Mother wrinkled her nose. “She is a bit too brusque at times, but she has a good heart—forever playing for us and keeping me company, and she is endlessly kind to the girls. It’s been such a short time since Miss Leigh first graced our home, yet it feels as though she’s a long-standing fixture in our family.”
Of their own accord, his eyes drifted to his sisters’ positions in the room. Though Irene was nowhere to be seen, David was certain Mr. Gould was keeping a close eye on her. However, Flora was quite happily situated with the gentleman Mrs. Tate had introduced her to, whilst Clarissa was ensconced in Mrs. Tate’s circle.
Yes, Miss Leigh was kind to his sisters. And to his mother.
“What are you going to do about your Miss Leigh?” prodded Mother.
“She is not mine. We are friends.”
Mother gave a low hum that sounded more like a scoff, and David glanced at her to find her watching him with narrowed eyes.
“Are you? Or are you simply overlooking a good match because you’re not swept away in some flight of fancy?” she asked. “Love is not only racing hearts and wild attraction, David.”
“That doesn’t mean it ought to be ignored—”
“Oh, my dear son,” she said with a sigh. Despite the exasperation in her tone, David couldn’t help but feel warm at the endearment. The Leighs employed it all too often in meaningless manners, but there was nothing feigned about his mother’s affection in that word. And it helped to ease the sting of what she said next.
“Memories are funny things, twisting and distorting the past, and I fear yours is leading you down the wrong path. Is that lady everything you imagine her to be, or have you inflated that sweet moment into something grander than it was?”
With brows pulled together, his mother moved to step in front of him, raising her hand to pat his cheek. “Do not allow a fantasy to distract you from the beautiful possibility before you, and ask yourself if you had to choose, which lady would you pick?”
Reaching over, Mother kissed him on his other cheek before leaving him to his thoughts—though David didn’t know what he ought to think at such a moment. They said by the mouth of two or three witnesses the truth was established (or something to that effect), and David couldn’t easily brush aside his mother’s words when they aligned with what Benjamin had said not long ago.
He glanced over at the other guests all gathered together. The game was in full swing, with laughter and merriment aplenty, and his seat by Miss Sheridan remained unoccupied. It would be easy enough to return to his place and take up the hunt again.
But David’s gaze drifted towards Miss Leigh, standing by herself.
***
Jealousy was an ugly sentiment. Rather than celebrating the blessings in another’s life, it festered in selfishness and resentment. A miserable feeling for a miserable person who desired one’s own happiness above anyone else’s. There was nothing wrong with regrets or longing, but one should be able to wish for something whilst celebrating when another achieved it.
Life was full of disappointments, and no good came from focusing on the things one lacked and others possessed—a philosophy Katherine tried to hold firm to, though it was difficult at times.
Katherine Leigh was not jealous of Pamela. On her friend’s wedding day, she had celebrated wholeheartedly beside the new Mrs. Kitts, and though spinsterhood loomed before her, Katherine had refused to allow it to taint a beautiful day.
Of course, she hadn’t truly realized just how much their friendship would alter.
Pamela may not have been a darling of society, but she’d had gentlemen admirers aplenty, and thus, Katherine had thought she knew what it was like to share her friend’s attention. However, there was a vast difference between a courting lady and a married one—especially with each additional child requiring more of their mother’s attention. And Pamela was an attentive mother. As she should be.
Mrs. Kitts’ life was with her family, and Katherine did not resent that felicity, but neither could she stop herself from feeling all the more alone at functions like this.
Spinsterhood was not such a terrible thing. It was not her desired state, but many people did not have the lives they wished for, and Katherine had always thought it far better to be a spinster (even an unhappy one) than an unhappily married woman.
Granted, that would be far less true if she didn’t have her escape plan at the ready. Katherine Leigh was not at the mercy of her parents or siblings; spinsterhood was not something to be feared. But for all that she understood and embraced it, dissatisfaction struck at the oddest of times, reminding her just how lonely such a life could be.
Laughter burst from the revelers, and she watched as the circle of people in the center of the room erupted into chaos, doing who knew what. Humor was such a variable thing, and Katherine rarely understood the amusement gained from parlor games like Buffy Guffy. But then, most of the guests imbibed freely their hosts’ wine and spirits, making even the most ludicrous things uproarious.
A hand appeared before her gaze, holding up a glass of fresh cider. Her eyes traveled the length of the arm to find Mr. Archer standing beside her.
“I thought you might be parched,” he said, nudging the glass towards her.
Katherine’s brows rose. “I am, thank you.”
Taking a deep drink, she enjoyed the sweetness of the apples mixed with the bite of cinnamon, nutmeg, and allspice. And the faintest kiss of orange peel. Although it was room temperature, the cider sent a wave of heat through her—though that had more to do with the gentleman who had given it to her.
Katherine straightened and drew in a breath, forcing that ridiculous sentiment aside. Mr. Archer had been attentive. He was a gentleman, so that was of little surprise. Even if he was the only one who ever seemed to pay her any heed.
“I ought to say thank you,” said Mr. Archer.
