Chapter 24
The clink of cutlery and the low hum of conversation pressed in around Phoebe, familiar and insistent. She nodded when expected, smiled when the pause demanded it, and guided the discussion with practiced ease. All the outward signs of a capable hostess were there. Attentive. Present.
Thank the heavens so many of these actions were mere habits, easy to do without prompting or thought, for Phoebe’s mind slipped back, again and again, to their quiet bedchamber. To Samuel’s hands at her neck. To the strange weight of a moment, so unremarkable at first glance yet unlike any that had come before.
A prickle ran along her skin, raising gooseflesh just as it had when he fastened the necklace there, and Phoebe caught herself mid-thought, forcing her attention firmly back to the table. Someone was speaking, and she ought to be listening. Thankfully, the others laughed, and it was easy to follow their lead.
Loosening her grip on her glass, Phoebe schooled her expression. Yet still, the warmth lingered beneath that composed veneer. Why had she kissed him? She hadn’t intended to do so, but words of gratitude had felt too weak. Insipid.Insufficient. That touch had felt proper in a way her words could not.
Though it was useless to pretend that gratitude alone had been her motivation: appreciation had inspired the idea, but desire had driven her to act.
Regardless, she needn’t linger on the moment like some silly young girl fawning over her beau. Husbands and wives kissed. It was hardly remarkable. One could not share a household, a bed, a life, without occasionally doing so—no matter how practical their arrangement.
Phoebe’s hand drifted to her pendant of its own accord, and she felt the familiar bumps of the pearls beneath her fingertips. Perhaps it was strange to care so much about a meaningless bit of gold, but so much of her had been stripped away, and here was one small piece of the person she had been.
Samuel had noticed how much it mattered to her. Had purchased it for her. Of course, he had.
Drawing in a breath, Phoebe forced her attention back to the table before her. Fully. No amount of stewing in her thoughts would provide a greater understanding of this topsy-turvy world.
The dining room was dressed to its best advantage. Candles stood in polished brass holders along the center of the table, their flames steady, casting a warm, even glow across the neatly arranged place settings. The room was a good deal smaller than Dunsby Hall’s, where she had learned the proper way to arrange a table, but Mama’s efforts hadn’t been wasted, and Phoebe had done her utmost to adapt to a simpler display. And she was quite pleased with the result.
Though she didn’t count the Kirks or Norcrofts as friends at present, the Coulters were doing their utmost to infuse the gathering with merriment (though the steward was doing hisbest to drown himself beneath a steady stream of wine), and the party unfolded with growing familiarity.
And when it came time for the ladies to withdraw, Phoebe rose and led them to the front room, which was to play the dual role of parlor and drawing room tonight, but before she and the others settled in, Mrs. Coulter swept in beside her, taking her arm.
“Is something troubling you?” she whispered, the question not carrying to the other pair, who were deep in conversation as the group settled into the new room. Phoebe’s pulse stuttered, but the lady hurried to add, “The others did not notice, but I could tell you and your husband were a touch distracted all dinner long.”
Phoebe’s hand rose to her necklace again, and the action drew Mrs. Coulter’s attention.
“That is a pretty piece,” she said in a speculative tone that did nothing to calm Phoebe’s nerves. For a long moment, the pair stood there while Mrs. Coulter studied her like a specimen in a display—a gleam of pleasure in her gaze. Phoebe blushed, and the lady’s smile turned triumphant before she allowed the subject to drop.
“And how are you settling into Kingsmere, Mrs. Norcroft?” asked Mrs. Coulter, settling in beside the pair. “Your husband claimed all is well, but we all know that such changes impact the women far more than the men.”
“It has been a tad trying at times, but the village is so lovely. I am certain we will be quite happy here,” said Mrs. Norcroft, though Phoebe sensed a touch of strain beneath the compliment.
Turning to her hostess, the lady added, “I have heard such incredible reports of your efforts in Kingsmere, Mrs. Godwin. I am quite in awe. I am still finding my way in my new home, and we arrived before you.”
“But you relocated your entire household and did so with children underfoot,” said Phoebe with a shake of her head. “I settled into an already established home, alone. I have little to fill my days, and I am ashamed that it took me so long to engage with my new parish.”
“I heard you are helping out at one of the dame schools,” said Mrs. Coulter, her brows raised as though expecting Phoebe to refute it.
“How wonderful,” said Mrs. Norcroft, her eyes darting between the pair. “I imagine that must be quite rewarding.”
“Far more than I ever expected, though I fear I am no teacher,” she replied with a wince. “But should you wish to join us, I know Mrs. Broad is always eager for more assistance. Of any sort. Her health is such that it is difficult for her to maintain class in the winter months.”
Glancing at Mrs. Kirk, Phoebe added, “In fact, I was intending to pay a call and see if you would be interested in joining us, as you are so charitably minded. We focus so much on immediate needs, but shouldn’t we also look to more lasting solutions? By improving their education, we can give them the skills and knowledge to find better employment, which will increase their income and allow them to provide for themselves.”
“That does sound… rewarding,” said Mrs. Kirk, her smile never faltering though it strained at the edges. “However, I am quite occupied with my work in the Royal Humane Society.”
“Could you not lend a little of your time to this worthy cause?” asked Phoebe, fighting back the frown.
But Mrs. Kirk waved it away with a few excuses about the importance of her charity and hurried to add, “I am certain Mrs. Jameson would be eager to aid you—”
The parlor door opened, drawing their attention away from the conversation as the gentlemen entered in a loose cluster.Rising to their feet, the ladies crossed to their husbands, and Phoebe’s gaze seized upon Samuel’s expression.
Though his clerical smile was firmly affixed, there was something beneath his professional façade that had her drawing closer, and it was only when she stood beside him that the tightness revealed itself. The set of his mouth was too precise, the line of his jaw held as though he were bracing against something unseen, and Phoebe’s gaze met his, asking for an explanation—both for his foul mood and the quick appearance of the menfolk.
His breath left him in a measured release, and Samuel whispered, “I do not trust myself in Mr. Norcroft’s company for another moment.”
