The girls listened with rapt attention as the impoverished heroine was taken from the forest to marry the mighty marquis and live in luxury well beyond the audience’s wildest imaginations. A happy life. A perfect one.
Until the marquis decided to test Griselda’s loyalty. One by one, he stripped away all that he had given, each trial determined to show the depth of her devotion. Her wealth. Her title. Her marriage. Even her children. Then abandoned in the forest once more, she was left with nothing and no one. Yet still she remained true to her love.
A few brows furrowed. One girl’s stitches faltered, the needle lingering too long before she forced it onward again. And Phoebe, too, grew more and more anxious to see how the story would end. After so much suffering, there must be an equal reward. Surely there was.
And just as all seemed lost, the marquis revealed the test for what it was, restoring everything to Griselda once more.
“And they lived happily ever after,” concluded Mrs. Broad.
“Didn’t the marquis get his comeuppance?” asked little Sarah, her sewing forgotten in her lap. “After everything he did to Griselda?”
Katie scoffed. “My ma would ring a peal over his head just like she does when Pa stumbles home drunk.”
Mrs. Broad paused, her expression growing forcefully blank as one does when faced with a precocious observation. “I do not know that Griselda’s mother taught her to do that, and unfortunately, that does not always solve the problem.”
With a knowing nod and grave tone, Katie added, “Pa still slips away to the pub every night.”
Drawing in a steadying breath, Mrs. Broad considered that. “I suppose it is a cautionary tale and a warning to be careful who you give your heart to, girls.”
“I don’t know how that Griselda could ever love him,” murmured Martha, her eyes on her work.
Pausing, Mrs. Broad added with a pensive tone, “I do think it is meant to be a hopeful story. We all find ourselves at the mercy of others’ actions and choices, and I believe the women who first told this story and all those who continue to share it do so because of that ‘happily ever after.’ It is the hope of countless generations that look to the future, praying that one day our hardships will pass and usher in a great reward.”
Though many of the girls dismissed the story with puzzled frowns, Phoebe felt those words slip into her heart, burrowing deep as she considered that tragic tale and her own marriage. Not that Samuel or her situation bore any resemblance to that of Griselda and the marquis, but what if she were doing what so many had done before? Learning to lower expectations whilst making the best of the situation?
Disgust had faded to respect, and now, her heart stirred at the thought of Samuel. At his touch. His steadiness. His humor. Each day brought a sense that her life was no longer merely tolerable but pleasing. Could this tenderness be convenience dressed in finer clothes? She had always believed herself clear-eyed, resistant to comforting falsehoods, yet she knew how persuasive hope could be.
Happily ever after.What did that truly mean? And was it possible?
Each kindness, each shared laugh, each quiet moment of understanding rose to her thoughts, forcing the doubt back into the dark depths from which it had sprung. Yet Phoebe’s worries would not yield entirely, arming itself with all the many arguments that had punctuated their time together.
Was she mistaking comfort for connection? Gratitude for love? How many times had she clung to Mama’s complaints and Mr. Winwood’s poor behavior and praised Samuel for rescuing her from that unhappiness? Was that Griselda simply clinging to the promise of a happily ever after?
Faith, as she considered the timeline of this shift, it seemed all the more impossible that her feelings had altered from barely concealed contempt to a budding affection. For goodness’ sake, it hadn’t even been a month since they’d formed anything resembling a friendship, and now, she was flirting with the idea of love?
Phoebe bent over one of the students, pretending to inspect the girl’s stitches, and the class carried on with their work, forgetting about Griselda and the marquis, though they lingered in Phoebe’s thoughts, unwilling to leave her be.
Chapter 29
And as she’d done with increasing regularity since Frederick announced the family’s insolvency, Phoebe drew in a steadying breath before crouching beside one of the girls, who was working away at her darning.
“Beautiful, Anna. Those stitches are perfect.”
But the child looked up at her with a furrowed brow. “I ain’t Anna.”
Phoebe straightened. “I do apologize. I fear I am not always good at recalling names.”
“I’m Bitsy Hollis,” she said.
“Bitsy,” Phoebe repeated, the name settling belatedly into place. “That is a lovely name. And where do you live?”
The girl paused mid-stitch and looked up at her with mounting confusion. “On your land, of course, Mrs. Godwin.”
Straightening, Phoebe stared at the girl. Though she’d never given it much thought (and he’d never mentioned land), she seemed to recall there’d been a parcel in Haverford set aside for the clergy as part of their living. It must be commonplace. Or even an expectation. As Phoebe had never dealt with such matters before, she couldn’t say for certain, but with the girl claiming tenancy on the Godwins’ lands, there must be something of the kind here in Kingsmere.
“I see,” replied Phoebe. “And how far out is it?”
“Not far,” Bitsy replied, satisfied now that the matter had been cleared up. “Past The Giant’s Rest. Pa says it’s good land, even if the soil’s stubborn at times.”
