Mrs. Kirk’s nose wrinkled. “Heavens, no, but you know what it is like. When the greatest of us all issues a snub, others follow suit.”
“Yet you do not.” For all the terrible news she had received, that brought a smile to Phoebe’s lips.
“Come now, you are an intelligent young lady,” said Mrs. Kirk, taking the saucer and cup Phoebe offered her. “Mrs. Whitcombe prizes position and tradition, but she is not overtly cruel or rude. It isn’t as though she will take note of my presence here and unleash some ungodly punishment upon my head. I simply do not care if I am in her good graces, but far too many place stock in being liked by their betters.”
Phoebe set her teacup down on the side table with a heavy clink and a huff. “I knew I would like you when we first met. I cannot comprehend what hold Mrs. Whitcombe has over Kingsmere. She has money, to be certain, but even our baronet in Haverford does not hold such sway over the village. It is baffling.”
Giving a vague wave of the hand as she took a bite of a madeleine, Mrs. Kirk chuckled. “That, my dear, is the power of influence.”
That wasn’t much of an answer, for the Vosses had boasted as much position and prestige as one could find in their small corner of Lincolnshire, yet Phoebe couldn’t think of a single matter in which Mama had exerted so much control over the parish.
Hiding her confusion behind a sip of tea, Phoebe quickly moved to change the subject. “You spoke of reading as your second great love. May I ask what is your first?”
Shifting to the edge of her seat, Mrs. Kirk abandoned her refreshments and clasped her hands in her lap with a grin. “Have you heard of The Royal Humane Society?”
Chapter 13
“When I suggested you marry, I didn’t think you would make such a mess of it,” said Mrs. Whitcombe, gazing up at Samuel from her armchair like the throne it was. “It was meant to be a boon to you and our community.”
It wasn’t difficult to imagine how Mrs. Godwin would scowl and scoff at the lady’s choice of words, for the edict had not been couched as a “suggestion” by even the broadest of definitions. The moment was etched into his memory, and it bore an odd familiarity to this moment: Samuel Godwin summoned to her court to stand quietly as she leveled her judgments upon him.
“Good heavens, man, what were you thinking with such a choice?” asked Mrs. Whitcombe. “Mrs. Godwin is entirely unsuited to this life.”
Just as she was unsuited for the life that had stood before her, but that was neither here nor there. Not in Mrs. Whitcombe’s opinion, at any rate.
Studying the lady’s tone and expression, Samuel considered the seriousness of the situation and what was required. A bit of teasing? Though it might cajole her into a better mood, he feared the answer was the self-same one that threaded through so much of his life. Drawing his resolve close, he tried to ignorethe other ladies gathered nearby; Langley Court’s parlor was palatial, but not large enough for this conversation to remain private, and there was nothing to be done about it.
“I wasn’t overjoyed when you suggested I marry,” said Samuel. “However, when I considered the possibility, I realized that no man’s life is complete without a woman at his side, and that mine would be all the poorer if I continued in my ways. Men are all thumbs—so to speak—without a lady to guide them, and only a fool would ignore your sage advice, madam.”
For the briefest of moments, Samuel wondered if the compliment was too overt, but Mrs. Whitcombe’s eyes sparked, a faint smile softening her lips.
“Perhaps my choice was hasty,” he continued. “But I did not wish to neglect my duties to you and the parish. Lady Cecilia spoke so highly of Mrs. Godwin, and I refused to question her invaluable opinion, which pointed my attention in that direction. And you, yourself, suggested I find a bride of good breeding—”
“A family whose name is blackened by scandal is hardly a good field to harvest.”
How to proceed? Wracking his brain, Samuel considered how to rouse Mrs. Whitcombe’s sympathies without prodding at old wounds.
“And I agree wholeheartedly,” he said with a bow of his head, “but even the best of families have the occasional burden that falls upon the younger generation to bear. Children are at the mercy of their parents’ choices, after all, and she had no say over her father’s poor decisions. However, Mrs. Godwin had much to recommend herself, despite that unfortunate detail.”
Stiffening, Mrs. Whitcombe turned her gaze to the window and considered the world beyond, hopefully considering her own marriage of necessity in which the impoverished youngest son of a viscount had found it necessary to sell off his daughterin matrimony to a self-made man, whose family tree was as common as common could be.
“Perhaps my heart is too tender for such things,” he continued. “But I could not ignore a lady in need of rescue.”
Mrs. Whitcombe gave a slow nod. “Your concern does you credit, Mr. Godwin, and I applaud you for your sensibilities. However, no good comes from allowing them to run rampant. The manner in which Mrs. Godwin speaks is troubling. If not for your reassurances, I would be certain she is a radical, come to upend our way of life.”
Hiding a laugh, Samuel shook his head. His wife may be outspoken, but she didn’t have a revolutionary bone in her body. If anything, the troubles that had arisen between her and Mrs. Whitcombe sprang from how deeply-rooted Mrs. Godwin was in the social hierarchies, not because she wished to tear them down.
“Not at all, madam. My wife simply forgot herself. With her father’s passing and the ensuing troubles, the lady has suffered greatly of late. Being so newly married—”
“It has only been a few short years since the streets of Paris ran red with the blood of the innocents,” said Mrs. Whitcombe, her eyes widening and her voice lowering. “No doubt, you were too young to comprehend the madness that swallowed France, but I lost family to the guillotine and knew many others who escaped only by abandoning their homes and the land they loved.”
“Such a pity,” said Mrs. Painter with furrowed brows, proving that their conversation was not private.
“Positively monstrous,” added Mrs. Lynch. “Nasty business, that.”
Mrs. Whitcombe straightened, her voice rising, “And what has it given them? Chaos, bloodshed, and corruption! For all that rebels fight ‘for the people,’ those who rise to power areoften the quickest to turn on their own. They care only about their own interest, which you can see plain as day withthat mansnatching up power amidst all that upheaval.”
Scoffing, she wrinkled her nose. “France is no more a republic now than it was under King Louis, andthat manwill not content himself until he has the whole country under his boot. And now, he threatens our shores—”
