“Lady Holmes and I shall both honor the occasion,” the baron said, taking his snuffbox from a pocket andpreparing to take a pinch. “There is a pathway that willtake my carriage, is there not, Sinclair?”
“And will you be there, Reverend?” Mrs. Sinclair asked. “I know that the day after tomorrow is not a schoolday,and I am sure that the sick can spare you for one afternoon. ”Philip hesitated. But Christopher replied before he had achance to give an answer.
“Ellen has said that everyone must attend,” he said. “And really we have decided that we will accept norefusals.” The words were said with a smile. His intenseblue eyes were directed, inexplicably, at Rebecca.
“Indeed,” Philip said, “I was not about to refuse. You are all my parishioners, after all, even if only temporarilyfor some of you. The Lord’s work can be done as well ona festive occasion as on a serious one.”
“Miss Shaw, you will come too?” Primrose asked anxiously. “I wish to show you my new horse. Everyone else has seen him.”
“Yes,” Rebecca said, “I never could resist a picnic. Food always tastes so much more delicious out of doors.And I never could resist a horse, either, Primrose. I wouldlove to see it.” She glanced against her will at Christopher, but he was no longer looking at her. That momentarymeeting of their eyes had been purely accidental.
She had not wanted to be drawn into the social events that she had known would develop out of his return home.She had thought to plead other more pressing activitiesduring the days and tiredness during the evenings. ButPhilip had accepted this particular invitation. And she wasbetrothed to him. What could she do but accept too? Werethis evening and the afternoon of the picnic to set apattern? Had Philip been finally accepted as a member ofthe family circle although they were still only betrothed? Itwas a development that she had desired for a long time.But now surely was the wrong time for it to happen.
She was glad when this particular evening came to an end. She did not look forward to having to spend moretime in the company of Christopher Sinclair. It was hard tobelieve that this man, so very self-assured and attractiveyet so very aloof, was the same person as the boy she hadplayed with and befriended, the young man to whom shehad given her heart and all her confidences. She had felt sovery comfortable with him for many years. Now it was anordeal to meet his glance for a moment; it was an effort toavoid the embarrassment that a meeting of the eyes involved. She wished again with bitter passion that he hadkept his promise never to return.
Chapter 5
“But which do you think I should wear, Rebecca?” Harriet asked. “If I wear the yellow, I shall doubtless findthat Primrose has chosen the same color. Yet it is more becoming on me, I think, than the blue. It shows my darkhair to more advantage. Do you not agree?”
Harriet was standing in her cousin’s dressing room, her arms outstretched, a yellow muslin gown over one arm anda blue over the other. Her brow was drawn into a frown.
“I like both gowns,” Rebecca said, considering. “The yellow is more vivid, but the blue is very delicate. If Iwere you, Harriet, I should wear the one that will be themost comfortable. It is like to be a hot day and there willbe much walking and sitting on the grass.”
Harriet lowered her arms and walked over to the stool that stood in front of the dressing table. She sat down.
“My new straw bonnet is decorated with cornflowers,” she said. “I suppose I should wear the blue. It will matchhis eyes.” She sighed.
Rebecca went back to the task she had been busy with when Harriet had arrived, unannounced, without so muchas knocking at the door—as usual. She was repairing thehem of the pink and blue floral-patterned cotton dress sheplanned to wear to the picnic that afternoon. She knew thatHarriet’s rare visits to her room generally lasted quite awhile. They usually happened when the girl wanted totalk, yet found that neither her father nor Maude would do as listeners.
“Is he not gorgeously handsome, Rebecca?” she said, gazing dreamily in the direction of the window. “And somature. It is a trial to live in such a retired corner of thecountry, where one rarely sees anyone worth seeing. I amso glad he came home. Do you expect he will stay long?”“I really have no idea,” Rebecca said. “But you areright. It is pleasant for you to have more young company.Mr. Bartlett, Mr. Carver, Mr. Sinclair: goodness, Harriet,we will hardly recognize our quiet neighborhood.”
“Mr. Carver is quite insignificant,” Harriet said disdainfully. “I cannot imagine why Mr. Sinclair associates with him. I suppose it is the other way around. Mr. Carvermust feel that his own image is enhanced by his association with his friend.”
“I would not underestimate Mr. Carver if I were you,” Rebecca said hastily. “He is a well-bred and sensibleyoung man, in my opinion. People should not always bejudged by their appearance, Harriet.”
“Mr. Bartlett is charming,” the girl said, “though not exactly handsome, would you say, Rebecca? I could wishhe were taller. But, of course, it does not matter. Mr.Sinclair is here now, and I mean to have him.”
“Gracious!” Rebecca exclaimed, looking up from her task, her needle suspended in midair. “You have hardlyeven met him yet, Harriet. How can you be so sure of sucha thing?”
“Oh,” Harriet said, “it does not take more than one meeting to learn that a gentleman is the most handsomeman one has seen, Rebecca. I have always been determined to marry such a man. I want to be the envy of everyother female when I marry.”
“And nothing else matters?” Rebecca asked.
“Well, of course,” her cousin replied, “if he is also rich and wellbred, then the connection becomes quite irresistible. Mr. Sinclair is all three. I can predict that Papawill be less than eager to allow the match. The Sinclairsare not our equal in rank, you know. But Mr. Sinclair has been away from here for years. No one looking at himnow would know that his family was of such littleconsequence.”
Rebecca kept her head lowered to her work. She found it appalling that Harriet could be so unconcerned aboutcharacter or companionship or any of the other requirements that she might look for in a good marriage. Goodlooks and money were the only criteria by which shewould make her choice. In the coming days or weeks ofChristopher’s visit, she would probably remain obliviousto all the shortcomings of his character. Only after marriage, if she did achieve her aim, would she come face-to-face with the cold man who would marry for money andthen ignore his wife while he carried on with his life ofpersonal gratification.
In many ways Harriet deserved to be left alone to reap the rewards of her actions. Yet Rebecca hated to sit backand allow it to happen. She had known Harriet long enoughto realize that her selfishness and thoughtlessness weremore the result of a weak and indulgent upbringing than ofa basic defect of character. The girl was capable of warmfeelings and impulsive acts of generosity. If only she werefortunate enough to find the right husband, she might yetbe shaped into a caring and responsible woman. Or soRebecca liked to believe. Perhaps it was just an unlikelydream. But she must try if she could to discourage theflirtation that she was sure was about to develop betweenHarriet and Christopher.
Perhaps Mr. Bartlett could be persuaded to give Harriet some attention. There was even a faint chance that the girlwould respond to his advances. She appeared not to dislikehim, though his appearance admittedly showed to disadvantage when compared with Christopher’s. It would be agreat deal to ask of Maude’s brother. He might well find itirksome to be forced into showing preference for one ladywhen he appeared to enjoy socializing with a wide rangeof people. She would not say anything to him immediately. But if she felt it necessary to divert Harriet’s attention, then she would ask him. He appeared to care aboutthe welfare of his sister’s family.
Harriet had been sitting quietly for a while, staring off into space, one leg crossed over the other and swingingback and forth.
“He must be ready to take a new wife, do you not think, Rebecca?” she said. “He has been a widower formore than a year, and he must be feeling lonely. And thistime, surely, he will be eager to take a bride of his ownclass and breeding. She was most shockingly vulgar, youknow. And not at all pretty. Do you think I am pretty,Rebecca?”
“You know very well that you are,” her cousin replied, looking up and smiling at her. “And very young, too,Harriet. I would not fix my choice with too much haste if Iwere you. You know that your papa has talked of takingyou to London again for the Season next year. You willstill be only nineteen.”
“That is old!” Harriet said with some vehemence. “And I should not be a debutante. Everyone would wonder whatwas wrong with me that I had not found a husband duringmy first Season.”
