With a family and children of her own, their aunt Vera hadn’t had time for them when they were small; Aunt Hettie had remained by their side, caring for them as well as any mother could. Yet it was the former to whom they gravitated when they grew into adulthood. The three of them hardly wrote more than once a month, but it was clear from Vera’s letters that she knew far more of their goings-on than they ever told Hettie.
Scowling at herself again for good measure, Hettie straightened. Was she going to sit about bemoaning the natural changes that came with life? Affections shifted, and even Hettie could acknowledge that her connection to the children was strongest when they were young; Vera had natural graces and an exuberance that appealed to the adults they became. That was all.
She took up her quill once more, dipping it in the ink and readying it for when something brilliant emerged.
Nothing. It was as though her mind emptied whenever she sat to detail her world. It wasn’t difficult to fill her journal with her thoughts and impressions, but those private details were not the sort the two sisters shared.
The library door swung open, and Alice swept in with a hardy, “Good afternoon.”
“Thank the heavens,” whispered Hettie, pushing away from the desk to grasp onto the distraction her niece presented. “And how was your morning, sweetling?”
“Mr. Goswick and I have decided we do not suit.”
The words were spoken with such disinterest as Alice dropped into an armchair that Hettie wasn’t certain she had heard the girl correctly.
“Pardon?”
Waving a vague hand in the direction of the door, Alice sighed. “He called and asked for a private word to explain that he wishes for a loveless marriage. Though he didn’t say as much, it’s clear he’s still mourning his first wife and doesn’t wish to open his heart to another. As I have no interest in such an arrangement, we parted ways.”
Hettie rose from her seat, moving across the room to sit on the sofa across from her. “Oh, my dear—”
“Do not fret, Aunt Hettie,” replied Alice with a dismissive tone. “Had he not spoken directly on the subject, I would’ve broken with him. He is amiable in many regards, and I enjoy his company, but I do not want him as a husband or a beau. Mr. Goswick is far too interested in appearance, status, and all the rest of that societal nonsense for my taste.”
The young lady paused, her expression scrunching as she considered that. “And I do not care for how he treats his father. Mr. Baxter is a dear, and I do not think his son gives him the respect he deserves. I would much rather spend an evening with his sire than the son.”
Slanting a look at her aunt, Alice added, “In truth, I only kept accepting his invitations to allow you and Mr. Baxter time together.”
Straightening, Hettie raised her brows. “You…pardon?”
With a bright laugh, Alice shook her head. “Do not feign ignorance, Aunt Hettie. You two are as thick as thieves. I don’t want to pull you apart.”
“We are friends. Nothing more,” said Hettie whilst frowning at the implication in her niece’s tone. “There is no reason we cannot continue the acquaintance regardless of whether or not you and Mr. Goswick are courting.”
Guilt wriggled along her spine as she considered her behavior on Christmas Eve. For all that she had intended on keeping her distance from Mr. Baxter, the gentleman made it so very difficult.
“Friends?” replied Alice with an arched brow and a hint of a smirk.
Hettie chuckled, her nose wrinkling. “And what else did you think we were? I enjoy the man’s company greatly, but I have no designs on him nor he on me.”
“Perhaps you do not, but you do not see how he gazes at you when you are not looking.”
“Pardon?” Hettie blinked at that, her cheeks flushing before she knew what she was about.
Alice stifled a smile (though poorly). “You truly did not know?”
“The man is grieving the loss of his wife,” said Hettie with a furrowed brow. “I do not know what you believe you are seeing, but I assure you, it is not what you suspect. Even years after the loss, Mr. Goswick isn’t ready to love another; why do you think his father—who is such a dear, as you say—would be open to courting a lady only a few short months after his wife passed?”
Rising to her feet, Hettie moved to the library door as she called over her shoulder, “Rather than sitting about, building up castles in the sky, come assist me with the St. Stephen’s Day presents. I have paper and twine aplenty, but it will take some time to ready them for the servants, and then there are the charity baskets to deliver—”
“Didn’t Louisa speak to you about it?” asked Alice with a frown.
Hettie paused in the doorway and turned to face her niece. “About what?”
Rising to her feet, Alice brushed a hand down her skirts. “She and I finished wrapping them all this morning and plan to go together to deliver the baskets this afternoon.”
Hettie’s heart gave a sharp pang, though it was there and gone in a flash; all in all, she was quite pleased with her composure. When her eldest nephew had married some months ago, she’d known his wife would wish to step into the role of mistress of the house. After all, Nelson was managing more and more of the family interests as Victor trained him to take his rightful place as head of the family; it made perfect sense for Louisa to manage more and more of the household duties as well.
“Would you care for any assistance?” she asked as Alice moved toward the doorway.
