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Carving for Miss Coventry

Page 20

by Deborah M. Hathaway

But still, in this regard, she had her hands tied. Father had requested each of his family members to prove that they, the prior working class Coventrys, were worthy to mingle with gentlemen and ladies. Marianne hardly cared whom she mingled with, just so long as she got to speak with someone.

Except for the Abbotts, of course.

Mama pulled her lips to the side. “Very well. But not a word to your father about this, understood?”

Excitement’s broad doors opened wide inside Marianne’s chest, allowing even more light to enter. “Oh, thank you, Mother!”

She gave her a quick embrace then retreated toward Miss Clark nearby with a lilt in her step.

As she approached, Miss Clark greeted her with outstretched fingers. “Miss Marianne, it is so lovely to see you.”

Marianne smiled, taking her hands. Miss Clark had always been kind to her, though she was better friends with Beatrice, being closer in age and in similar circumstances. Well, they had been in similar circumstances. Now, Miss Clark removed her hands from Marianne’s and laced her arm tightly through her betrothed’s.

After the usual greetings, Marianne faced them both. “This was the second time the banns have been read, yes? You must both be eager for the coming week to be accomplished.”

“Indeed,” Miss Clark said, beaming up at her soon-to-be-husband. “Are we not, Mr. Morris?”

He grinned right back. “Absolutely.”

Marianne felt as if she was imposing, so long did their gaze last. She couldn’t blame the couple, of course. She would be just as excited, should she ever be in the same circumstances.

Mr. Henry Clark then came up to stand beside his sister, his usual happy smile taking up half his face. “Good morning, Miss Marianne.”

“Mr. Clark, how do you do?”

The man—having just returned from Oxford that year—was charming in a boyish sort of way.

“Are you enjoying being home again?” she asked.

His grin had yet to falter. “Very much so.”

“I’m terribly sorry we have not been to call in so very long, Miss Marianne,” Miss Clark said. So she was able to pry her eyes from Mr. Morris’s. “We’ve been so busy with our wedding preparations, you see.”

“Entirely viable excuse, of course. I fear I must apologize, as well, though. My sister calls upon you so often without my knowledge. I’ve not been able to send my regards.”

Miss Clark tipped her head. “Oh, but she has not called these last few weeks.”

Marianne narrowed her eyes. That couldn’t be right. “She told me she visited with you twice only this past week.”

Miss Clark looked to her brother. “Have I missed Miss Coventry’s calling?”

“I do not believe so. Though, she is more than welcome to call, of course.” He directed his grin once more at Marianne. “Or you are welcome to come on your own, if you wish, Miss Marianne.”

She shifted her feet uncomfortably. Miss Clark shook her head at her brother then gave Marianne a sympathetic look. Was Mr. Clark unaware that she was still not out in Society? It was true that most of Ashwick—excepting the Abbotts, most likely—had thought perhaps Father would allow Marianne out when she was twenty. Even Marianne herself had hoped that. All of her friends, and most of her friends’ younger siblings, had already married.

Obviously, Father had other plans.

She nodded an awkward thanks to Mr. Clark then turned back to Miss Clark. “You are certain Beatrice did not visit you this last week?”

“Yes, my dear. Quite certain. I’ve been occupied all week with Mr. Morris’s family who have just arrived for the wedding.”

Marianne stared off, revisiting the conversation she’d had with her sister. She was certain Beatrice had said she’d called on the Clarks. But then, Marianne had been distracted by her upcoming visit with Mr. Steele—and with hiding the pastries. Perhaps she’d heard wrong.

Unless, of course, Beatrice had made the agreement with Marianne to keep her location a secret from Mother because Beatrice had not, in fact, been at the Clarks.

Marianne inwardly shook her head. She was once again letting her imagination run wild. Beatrice had no reason to be untruthful.

A movement at the corner of her eye pulled her attention away from the Clarks. Mother and Beatrice waved her over to the gate leading toward the carriages.