Page 1 of Discovering Grace

Chapter 1

May of 1814

Somewhere in the house a door slammed. Grace winced but otherwise did not react to the evidence of her twin sister’s displeasure. She kept her hands busy embroidering a blue silk shawl.

Soon enough, Hope would come barreling into the morning room to interrupt Grace’s peaceful occupation. The Everly twins, known throughout the neighborhood for their opposing temperaments despite their identical appearance, had developed something of a pattern when it came to Hope’s rather outrageous conduct.

Hope would come up with a scheme, tell Grace all about it, then enact her plan. Sometimes it would be something as simple as arranging a picnic or musical recital for their friends, at other times it would involve somewhat more scandalous behavior. Most recently, Hope had taken to racing her phaeton against others with similar carriages pulled by ponies, often with Grace clinging to her bonnet with one hand and her seat with the other. Inevitably, when Hope did something that the local matrons frowned upon, news of it soon came to their parents.

“I did warn her this time,” she whispered into the quiet of the room, breaking the silence before her sister could.

The rumors of the races had evidently reached Papa, given the raised voices heard moments ago. The door slamming meant the conversation had ended, not in Hope’s favor, and she would appear at any moment to bemoan whatever punishment she had been given, while Grace listened.

Grace found her scissors and snipped the pink thread, completing the rosebud. She put her needles back in their box and tucked everything into her sewing basket. Then she folded her hands in her lap and waited.

She did not have to wait long.

The door to the morning room slammed open as though propelled by an explosion. Hope stormed in directly and banged the door shut again, her blue eyes flashing. “I cannot understand why Papa must be so sensitive to Mrs. Keyes’s opinions. I know perfectly well that other young ladies race their ponies. It is not as though I am stampeding about on a great big hunter.”

As usual, it fell to Grace to placate her twin. “Yes, but it is a matter of propriety. Simply because other young ladies do such things does not mean Papa wants his daughters to do the same.”

Upon first meeting the sisters, people often expected them to be as similar in personality as appearance. They both had the same black hair, even if Grace preferred more mature styles over the enormous curls her sister favored, and the same deep blue eyes. Yet Hope’s eyes were more likely to flash with passion while Grace’s remained as tranquil as forest pools. Even their figures had remained mostly the same as they matured.

If one looked carefully, one might note the slightest difference in height. Hope was a quarter of an inch taller, and three quarters of an hour older. Both facts she had used in the past to get her way when they entered into one of their rare disputes.

Hope snorted in a most unladylike manner. “It is astoundingly boring to limit myself to what Papa and Mama think are appropriate activities. It is all very well and good for you to sit here and practice domesticity, but I wish for something more stimulating. We are twenty-four years old this summer and nothing of interest has ever happened to us.”

Domestic. That was an apt word for Grace, and one she would happily wear with pride. Not that it did her any good when it came to finding a gentleman who might appreciate such a quality. Hope’s firm rejection of marrying “too early” had come to include Grace through association alone, and Grace worried they had waited until “too late.” Given that her thoughts naturally turned to one man when she considered the subject of matrimony, and that man showed no romantic interest in her, Grace put it from her mind.

There was no use examining such thoughts at the moment. Not with Hope’s state of agitation.

“What is it that would suit your desire for excitement?” Grace knew the answers, of course. “There are no highwaymen to stop your carriage, no pirates to come ashore and rob you, and no hidden treasure for you to stumble upon in the woods. You must learn, dearest sister, that most people have ordinary lives.”

“I hardly wish for anything so drastic.” Though Hope spoke with a wrinkled nose, her tone was more weary than scornful. “But why can we not go to London for the rest of the Season? Or Bath to take in the waters. Or to the Continent now that the war has ended.”

Mama did not like to travel, and Papa had no desire to go anywhere without her. They had spent most of their lives in their village of Aldersy. As Mama and Papa were considered to be pillars of the community, and their friendships included such people as the Earl of Inglewood, the Barnes Family, Sir Isaac Fox, and every member of the gentry within fifteen miles, they were quite content that neither themselves nor their children go wandering.

Grace did not bother pointing all of this out to Hope, as her sister knew it all well enough. But she did offer a commiserating grimace. “You need not go too far afield for adventure. You have proven that time and again.”

“And suffered rather severely for it,” Hope muttered. She went to the window and stood there, chin jutting out and brows drawn down into a scowl. “I cannot understand why you are like them rather than like me. Why do you not want to experience something more grand? Or different.”

Oddly, that was not a question Hope had ever tossed at her before. They had always accepted their disparity in personality, without complaint or judgment. Perhaps in part because they tired of everyone else around them asking inane questions about their twinship.

Grace considered her answer before giving it.

“I do not think I am necessarily like them. I am only myself. I enjoy our village, though I know it to be small. I find no lack of entertainment in our life here in the country. I have never thought to want more than what I am presently grateful for.”

Except for one thing. There was one single thing that Grace had wanted, and even wished for, but it was not something she could discuss with Hope.

“You are as good as your name.” Hope flicked the gauzy white curtain away from the window, peering down the lane. “Someone is coming to visit. I cannot tell who…”

Grateful for the change in subject, Grace rose to peer out the window as well. Hope stepped aside, pulling the curtain open wider.

When they stood next to each other, as they did to study the approaching gig, people had an easier time telling them apart. Grace wore subdued blues and greens, sometimes lavenders. Hope put on brighter colors, in yellows, peach-like pinks, and occasionally a daring shade of red. When they were younger, their mother had dressed them alike until they were old enough to settle on their preferences. Even in their sense of fashion, they diverged most naturally.

“I think it is the Carlburys.” Grace pointed at the distinctive dappled gray horse. “See, that is their horse.”

“Oh, lovely! And two women in the gig. Mrs. Carlbury must have Irene with her.” Hope bounced up and down, her earlier scowl no longer in evidence. “Come, let us go down and meet them.”