Alice fell silent for a long moment. “They are not perfect by any means. I certainly don’t condone their behavior toward Margaret.”
“I know.” I managed a nod. “I didn’t mean to imply that.” I swallowed hard. Why was I acting so cold? I didn’t want to, but to even look at her face was suddenly painful. I didn’t want to lose the Alice I had come to know to the woman I was so afraid she would be. I wanted to think the best of her. Ireallywanted to.
The carriage rolled on in silence until Alice spoke again. “You’re rather quiet. Did something trouble you?”
I shifted, adjusting my sleeves with more force than necessary. “No. Nothing.” I lifted my gaze with a smile.
Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t press the subject. She gazed out the window instead, watching the hedgerows as they passed. A shaft of sunlight caught the curve of her cheek, and for a moment I almost asked her directly for an explanation. But what would that reveal? My suspicion and mistrust? I would be better to wait, to see for myself whether Lady Fenton’s words were true. I could pay a visit to the modiste the next day.
“There is something I must tell you,” Alice said suddenly. “I did something rash, and I didn’t think that you would mind…but…” her voice trailed off. “It occurred to me that I should have sought your opinion first.”
I sat up straighter. “What is it?”
She bit her lower lip, eyes heavy. “I invited Charlotte—er—Miss Lyons—to Margaret’s ball. I know we agreed that only my family would attend, but I miss her, and I thought that this might be an opportunity for us to make amends.”
With the subject of the dresses on my mind, I hadn’t expected her confession to be something else entirely. I took a deep breath, struggling as I searched for a reply. Miss Lyons seemed to be the last sort of woman I would want introduced to Margaret. All it took was one look at Miss Lyons to know that she judged others harshly. Perhaps I was being presumptuous, but I had found her character lacking instantly upon meeting her.
“Has she already accepted the invitation?” I asked.
“Yes.” Alice wrung her hands together. “I was delighted. We didn’t part ways as friends, but it is my hope that we can be reconciled soon.”
Frustration lingered in my chest. “The ball is in two days. Why didn’t you tell me until now?”
“I thought you would disapprove. I know she didn’t make an agreeable impression on you, but I’m confident that she will treat Margaret with respect. I will make sure of it.” Her soft voice traced over me, begging me to relax. It didn’t work. My agitation only grew as the carriage stopped outside Southcliff Manor.
I wanted Alice to see her family and friends, but the last time she and Miss Lyons had been together, Alice had behaved much differently. Which version of her was real? Had I created a perfect one in my head?
My heart stung, but I buried my emotions. I felt Alice’s gaze, but at the moment, I couldn’t look at her face. All it would take would be one cruel whisper or laugh from Miss Lyons, and the ball could be ruined for Margaret. Did Alice not realize that? Her view of her friend had become distorted, masked by a few good moments they must have shared.
Had the same thing happened to me, but toward my wife?
I fought hard against the doubt rising in my heart, but I was drowning in it. Perhaps Alice had bought all of those gowns in order to gloat to her competitor about all the fine things she now possessed. Perhaps she had invited Charlotte only to revel in her success at securing me.
I stopped the spiral of my thoughts. Speculating would do more harm than good. Whether I liked it or not, Charlotte would be attending the ball. It would be wise not to reflect too deeply on the motivation behind it.
If only I knew how to be that wise.
Chapter Twenty-Four
ALICE
Isat on a chair beside Margaret, my gaze following the long trail of shells on the floor. I hadn’t seen Jonathan all day. After church the day before, he had seemed to be avoiding me again. I kept busy with preparations for the ball, meeting frequently with the cook and Mrs. Linton, but I hadn’t crossed paths with my husband even once that day.
Perhaps because his painting was finished, he didn’t see a need to spend as much time with me anymore.
Or perhaps he had grown weary of my company. The thought caused a deep ache to spread in my heart. I tried to draw a breath, but even the air itself seemed heavier than usual. The weather wasn’t easing my mood either. Light rain sprinkled on the windows, the grey sky making the south wing dim.
Had I said something to upset Jonathan while we were at church? The only plausible explanation for his distance was that he was angry over my invitation to Charlotte. I hadn’t expected her to accept it. I hadn’t been withholding the information from Jonathan willfully.
I had hoped he would understand.
Amid my sulking, Margaret crept up beside me, a book in hand. She extended it toward me without a word, a curious look in her eyes. I studied her face. I had noticed her resemblance to Jonathan from the first moment I met her. Their eyes both shared the same dark shade of brown, though her scowl was never quite as intense as his.
“What’s this?” I asked, forcing a cheerful tone to my voice.
Margaret set the book in my hands. I recognized the cover immediately. It was the one that Jonathan had purchased in Brighton. “Did your brother give this to you?”
She gave a quick nod, a smile flashing on her lips before disappearing again. She looked at me expectantly, though she never held my gaze for long.
