“The gunsmith? Yes, Sir.” Jones snapped the reins. “Right away.”
CHAPTER 20
Benedict had left over an hour ago and Alice was in her room, a lump of cloth on her lap as she stitched another petticoat in place. His rejection had not hit her hard as the same reasons he had told her were the same ones she had considered herself.
Her aunt would not like the broken courtship, but she did not need to worry; she knew another courtship would come about fairly quickly in the wake of her failed one.
“So, Penelope, then?” she’d asked.
The blades of his cheeks had tinged red. “Is it that obvious?”
“To others, maybe not, but to myself, I see how you look at her and I cannot be any happier. She will be honored to have a man like you give her the attention she deserves,” Alice had told him. “If it means anything to you, you have my blessing.”
Benedict had risen immediately. “It means the world! But I must ask one thing—I have no desire to draw unnecessary attention to yourself or Miss Penelope with the... abrupt deviations in my courting habits. If she is willing to accept, I shall be honored to formally ask for her hand a month from now.”
“Ouch!” she jumped as the needlepoint pricked her forefinger. “That is what I get for not using a thimble.”
She stared at the single drop of blood blooming on her finger and fought the sense that she was so untethered, even though she had expected Benedict’s rejection.
Swiping away the droplet, she slipped the thimble on and stared at the delicate daisies she’d embroidered on the skirting.
“Penelope is going to be all right,” she assured herself. “If anything, this might be even better than Rutledge.”
But what about myself? Do I just swan off into spinsterhood with grace… Edward is the only one I want, but he is not willing to budge on his decision to marry.
At least she would have the memories of their brief shared time together to hold onto for a lifetime.
“Alice?” Penelope came into the room. “Do you have a moment?”
“Always,” she glanced up. “Is it what you wanted to talk of from earlier?”
Nodding, Penelope sat and nervously twisted her fingers in her lap. “I wanted to ask you if you could somehow arrange a trip back to our old hometown? I—I feel a trip to mother and father’s graves might help me center my thoughts.”
Tilting her head to the left, Alice considered it. It would also do to check in with their old cottage, the rents from that house were what minded her and Penelope each month.
“I don’t know,” she said, scrunching her nose. “It is a long trip and I do not think Aunt or Uncle will relieve their carriage for that long. Are you—how are you feeling?”
“Not much different from the other days, I suppose,” Penelope said with a shrug. “I have been trying to amuse myself, rather,convincemyself that everything is not catastrophic, but it still hasn’t set in yet.”
Alice bit her lip, unsure of when to tell her sister of what—or ratherwho—was to come. “How about we go book shopping tomorrow instead? I think a bit of fresh air will do us both the world of good.”
Frowning, Penelope asked, “What do you mean?”
Tracing the last design she’d sewn, Alice admitted, “Lord Brampton broke the courtship. And before you ask, no, it wasnot because of anything I did or he did. The connection was… not the one we both thought it would end up being. It was a mutual decision, Elly.”
Her sister’s face fell, “I am so sorry.” She reached out and touched Alice’s hand. “You seemed so good together.”
“It is all for the best,” she looked down at her sewing. “Something tells me something better is coming down the line, however.”
“Well,” Penelope rested her head on Alice’s shoulder, “You always do know what is best.”
If only that were true.
“Alice, Penelope,” Aunt Agatha stuck her head around the door, “It is time for dinner. Will you please help Anna set the tables? Richard is coming home tonight as well, so make a place for him too.”
Sharing an exasperated look with Penelope, Alice set her sewing aside. “Yes, Aunt. We’re coming, aunt.”
Leaving her room, they entered the dining room, and while Penelope smoothed out the tablecloth, Alice studiously avoided the Sèvres porcelain and took out the bone china tableware. Sheset the table while trying to think about the trip to the Temple of the Muses tomorrow.
