbors.”
She nodded, then stood and shooed him out.
“Leave me be, Ignatius, and send up my maid. I must decide what to wear.”
“Whatever you pick, Mother, you’ll be smashing.”
“I know.”
It was much too warm for her fur-lined cape, but Ignatius was generous about keeping her in fine clothes. She’d find something suitable.
* * * *
“Where is he?”
“George said he went to Fox Run.”
“Fox Run? Are you serious?”
Priscilla Cummings frowned at her mother, Claudia. They were at home in their front parlor. Claudia had just returned from an unsuccessful visit to Lord Sidwell.
“How could Aaron go?” Priscilla seethed. “Our wedding is in six weeks!”
“You needn’t remind me of how rapidly your wedding is approaching, Priscilla.”
Priscilla was Aaron’s fiancée. She was eighteen, and he was thirty. They’d been engaged for an entire year, the months dragging by with excruciating slowness. But now, as they neared the end, matters were speeding up. There were parties and balls and banquets. Priscilla was to be feted everywhere, but suddenly and without warning, Aaron had vanished.
It had taken them a few days to realize he was missing. There had been a small dustup between Aaron and her mother, having to do with Lucas’s betrothal to his ghastly fiancée, Amelia Hubbard. Some might even say that Claudia had schemed against Lucas, trying to prevent his marriage to Miss Hubbard.
Of course the person spewing those falsehoods was a renowned liar and trollop named Nanette Nipton. She was an unsavory doxy, but somehow, she’d persuaded Aaron that her story was true, and he blamed Claudia.
Aaron was the most predictable man in the world. He was even tempered and polite to a fault. She and her mother had been so certain he’d get over his fit of pique. After all, Lucas’s infatuation with Miss Hubbard was hardly worth a huge quarrel. But Aaron hadn’t come slinking back to apologize as Claudia and Priscilla had been positive he would.
Finally, Claudia had gone to speak with Lord Sidwell, only to discover that Aaron had sneaked off.
The next time Priscilla saw him, he’d definitely be informed as to how hideously he was treating her.
“Did Lord Sidwell give a reason for Aaron’s departure?” Priscilla asked.
“No.” Claudia shrugged. “He insisted he wasn’t aware that Aaron had left, that he’d just learned of Aaron’s absence shortly before I arrived.”
“Obviously, Aaron is still angry about your shenanigans with Mrs. Nipton.”
Claudia scoffed. “Angry? At me? Over a slattern like Nanette Nipton? Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone agrees that she’s lying, and you must stop proclaiming that she and I had an arrangement about Lucas. We most assuredly did not!”
Priscilla knew all about Claudia’s plot with Mrs. Nipton, but while Claudia told herself that people believed her over Mrs. Nipton, they didn’t. Claudia liked to envision herself as being very popular, but Priscilla had hung around in retiring rooms and heard plenty of gossip.
Claudia wasn’t the society darling she presumed herself to be.
“What is Aaron thinking?” Priscilla fumed. “How could he trot off like that?”
“With a man, who can guess? As far as I’m concerned, they’re all insane.”
“But not Aaron! He’d never intentionally embarrass me.”
“If that’s what you suppose, it’s clear I haven’t prepared you for your role as a wife.”
“What do you mean?”
“A husband will act however he pleases. He will come and go with no regard to your schedule or needs. He will humiliate you whenever the mood strikes him. He’ll have mistresses and gamble away your money and thoroughly shame himself.” Claudia flashed an annoying smirk. “And as a wife, you have to sit there and take it without complaint.”
“Honestly, Mother. That may have been your experience with Father”—Priscilla’s father had been dead for years, and by all accounts, her parents’ marriage bitterly unhappy—“but Aaron is different. He knows what I expect of him, and he’ll conduct himself accordingly.”
Claudia rolled her eyes. “I foresee decades of heartache in your future.”
“You were a milksop who let Father walk all over you, but I am not you. I stand up for myself. Aaron wouldn’t dare behave badly toward me.”
“Aaron wouldn’t? He’s flitted off to Fox Run, hasn’t he?” Claudia chuckled nastily. “What an immature little dunce you are.”
“I appreciate your glowing words of support,” Priscilla sarcastically said.
“You’re welcome.”
They glared, and for a moment, it seemed they might bicker, which they never did. They were very much alike and almost always in full accord. If they were currently out of sorts, it was Aaron’s fault. He was making them cantankerous.
Priscilla was the first to back away. “How shall I handle this situation, Mother? How can I force him to come home?”
“There’s not much you can do. He will remain at Fox Run until he’s ready to return.”
“But how will I explain his absence? I’ll be a laughingstock.”
“Yes, you will be.”
“People will titter behind their fans. They’ll spread awful rumors and say he’s having second thoughts.”
“Is he?” Claudia raised a caustic, perfectly plucked brow.
“Absolutely not,” Priscilla huffed.
“Then there’s nothing to worry about, is there?”
“No.”
Yet Priscilla was unnerved. Her mother was thirty-eight, and she was staring at Priscilla as if she knew secrets Priscilla didn’t know, as if she was privy to wisdom that only older women could ever attain.
“If Aaron isn’t here in a week,” Priscilla tersely stated, “I shall travel to Fox Run and bring him back.”
“You will travel to Fox Run? I really don’t believe you should.”
“Well, I’m not about to let this humiliation continue.”
“Let’s give it two weeks. Perhaps he’ll come to his senses without your having to make a fool of yourself by showing up there unannounced.”
“Why would I be making a fool of myself? I’m Aaron’s betrothed and about to be his bride. Once we’re wed, Fox Run will be my home. He should be happy to see me there, no matter the circumstances.”
“You may think that all you like, Priscilla, but I wouldn’t barge in without alerting him to your planned arrival.”
“Why not?”
“As I said, with men, you can’t predict their behavior. If you bluster in to Fox Run, there’s no telling what you might discover.” Claudia pushed herself to her feet. “Trust me, darling, there are some things a woman is better off not knowing.”
Her mother swept out, leaving Priscilla to fuss and fret and wonder what the devil she meant.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Miss Etherton!”
“Yes?”
Evangeline spun around to find Florella Bernard approaching.
Lord Run’s servants had quickly put together a very large supper party, with dozens of neighbors invited. The meal was over, guests scattered through the various parlors to socialize and mingle. Some were playing cards, some were talking. Evangeline had naturally gravitated to the music room where a neighbor’s daughter was playing the harpsichord. Evangeline could barely restrain herself from marching over and joining in.
Luckily, Evangeline hadn’t yet had to converse with Miss Bernard. During the meal they’d been seated at opposite ends of the table, but now Miss Bernard was barreling down on Evangeline, evidently intent on rehashing their prior encounter.
Evangeline’s cheeks flushed bright red. It was an annoying physical condition she couldn’t prevent. Whenever she was embarrassed or flummoxed, her skin gave her away.
“Hello, Miss Bernard.”
“Oh, you must call me Florella. Everyone does.”
; “Thank you,” Evangeline said, but she didn’t imagine she would and didn’t extend the same courtesy.
In her sheltered world, people didn’t use their Christian names, except on very familiar acquaintance. But then, since Evangeline had seen Miss Bernard removing her clothes, maybe they were already at that spot.
Her flush deepened as she recollected that Miss Bernard was Bryce Blair’s…mistress. They were a strange and decadent pair, and Evangeline wondered what the other guests would say if they knew the truth.
Evangeline wanted to shun them, but was confused about what her feelings should be. Lord Run was great chums with Mr. Blair and wasn’t bothered by Miss Bernard’s loose morals. If he wasn’t concerned, was it any of Evangeline’s business?
“Let me apologize to you,” Miss Bernard quietly beseeched.
“There’s no need,” Evangeline said. “I was spying when I shouldn’t have been, and I have no right to protest what goes on under Lord Run’s roof.”
“I would hate to have you think poorly of me.”
“I don’t,” Evangeline lied.
She hadn’t precisely settled on an opinion. Miss Bernard was a contradiction in terms. She was a famous actress and doxy, which should have indicated coarse character, but she had very gracious manners, was extremely charming, and had carried on a pithy conversation at the dining table. Only Evangeline had been aware of her more sordid propensities.
How could so many disparate traits be encapsulated in one woman?
“Aaron tells me you’ll be at Fox Run while we’re here,” Miss Bernard said.
“Well, I’m not sure. The vicar doesn’t believe it’s appropriate for me to remain now that Lord Run is in residence.”
“Nonsense. Of course you’ll stay, and I hope we’ll be friends. I hope you can overlook our little…difficulty.”
“There was no real harm done,” Evangeline told her, for she was a kind person and didn’t like to denigrate or hold grudges.
“Aaron also tells me that you’re quite an accomplished singer.”
“Lord Run said that?” Evangeline was secretly delighted that they’d discussed her.
“Yes, he was bowled over by you. My maid was too. Apparently, the whole house is agog.”