Page 31 of Discovering Grace

“Oh, it is not as terrible as it sounds,” Miss Parr said from across the table, soup spoon held delicately. “The local rake was the injured party.”

Grace spoke up quickly, trying to infuse her words with humor. “I think that makes it sound rather worse than before, Miss Parr.”

“The whole of the story,” Miss Barnes said from Mr. King’s other side, “is quite diverting. Miss Everly and her sister, Miss Grace, raced the son and daughter of a marquess, in phaetons pulled by ponies.” She covered her smirk with her fingertips.

“Ah, that does sound like an interesting tale.” Mr. King leaned toward Grace, over the arm of his chair. “And the gentleman, I assume, is still alive to tell his version?”

Jacob at last entered the conversation, firm voice carrying across the table. “Lord Neil is well enough.”

Miss Parr giggled and glanced at Jacob from the corner of her eye. “Mr. Jacob Barnes does not particularly care for Lord Neil.”

From up the table, Sir Isaac spoke, his manner sardonic. “Lord Neil never ran in our circle, and none of us wished him ill. Still. I have heard he is healing well and perhaps his injury will prove instructive to him.”

A quick glance in Papa’s direction gave Grace every reason to attempt to make herself smaller. He glared at his soup in as fierce a manner as he had glared at Grace when he learned of the accident. He said nothing, and though Grace watched him, no one else seemed inclined to seek his opinion on the matter.

“I understood it was Lady Olivia who initiated the race.” Mrs. Parr joined the conversation, her tone mild. “I cannot approve of young ladies behaving in such a manner. I hope the accident curbs the desire for gently bred women to take part in such sport. It is neither safe nor seemly.”

“Miss Everly’s sister was with her,” Mr. King said, coming back to that point. “I have yet to meet her. Is she not yet out?”

“Grace is Miss Everly’s twin.” Miss Parr’s knowing smirk made her far less likable than Grace had previous supposed. “A very quiet young lady.”

Isaac put down his spoon. “Very quiet, but a particular friend of mine.” Something like a warning flashed in his eyes at Miss Parr, and her superior look dimmed. “Miss Grace has left us all behind to have an adventure. She is on her way to the West Indies with friends.”

“Indeed? I have always wanted to travel. She must be an adventurous young lady.” Mr. King’s pleasant expression fell when he saw the knowing smirk of Miss Parr return. But it was not the self-important young woman who elected to correct him.

It was Grace’s own father.

“Adventurous? Not Grace.” Papa leaned back enough to allow the footman to take his bowl and lay down a dish with the next course. “My dear girl has no liking for exploration or excitement. It is the wish of her mother and myself that she will gain some spirit from her journey. Hope is our adventurer.” He nodded to Grace and everyone at the table turned to study her, as though they had never seen her before. All except Jacob. He kept his eyes upon the dish in front of him.

What would Hope do with so many stares upon her? She certainly would not quell beneath the curious eyes of her neighbors. No. She would sit taller, tilt her chin up, and dare them all to disapprove of her. Grace tried. Assuming a stiff posture, and the haughty expression she had seen her sister wear on any number of occasions, she did her utmost to challenge them to speak ill of her.

“Poor, dear Grace.” Mrs. Barnes met Grace’s eyes with a heaviness in her own. “It will not be easy for her to be so far from home.” Her eyes flicked to Jacob, then she turned her attention to her meal, slicing her meat delicately.

“No, it will not be easy,” Papa agreed. “But I think it necessary. The Carlburys will keep her safe. What better way for a young person to learn about the world than to step out into it?”

He and Mama rarely left the familiarity of their lands and the village. How could he wish for her, the child who shared his love of their home to such a degree, to go far from it?

Grace needed to speak. Silence did not suit Hope. Not when opinions of her character and her sister’s were bandied about so easily at a dinner table. Contradicting her father in front of their neighbors would prove unwise, however.

The irritating Miss Parr spoke again, after sipping from her cup of wine. Hopefully it was well-watered, the girl hardly seemed mature enough to step out of the school room. “We are lucky, Mr. King, that you have come while the adventurous Everly is at home and her sister gone away to learn to be more interesting.”

“Bettina,” her father said, the warning low from his place at the other end of the table. His daughter flushed and lowered her cup to the table.

Learn to be more interesting? What a horrid thing to say. Grace did not go about over-turning carriages like her sister, or pushing irritating gentlemen into ponds, or climbing up trees to fetch lost kites, but did that relegate her to the position of a wallflower?

She held to the arm of her chair, squeezing the wood tightly enough she might see the whorls of it in her hand if she looked closely.

Mr. King started talking again and everyone laughed. Grace did not pay enough attention to know why.

Their neighbors did not regard her as highly as they did Hope. Though she and Hope were nearly inseparable, attending every public and private function with each other, Grace had noticed the enthusiasm with which people always greeted her twin. Especially their friends and the younger set. Hope knew how to play every game, knew the steps to every dance, and told entertaining stories.

What did Grace do, but stand in her sister’s shadow and play the pianoforte? Sometimes she held conversations, quietly and politely, with the matrons. She made certain to include those young and old who stood on the outskirts of the festivities, like herself.

Stabbing at the lamb on her plate, Grace struggled to remain silent. Had she become a wallflower without realizing it? Did no one think of her when they wished for entertainment? How would they change their opinions if they knew it was always Grace who planned Hope’s popular parties and picnics?

The thoughts tumbled about in her head, mingling with her guilt. What would they say if they knew it was Grace and not Hope in their midst? Perhaps they would make excuses. They might even pay her a compliment of some kind, the polite sort of thing one says to just about anyone.

“Miss Everly.”