Chapter 11
E
MMELINE ENTERED NORAH’S bedchamber in a swirl of expensive scent and mink and cousinly concern. She wrapped her arms around Norah and held her tight. “Oh don’t cry, Nottie! I’m here! Everything is all right now. I’m here.”
She petted Norah soothingly and squeezed too tightly. The odd thing was, everything was better with Emmeline there. Money and men might come and go, but Emmeline would always and forever be on Norah’s side in any battle or adversity. She was loyal and silly and charmingly oblivious to the end.
“I’m so embarrassed, Em,” Norah wailed. “I squashed him! Everyone! Squash! Like a beetle, right on the floor!”
“Nonsense. You floated down like a rose petal. Your gown fluttered. Your hair still looks very nice, even after such an ordeal.”
“Really?” Norah sniffed and patted her hair. “I think I’m drunk.”
Emmeline blithely ignored the unladylike reference to drinking. “Oh yes. Did you use extra pins today?”
Norah blew her nose on her handkerchief, distracted from her wailing. “I did, actually.”
“I told you so.” Emmeline tucked Norah close and rocked her gently. “Now about that ladder. You’re not allowed to die, Nottie. I won’t have it.”
Norah rested her head on Em’s delicate shoulder, though it was a bit pointy.
Miss Higgins handed Norah a beautiful silver box. “This is for you, Miss. The vicar dropped it when you fell.”
Norah blinked at the opulent gift. “From the vicar? For me? That can’t be right.”
Emmeline squealed. “It was saved! How divine!” She opened it to display the contents. “From me, too. I told him you’d like them. Lots of them!”
Norah gazed down at the bounty of expensive chocolates and sighed. She wasn’t opposed to a sweet now and then, but the world was under the impression that Miss Norah Grey ate them by the shovelful. It was Emmeline’s doing. Her family role as sacrificial bride didn’t allow her to indulge in anything that might ruin her figure, so for years Norah had been the one who took extra servings of sweets and then secretly shared them with Emmeline.
No one cared what Norah’s figure looked like, after all.
The fact that John Barton now thought Norah devoured double servings of chocolates shouldn’t bother her. What difference did it make?
Still, it stung.
Emmeline was working her way through the dainty treats, taking a single bite out of each one and sighing with childish delight. Of course, she was adorable. Norah couldn’t stay angry with Emmeline. She never could.
The whiskey seemed to be wearing off a bit. The room wasn’t spinning and Norah no longer felt the urge to wail. Miss Higgins’s strong tea was bracing in itself. Norah rather thought it also might be very good for cleaning axle grease.
She looked up over her teacup rim to see Lady Bernadette studying both her and Emmeline with an expression of enlightenment on her usually cheerful features. Norah lowered her cup. “Yes, my lady?”
Lady Bernadette smiled slowly. “Neither of you are who you appear to be, are you?”
Norah felt defensive on Emmeline’s behalf. “She has to behave that way. It’s not her fault.”
Emmeline twined her fingers with Norah’s. “And Nottie helps me. I’d never be able to win the game without her.”
“The game? Do you mean finding a husband?”
Emmeline gave a tinkling laugh that sounded like angels playing golden harp-strings. “Oh yes. That, too. The Society Game. The dance of status and social and political benefit.” Suddenly Emmeline sounded like a cagey politician, which wasn’t surprising considering Uncle Bester’s behind-the-scenes involvement in Parliament.
Norah nodded. “It’s a blood sport, my lady. At least, coming from where we are.”
Lady Bernadette’s smile widened into a grin. “And you two are masters of the game, is that it?”
“I’m better at it than Nottie, even though she is more quick-thinking than I. But she gets angry and then doesn’t play well. I never get angry,” Emmeline said with great seriousness. “Nottie sits on me if I become ill-mannered.”
Clearly fascinated, Lady Bernadette leaned in. “I’m afraid I didn’t play the game. I won by accident, I suppose?”
Emmeline nodded. “Exactly. But it still counts because you scored high romantically. It wouldn’t do for everyone to play for love, or no important family alliances would ever happen.” She held up one finger, like a teacher instructing a student. “However, the occasional romantic win gives the rest of the players hope. Do you see?”
“Amazing.” Lady Bernadette shook her head. “Matthias and I sweetened the pot and I never even knew it.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Now I’m passionately curious if he knew it.” Then she narrowed her eyes at them, sharply focused once more. “So how does John Barton figure into this game? A Staffordshire vicar can’t bring in very high points, can he?”
Norah was about to agree with her ladyship, but Emmeline giggled.
“He can when he’s the son of the Bishop of Gloucester!”
Norah’s head snapped around. She stared at Emmeline. “He is?”
Lady Bernadette nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, he is. I’d forgotten that. He never speaks of it.”
“He told me the night I woke up,” Emmeline said smugly.
He never said a word to me. All the talks they’d had and he’d never mentioned anything of his life before he came to Haven.
“Papa thinks it’s a very acceptable alliance, politically,” Emmeline went on. “And the way we met earns high romance points as well. It would be different if I weren’t an heiress, of course. I’d have to look for someone a bit more well set.”
Norah’s stomach dropped. She’d thought Emmeline had only been flirting, spinning her web. Practicing.
Lady Bernadette seemed to be on the same track. “So are you seriously pursuing a proposal?”
“Papa said I should,” Emmeline said calmly. “Papa has several investors in Gloucester and many political associates as well. There’s much to be gained from such an alliance.”
Norah barely heard her. Emmeline sounded quite decided.
“And I’ll be twenty soon, so there really isn’t a moment to waste.”
“Lady Emmeline, aside from your father’s machinations, how do you feel about John Barton?”
Norah’s attention awoke. Yes, good question. She bit her lower lip waiting to hear Emmeline’s response.
To her surprise, Emmeline blushed. “He’s very handsome. I quite turn to butter when he takes my hand.” Then she actually let out a wistful sigh. “I like him very much. He’s so kind. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man so kind.”
So Emmeline did see John as a man and not just a target. Reassuring and horrifying at the same time. With her beauty and wealth? And then sincere liking as well? John Barton didn’t stand a chance.
Norah frowned. “But what about Bertie?”
“Bertie?” Lady Bernadette widened her eyes.
“Lord Bertram Ardmore,” Norah explained. “Some people call him Purty Bertie, for he is a bit of a dandy.”
Emmeline smoothed a fold in her skirts. “Bertie wasn’t serious about me. He was only passing the time.”
Lord Bertram had seemed quite keen to Norah. He wasn’t politically advantageous in himself, being more interested in fashion and his social life—much like Emmeline!—but his wealth and title could have been parlayed into useful connections. Uncle Bester had supported the match. Even Norah had been inclined to approve.
When Lord Bertram stopped calling upon Emmeline last season, Norah had assumed that Emmeline had discouraged him now that Kewell Abbey no longer needed his income. He was just one of many suitors and Emmeline seemed to forget him quickly.
Of course, Norah didn’t blame Emmeline, for John Barton was much more handsome than Lord Bertram. As well as strong and kind and warm and honest...
He held me on the bridge.
I am in such a pickle.
Emmeline turned back to Lady Bernadette with a bright smile. “Don’t you see? John would be family for certain then. Not simply a family friend!”
Lady Bernadette relaxed and smiled as well. “Yes, that would be wonderful.” Somewhat wryly, she added, “I know Matthias would be over the moon with joy if John married.”
Numbly, Norah wondered what solemn, brooding Lord Matthias looked like when he was over the moon with joy. Probably still solemn but slightly less brooding.
What would John Barton look like when he was over the moon with joy? As perhaps on his wedding day as he took his forever vows with England’s most beautiful bride?
Norah felt ill. I don’t think I want to know.
IT WAS A good thing Miss Higgins brewed such uncompromising tea, for before Norah was entirely free of the whiskey’s embrace, there arose yet another ruckus.
A chambermaid dashed into Emmeline’s chambers and hauled Lady Bernadette away at a run. Miss Higgins took a moment to check Emmeline’s teeth for chocolate (she found none) and to assess Norah’s ability to maneuver the stairs and speak coherently.
“Just keep your thoughts to yourself and only answer direct questions and you’ll do fine, miss. And your hair still looks right nice.” Miss Higgins glanced at Emmeline. “Extra pins you reckon, my lady?”
Emmeline nodded. “Simply loads.”
Miss Higgins brushed a last few evergreen needles from Norah’s gown. “My thanks for the hint, my lady. My Lady Bernadette’s hair is a right trial, it is.”
Miss Higgins pronounced them acceptable. “Now hurry on down to greet the new guests. Milady’s aunt and uncle are here, a day late and dead tired I expect, so step quickly or you’ll look like snobs for missing them when milady stuffs them into their beds for a nap.”
As they hurried from Norah’s chamber, Emmeline whispered to Norah, “I wonder if I could hire Higgins away from Havensbeck. I should enjoy such honesty, shouldn’t you?”
Knowing that Emmeline didn’t give much thought to the private lives of servants, Norah didn’t bother to inform Emmeline that Miss Higgins would never leave Haven, or her tightknit family, or the certainty that she would find her true love at any moment.
Be careful what you wish for, Miss Higgins.
Despite their hurry, Norah stopped Emmeline at the top of the stairs. “You’re serious? You, a country vicar’s wife?”
Emmeline’s eyes widened. “Goodness no! I should never want to take care of people all the time. So dull! Can you imagine?”
“No, no not even a little,” Norah replied dryly. Emmeline had never been one to spot the irony in a situation.
Emmeline smiled like a mischievous child. “After all, he’s only a vicar because he’s poor. He won’t need to do it anymore if he marries me. I have a lot of money now.” With that, she danced ahead down the stairs.
Norah followed more slowly.
They made it to the front foyer just as Lord Matthias was carefully handing in a frail man in his seventies. An older woman, although not as old as the man, fluttered around them, fussing over the old fellow’s snow-dusted shoulders and hat.
It’s snowing. How lovely. For a moment Norah forgot and thought to tease John Barton outside for a ramble in the falling snow.
Cousin. He’ll be my cousin, if Emmeline has her way.
And Emmeline always had her way.
Then John was there, rushing forward to take the lady’s arm and give a gentle clap on the shoulder of the older fellow. He was smiling in true welcome and Norah recalled Miss Higgins’s kindly gossip of how Lady Bernadette had grown up orphaned and poor, raised by her aunt and her uncle, who was vicar in a destitute parish south of Havensbeck.
And how a young curate had come to study with the vicar and had fallen in love with his mentor’s pretty ward. Then had steadfastly waited until she grew up before setting out to court her, only to lose her to the handsome brooding widower, Lord Matthias.
High romance points indeed.
Norah endured the introductions, watched Emmeline tease a smile from the weary old fellow—was no man immune?—and stayed out of the way as the couple were divested of their winter wear.
Mostly, she watched John. His warm gaze shone with true affection for the elderly vicar and his anxious wife, until he and Lady Bernadette almost seemed to be the welcoming couple. Lord Matthias appeared to take such matters serenely enough, although Norah noticed that he tended to push Emmeline to stay at John’s side.
Oh yes, Lord Matthias would definitely prefer that handsome John Barton was happily married off, but his intent seemed equally as kindhearted as it was possessive. This made Norah like him even more.
Jasper appeared with a tray bearing a decanter of sherry and a tiny glass. Norah saw “Mrs. Vicar” protest without much conviction—and then quickly down two glasses “to fortify myself” before directing the tray to her room.
Of course, Uncle Bester, Great-Aunt Blythe and Mama were there in the welcoming party, but they all retreated to stand with Norah while the actual family welcomed the newcomers.
Simon pelted in from outside where he announced that the horses were safe and sound and the snow was coming down harder. Mrs. Vicar (Norah couldn’t think of her as Mrs. Goodrich now. She blamed Jasper entirely for this.) fussed over Simon’s snowy coat and boots in a motherly fashion until Norah realized the deep love that flowed beneath the fretful woman’s antics.
They are so happy to be together.
Norah took Mama’s hand and tucked her other arm into Uncle Bester’s. She needed to remember that she had a family too, a family that loved her in their way. She had Emmeline, who was as close as a sister and Mama who, though timid and not deeply thoughtful, was devoted to her. I may not be well-understood but I belong. Not everyone in the world could lay claim to even that.
Perhaps it was too much to ask “magical” Haven for true love as well.
Chapter 12
J
OHN FELT AS happy to see his old mentor and Mrs. Goodrich as he would have been to see his own parents. Happier actually, he admitted in the depths of his heart, for he held Isaiah and Sarah in bright affection, while his feelings for his mother and the Bishop bore the cloudier tinge of duty, obligation and failed expectations on both sides.
To be part of the joy of the moment, to be welcoming people who were the family of his heart, left John with a glow of contentment that he had not allowed himself for far too long, so wrapped up as he’d been in his unhappiness.
His gaze was caught by the Grey family standing just a little apart but smiling at the happiness of Lady Bernadette and Simon.
Lord Bester might remind John of his father on occasion, but that was not all bad. Lady Blythe and Mrs. Grey were kindness and consideration itself. As for Miss Norah Grey, he’d thought they were friends.
At that moment, Miss Grey caught his eye and gave him a small embarrassed smile and a rueful little shrug. What a mess! Let’s hope everyone forgets!
John felt a foolish grin take over his face, so relieved was he that she wasn’t angry with him any longer.
Lady Emmeline came to stand beside him. “What a happy party we shall be this Christmas! We have so much to be thankful for!”
John turned to smiled down at her, struck anew by her perfection, as he always was. She truly did have a good and kindly nature beneath it as well. He should not be put off by the way she sometimes recalled to mind the spoiled society girls his parents had pressed upon him.
Was that why he’d originally decided so definitively upon Bernadette? Because she was the opposite of everything he’d been pressured to want?
Unfair to Bernadette if it were true—and unfair to Lady Emmeline as well. John vowed to himself to simply take the Greys and Lady Emmeline for exactly who they showed themselves to be and allow no assumptions to color his perception. After all, Miss Norah Grey loved them all and sh
e seemed to John to be a most astute judge of character.
Tucking Lady Emmeline’s hand into his elbow, John turned to smile at the Greys and particularly Norah.
But Miss Norah Grey was turning away.
THAT EVENING, JOHN could not help but notice that neither Lady Emmeline nor Miss Grey ventured down to the dining room for dinner. It was a lively party for all that. Vicar Goodrich and Lord Bester had many mutual acquaintances, hard as that was to believe, and both had a passionate interest in politics, although perhaps more opposed than united. Still, both fellows were amiable in their discourse and all in all it was an interesting debate.
Sarah Goodrich and the Grey ladies cozied up to the fire after dinner in the retiring room, while Jasper plied them with rather astonishing levels of sherry and dainty sweets from Cook. John had the impression that they were talking about him. Whenever he looked their way, they seemed to just be turning away.
Matthias and Bernadette moved through the room, seeing to everyone’s tiniest comfort. John felt a genial fondness for them both. Of course, that could have been his lordship’s rather astonishing brandy.
After many months of bread and cheese and cold roast—minus the parsnips—and seeing to his own fires, John had to admit that the finer things were, well, finer. He had embraced rebuilding the vicarage himself, but was forced to admit that it would be lovely to sit down to an excellent meal and a good glass of liquor and the company of someone who wasn’t himself or Simon Goodrich (who was even now avoiding bedtime by hiding behind Vicar Goodrich’s chair and pretending great interest in politics).
It was too bad that Lady Emmeline and Miss Grey hadn’t felt up to the evening. Lady Emmeline, Bernadette informed him, had overdone herself just a bit and had regenerated her headache. This was normal, she added, according to the physician. It might continue off and on for several weeks.
While You Were Dreaming Page 10