“You are nothing compared to her. Nothing!” Mrs. Baxter stared her down, holding onto her composure by the barest of threads. “My mother-in-law was one of the greatest ladies I have ever known, and you can never replace her. You’ve only bewitched a hapless man, who is too lonely to recognize your scheming for what it is. You are nothing,MissStillwell.”
Whether or not the lady intended it, that speech said more about the speaker than it did the listener, and Hettie’s heart broke for Mrs. Baxter’s loss.
“I—” began Hettie, but when the eldest Baxter son appeared at his wife’s elbow with a furrowed brow, glancing between them, she braced herself for what was to come.
“What is the matter?” asked Mr. Matthias Baxter.
“This harlot has been parading about with Father—” But his wife’s words were cut short when yet another of the family arrived in much the same manner.
“Why are you making a scene?” asked Mr. Goswick, glancing between his siblings.
“Why must you say it like that, Stanley?” asked his brother with narrowed eyes.
“Half the ballroom is staring at us,” whispered Mr. Goswick, giving the others a warning look, though Hettie thought his assessment a bit generous. It was only a third of the ballroom; her cheeks pinked as she ignored all the attention pointed in their direction. “Had I known your wife would cause a ruckus—”
“Camilla was not causing a ruckus!” he hissed.
Hettie’s gaze darted between the trio, who began bickering one with another, and though they attempted to moderate their tones, anyone with eyes could see the conflict well enough, even if they only caught one word in three. Some part of her longed to sneak away, but Hettie refused to take the coward’s way out. Though she was not responsible for all the tension between the brothers, it was her inelegant stumbling into the family that was igniting it from polite skirmishes to open war.
“Boys!” Their father’s voice cut through the tussle, but neither man looked the slightest bit chagrined or cowed by the intrusion. “What is the meaning of this?”
Chapter 17
Before either of Mr. Baxter’s sons could say a thing, Mrs. Baxter drew up before her father-in-law, her nose raised in disdain as she pointed a finger toward Hettie.
“Is it true? Are you courtingthat woman?”
Both her husband and Mr. Goswick jerked their gazes toward their father, their wide eyes darting between him and his sweetheart.
“You cannot be serious, Camilla,” said Matthias, his lip curling in disdain as his gaze grazed over Hettie.
“I told you there were rumors, and they’ve been swanning about together all evening while he pretends to mourn our mother’s loss.”
Mr. Baxter drew in a deep breath, lowering his tone as he addressed his children. “Let us speak of this later. Now is not the time or place for this discussion.”
His eldest son breathed out an oath, though he quickly covered his mouth. Mr. Goswick managed to edit his language better, though the meaning rife in his polite exclamation was no less hurtful. Mrs. Baxter merely stared at her father-in-law as though he’d rolled about in muck.
Stepping closer to Hettie, Mr. Baxter held out his arm, and she slid her own through, clinging to it like a lifeline in a storm-tossed ocean. He placed his hand atop hers with an air that no one could misconstrue as merely friendly, and he turned them away, leading them back into the crowd. Whether or not they wished to follow their father’s advice, the trio had sense enough to allow the couple to escape.
Though they all knew that was not the end of the discussion.
“I apologize,” she whispered, shaking her head.
“For what?” Mr. Baxter asked with a frown. “You did nothing wrong.”
Hettie nodded, though her chest tightened with the tell-tale signs that something was not right. Turning her gaze to him, she tried to think what to say, but it felt as though an invisible barrier was placed between them, growing stronger as a question rose to her thoughts, taunting her.
What if their courtship irrevocably damaged his relationship with his children?
Throat tightening, Hettie tried to bat it away, but it lingered in the back of her thoughts as the orchestra struck up a familiar tune that had become synonymous with the shifting of the year. For all that the revelers had been making themselves quite merry at their hosts’ expense, the crowd stilled, and when the first verse began, the guests all joined in with the familiar words of “Auld Lang Syne.”
Hettie struggled with the words, her lips moving along with everyone, though no sound emerged, for the song only served to accentuate the trouble brewing for the courting pair. Though she’d always enjoyed the melancholy call to remembrance, it felt like salt rubbed into her wound. And the stiffness of her beau at her side testified that the meaning was not lost on Mr. Baxter.
Should we forget the people of the past?
The doors of the ballroom were thrown open, symbolically beckoning in the new year and releasing the old whilst giving the guests a subtle nudge toward the exit, and the crowd slowly dispersed as the strains of the music followed them out, the tune haunting Hettie’s thoughts.
“We will sort this out,” said Mr. Baxter, and Hettie drew in a deep breath, forcing herself to smile as she nodded at him.
