Before he could contemplate the matter further though, Gwendolyn squared her shoulders, set aside the book, placed another kiss on Priscilla’s head, and did the same to Samuel as he settled in his bed.
“It’s well past time for the two of you to go to sleep,” she said. “And it’s time for me to return to my cousin’s cottage.”
“You won’t come by in the morning before you leave Newport?” Ethel asked.
Gwendolyn’s lip trembled for the briefest of seconds, quite like Priscilla’s had done only moments before, but then she lifted her chin and shook her head. “I think it’ll be best foreveryone if I simply sail away. But again, I’ll visit you all someday, although probably not in Newport, which seems a bit hostile toward me these days.” She nodded to Ethel. “Would it be too much to ask you to tell Walter I said good-bye?”
Ethel began blinking rather rapidly. “You don’t want to tell him yourself?”
“It’s been an exhausting, emotional day, and I don’t believe I’m up for another discussion Walter might broach regarding an alliance. I don’t belong in society, and your family is firmly entrenched in it. That means it’s time for me to go, but I’d be ever so grateful if you would agree to say good-bye to him for me.”
Ethel’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears as she inclined her head, stepped forward, and gave Gwendolyn a kiss on the cheek. As Gwendolyn went to kiss Matilda, Walter turned and strode into the adjacent room, finding Oscar standing right inside the door, obviously eavesdropping. Putting a finger to his lips, Walter waited until he heard Gwendolyn hurrying down the staircase before he released a sigh.
“Well, that’s that, then,” he said quietly.
“No, it’s not,” Oscar argued, moving directly beside Walter. “Miss Brinley seemed distressed about leaving us and didn’t want to say good-bye to you in person. That’s telling.”
“How do you know it’s telling? You’re nine.”
“And old for my years, so you’ll simply need to believe me.”
“Even if I believe you, it doesn’t change the fact Gwendolyn’s determined to leave us.”
“True, but it can change what you do about her leaving.” Oscar shoved up the sleeves of his shirt. “All that’s left to do now is come up with a plan, and luckily for you, your children are very good with plans.”
Forty-One
“Opal Brinley has sent me yet another letter.”
Gwendolyn pushed herself up from the hay bale she’d been lounging on, contemplating her life for the past hour, and settled her attention on her mother, Finella Brinley, who stood in the doorway looking more than amused as she fanned the letter she was holding back and forth in front of her face.
“How many does that make?”
“Twelve,” Finella said, walking across the barn and taking a seat beside Gwendolyn. “In this latest letter, she demands I send her the life history of all of my children, complete with a listing of their accomplishments, and then extends all of us an invitation to join her in Boston for Thanksgiving dinner.”
Gwendolyn wrinkled her nose. “She wants us to join her for Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Apparently.” Finella grinned. “I have no idea what you said to a woman who has been a thorn in my side since I married your father, but good heavens, she does seem determined to turn over a new leaf. I will, of course, compose another long letter in reply, extolling all my children’s many accomplishments. Opal does, surprisingly enough, seem to enjoy my responses toher notes, making mention of little tidbits, which suggests she reads them thoroughly.” Finella tilted her head. “But again, I’m curious what you said to encourage her to turn over a new leaf.”
“I may have told her something to the effect that she was a bitter and, perhaps, miserable woman, those conditions brought about by her ridiculous decision to put her idiotic social responsibilities before her son.”
“I don’t imagine Opal enjoyed hearing that.”
Gwendolyn smiled. “Someone needed to tell her, and if what I said has her rethinking her priorities, then I don’t regret speaking my mind. What does Father think about her sending letters?”
“He’s relieved, as well as delighted. She is his mother, after all, and while he’s been angry with her for years, I know he’s missed her.” Finella tucked a stray strand of hair that was a shade lighter than Gwendolyn’s behind her ear. “I’m sure Thanksgiving will be interesting, but we have more pressing matters to concern ourselves with—such as why you’re hiding out in the barn.”
“I’m not hiding, merely rethinking my purpose in life.”
“Ah, of course you are.” Finella gave Gwendolyn’s hand a pat. “Have you come to any conclusions?”
“I’ve been thinking about something Catriona said. And annoying as this is for me to admit, she may be exactly right with her assessment of me.”
“Catriona can be unusually astute when she sets her self-centeredness aside. What did she tell you?”
“She believes I’m not an unconventional lady at all, but that I’m actually meant to pursue a more traditional role, complete with a husband and children.”
Finella gave Gwendolyn’s hand a squeeze. “I could have told you that years ago, darling.”
