Inspired by Grace

by Jeanna Ellsworth

  Is she flirting with him? Gavin wondered.

  Silence laughed, bowed deeply, and kissed her hand. “The pleasure is entirely mine, Miss Iverson. Now, how is it that we have not met before? I know I would have sought an introduction to such a handsome lady if I had seen her. Kingston, how is it you have hidden this gem from me? Do tell me she is a cousin. Hopefully a distant one who has no chance of passing on your ugly features or your innate lack of humor. Oh, come now, Kingston, you must wipe that frown off your face; it limits your attractiveness even further.”

  Gavin turned to Robison and said, “Please bring tea, thank you.” He then turned toward Grace and saw that charming smile again being bestowed upon Silence and felt the need for a drink for the first time in three months.

  “Now, Miss Iverson,” Silence began, “do not tell me that you too have given up drink like Kingston.”

  Grace’s questioning look forced an explanation from Gavin. “I was a captain,” Gavin conceded, “so, of course I drank. We all drank as if we had hollow legs. There are few sailors, if any, who do not mute the hardships of sea with a bit of spirits. But I have recently sworn it off.”

  “I see,” Grace replied. “Well, to be honest, I rather detest the stuff myself. I do not like feeling like I am not in control of myself.”

  Grace smiled at Gavin, and he felt his heart begin to relax again. How on earth will I introduce her to anyone if I don’t even want to share her smiles with Silence?

  Grace turned back toward Gavin’s friend and said, “I was sorry to hear about Spencer, Silence. I spent many summers tagging along behind him. I grew up in Suffolk with the Kingstons and have very fond memories of him.”

  “Then we have something in common,” Silence said, “for there are few people who still hold Spencer in high regard. Gavin and I have been through it all together. We both saw Spencer walking the tightrope he called life and knew that sooner or later gravity would win. His untimely death was a terrible blow, but Gavin helped me through it. Unfortunately, Kingston tried for a while to drink his way through it, and that proved unsustainable. But in the end, he gave up the drink. I admire him for it, although it took him banishing all the alcohol from Willsing Manor and the rest of us enduring a few days of him in high dudgeon. He has not touched alcohol now in . . . how many months?”

  “Three,” Gavin answered. “So, stop trying to order Robison to bring you sherry. You know there is not a drop of it in the house.”

  “Indeed. But it never hurts to try. That is my life’s motto, which brings me back to you, Miss Iverson. Has anyone ever told you how beautif—”

  Gavin quickly cleared his throat and pronounced, “Silence, Silence!” Everyone laughed.

  “Well, Miss Iverson,” Silence chuckled, “thanks to you, I will never know whether Kingston is trying to quiet me or whether Harrison’s stuttering has become contagious. Speaking of which, Kingston, I am here to pass along a message: Harrison’s mare is ready if you wish to breed Zeus with her.”

  “Is that all you needed?” Gavin was hoping he would just leave. He found himself feeling quite protective of his time with Grace.

  “Kicking me out without tea? It is bad enough that you did not offer any port, but at least let me cool my saddle.” Without waiting for a reply from Gavin, Silence kissed Grace’s hand again and sat down on the sofa, motioning for her to join him. “Now, Miss Iverson, do not let Kingston’s coolness interfere with our short acquaintance. Please, sit down, and we shall hear what Kingston and his brother were like as children. No, wait, I have a better idea. Let us play a game. I shall act out something, and you tell me which brother it resembles.”

  Grace smiled again and said, “Only if I get a turn.”

  Silence’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed!” he declared. “I would be delighted to see you act!”

  Grace sat down and, reluctantly, so did Gavin. He would have preferred to be alone, or at least alone with Grace. He sighed. The morning was not turning out as he would have liked. First, he had remembered that terrible day ten years ago when he realized Grace considered him only a friend, and then he had recounted the grisly details of everything that happened six months ago. Undoubtedly the worst memories of his life. Now, it seemed he had to watch Silence flirt with Grace while they mocked him in his own house.

  But it really wasn’t so bad; he had spent the last hour entirely in Gigi’s presence. He would endure far worse to spend time with her. He took a seat that allowed him to observe her without being obvious.

  She had matured physically, and her gown accentuated her form in a modest way. Yesterday, he had initially thought she was only eighteen, but the more he studied her, the more he saw a maturity of spirit and mind that was almost incongruent with her tiny waist and petite arms.

  Silence went first and pretended to swing a cricket stick; Grace guessed Spencer right away. The tea came and each took a moment to enjoy it before the game continued.

  Gavin let his mind drift back. When he was young, he thought he knew what he wanted: a permanent playmate who would make him laugh and never tire of his jokes. But almost overnight he started seeing Grace in a different way. He suddenly noticed characteristics that were desirable, even irreplaceable. He had not found anyone else like her since. Soon, Gigi stood out in his mind as the paradigm that he measured every other lady against.

  Of course, she had some rough spots, just like anyone else. She had always been quick with her rebuttals, for instance; but truthfully, he did not mind being wrong. If anything, he liked seeing Grace aglow with success in debate. She prided herself on her wit and logic. She never argued unless she felt sure she could win, and she only fought the battles that needed to be fought. When he realized this about his best friend, their fights very nearly ended altogether. But sometimes, when he missed seeing the fire in her eyes, he egged her on just for fun.

  Gavin started to pay attention half-heartedly to what was happening in the room. Silence pretended to place something on the study floor and then mimed tripping over it. Gavin and Grace both laughed and knew he was referring to Gavin’s knack for tripping. Then it was Grace’s turn again. Instead of being offended by her mockery, he realized he was pleased to have an excuse to watch her so closely.

  She mimed someone walking along a fence, then falling off and crying over an injury. Gavin knew right away it was himself, the day he broke his foot, but didn’t say anything. Grace wailed and cried mock tears until her laughter exploded and the act was up. She quickly jumped up and curtsied to their applause.

  Gavin found the image of Grace crying unnerving. She had always kept such tight control over her emotions. He remembered the day his dog, Macie, had been run over by a carriage. Grace had loved that dog even more than Gavin. But she had refused to let her tears fall in front of him.

  She had responded to the dog’s death in a slightly exaggerated way, insisting that they dig the grave themselves. It started to rain halfway through, and her dress was soon covered in mud. But Gigi kept silently digging with a passion. It was as if she were racing her tears. The harder she worked, the longer her tears stayed away. When she finished, she lovingly wrapped the dog in her own shawl and lowered the body into the grave along with one of her watercolor paintings of Macie.

  Gavin had learned much about Grace that day. No matter how much pain she was feeling, she did not like to show emotion. Other ladies might talk about their problems, maybe even dramatically cry into their pillow for days and refuse to come to meals, but Gigi was different. Not until she patted the last bit of dirt on top of the fresh grave did she let her tears fall. He said nothing at the time to acknowledge them, but the muddy streaks on her cheeks were irrefutable.

  All that work and loyalty for a dog that was not even hers! That is when he grasped that she loved deeper than anyone he knew. It was true what they say—“Still waters run deep”. That night, Gavin had asked his mother if he could share his Latin tutor with Grace. He knew he wanted to spend as much time as possible with her.


  While at Eton, he secretly sent letters to Grace through his sister, Eliza. Grace did the same in reverse. Their parents never found out.

  The next summer, when studying History and Latin was not enough time together, he approached his mother about sharing a dancing master as well. He only had a month left of summer, and he was desperate to spend more time with her before he left. He knew he had approached the right parent when his mother readily agreed.

  He did not dare ask his father, who felt that Gavin spent far too much time with Gigi as it was. There had been several arguments over the years about it. “Gavin,” his father would say, “you are the son of a duke, and that Iverson girl is not worth the mud on your boots. Be careful not to track dirt into the house.”

  Gavin was only allowed to continue spending time with her because he assured his father that he felt nothing but friendship for Gigi.

  When the dancing master, Mr. Moser, was hired without the duke’s approval, Gavin’s father became suspicious again. Truthfully, Gavin had already been given several lessons while at Eton and hardly needed more practice. But the duchess had come to Gavin’s rescue and defended the arrangement. Eton only allowed the boys to dance with other boys, she had said, so it would be good for Gavin to practice dancing with a female partner.

  This seemed to satisfy the duke. If there was one thing that Gavin understood about his father, it was that the way his family was presented to society mattered a great deal. It was all about the show. So long as they performed their roles, no one would be the wiser to the conflicts at home. Gavin wondered if one of the reasons his father disapproved of Grace was because she was around often enough to see scenes where the show was not so well rehearsed.

  So, the summer he turned sixteen and she turned fourteen, they had two lessons a week. As each Tuesday and Friday afternoon approached, his heart would take flight. Nothing could dampen his spirits before or after a lesson. They were the highlight of the summer.

  The dance lessons were the last memories he had of her until yesterday. When he returned to Eton, the letters had suddenly stopped coming. His sister, Eliza, didn’t understand it either. Gavin worried about her so much that his grades began to suffer. When he learned her father had died, he assumed that was the reason for her silence. He had begged his parents to let him come home, but his father refused. He never heard from Grace again.

  He kept reviewing that last dance lesson and all that was said and all that had happened. Why had she stopped writing? Surely she could have used a friend during that time. Was she so afraid of showing emotion that she would refuse his friendship? Or had he been too forward in the last dance lesson? Should he have kept his peace? There were so many questions left unanswered around that time.

  Gavin hadn’t realized he had been staring at Gigi until she spoke to him.

  “Gavin, what is it? You look worried. Is something wrong?”

  Gavin forced a smile onto his face and said, “No, I just realized I have a few things to attend to. I must excuse myself. I shall see you, Silence, at the dinner on Thursday. I am sure my mother has included you in her list of eligible bachelors who may compete to sweep Grace off her feet and end her season with a bang.”

  Silence scoffed. “Is that so? But I can already tell Miss Iverson is too smart to be swept up by me. I am afraid the duchess does not know me well enough.”

  Gavin was pleased that Silence seemed slightly wary of the idea. “Well, although the accuracy of my mother’s judgment may be debatable, you made the list. But I warn you, Gigi is staying under my roof and therefore is my charge.”

  Silence raised his eyebrow suspiciously at the nickname he used. “Gigi?”

  Grace laughed and explained, “When I was five, I loved my full name so much that I would introduce myself to everyone as Grace Ingrid Genevieve Iverson. Gavin was two years older and learning to write his letters. His tutor would make him write short notes to his mother and father for practice. One day he decided he wanted to write me a letter. He was determined to write my full name, but his skill was not good enough to write, ‘Grace Ingrid Genevieve Iverson’. So his tutor suggested that he write just the initials, G-I-G-I. He rarely called me anything else. Honestly, it is strange to hear him call me ‘Grace’ again.”

  Silence said, “Well, Miss Grace Ingrid Genevieve Iverson, I look forward to seeing you again on Thursday.”

  “The pleasure will be all mine.”

  Gavin tried to control his emotions, but his words still came out clipped. “I will show you out, Silence.”

  Silence gave him a look that meant he understood. He politely bowed and followed Gavin out of the study. But once they had closed the door behind them, leaving Grace inside, Silence grabbed his arm and said, “Out with it! Who is she? And how long have you admired her?”

  *****

  Grace needed to stretch her ankle a bit and thought a walk in the gardens would be good—just a short one. She finished her tea and walked toward the door but paused when she heard Gavin’s voice on the other side. It had a deep, velvety, baritone quality; its smoothness flowed over her with a reassuring nature. She leaned her back against the door and listened. She was surprised to realize they were talking about her.

  “I already told you,” Gavin said. “She is Grace Iverson. We grew up together.”

  “Yes,” Silence replied, “but I have never seen you jealous over a woman before. Who is she really?”

  She heard Gavin sigh. “My best friend.”

  “But I have been your friend for five years, and I have never heard of Miss Iverson before. How can she be your best friend?”

  “I should say she was my best friend. Now I do not know what to call her. My mother has taken her in for the season and hopes to find a match for her.”

  “Where is her family?”

  “Both her parents have passed away. Yesterday was the first contact we have had in ten years. When my mother found out she was in town without a proper sponsor, she invited her to stay here.”

  “But you feel something for her. I see it. Is it wise to have her under your roof? In the same house?”

  “I would rather not discuss this, Silence.”

  “It will cause talk, Kingston. Marilyn from the Red Dragon asked where you were last night. Apparently you had plans to ‘show her the stars’, but you never showed up. And word is getting around that you failed to materialize at Sylvia Trementon’s tea yesterday. Listen, I am not saying everyone will pick up on your regard, but even Miss Iverson noticed you were staring at her.”

  Grace didn’t realize she was holding her breath. Did he really feel some regard for her?

  “Silence, Silence,” Gavin retorted.

  She heard them both chuckle quietly.

  Then she heard Silence ask a question. “Do you really admire her?”

  She leaned her ear against the door and listened with all her might, but Gavin’s voice was too low. She could only make out a few words: “ . . . friend . . . responsibility . . . now . . . no more . . .”

  “Very well, Kingston,” Silence sighed. “If that is your wish, I shall not mention it again.”

  “Thank you.” She heard their footsteps walk away.

  After a moment of shock, Grace walked over to the table and began gathering the teacups. The silver tea tray was highly polished, so reflective that she could see herself in it. She turned around to make sure no one was watching and gingerly held the tray up to her face.

  Her hair was ornately styled, twisted, and braided, nothing like her normal, simple bun. Her stubborn curls, usually spilling out everywhere, were each carefully pinned in place. The pearl-studded, flower hairpin was on loan from the duchess. It is probably worth more than a month’s food, Grace mused. Her mint green dress was perfectly pressed, not a single wrinkle in sight, and even the old tea stain on the shoulder had been cleaned by Charlotte last night without Grace knowing.

  What am I doing? This isn’t me. I don’t wear silver flowers and pearls in my hair. I don’t hav
e a lady’s maid. This arrangement, this life, was getting out of hand. She sensed she was setting herself up for disappointment. How could she stay here under Gavin’s roof when she still harbored feelings of familiarity for her best friend? Feelings that bordered on infatuation and, possibly even, love?

  She saw the light rouge that Charlotte had painted onto her cheeks and wondered what exactly Gavin had said so quietly. Did he admire her? The thought brought a deeper color to her cheeks. She surprised herself when she thought, I hope so. But one of the decipherable words he had said was “friend”. Is that all I am to him?

  CHAPTER 6

  Grace kept off her ankle as much as possible the rest of the day in preparation for that evening’s dancing plans with Gavin. Her foot was almost back to normal now. Only quick movements made her cringe. As Gavin escorted her into the music room that night, her nerves were a mixture of anticipation, elation, and hope. The pianoforte stood in its corner along with a harp. She could see that the chairs and other furniture had been pushed to the walls, turning the large room into a rather impressive dance floor. Even the rugs had been rolled up and moved to the side. She was surprised to see no one else in the room.

  “Gavin, who is going to play for us?”

  He grinned as if he knew a secret. “Follow me.”

  He led her to a beautiful table that held a wooden box. It was intricately inlaid with different colors of wood. As she came closer, she saw beautiful scenes in the design—a man with his eyes closed, passionately playing a perfectly shaped violin; a sumptuously ornate treble clef; and a couple waltzing in a close embrace. The artistic talent required to piece together these masterpieces was awe-inspiring.

  She couldn’t help but trace her fingers over the smooth images to feel the perfectly matched wood seams for herself. “Gavin, this is beautiful. What a work of art! Why do you not display this more prominently?”

  “Because it belongs in the music room.”