Once Upon a Kiss (Book Club Belles Society) (17 page)

“You are usually the one on tenterhooks for the post,” Rebecca said to Justina with a smile. “Have you given up waiting for your mysterious letter?”

She shrugged. “A watched pot never boils, as they say. Perhaps if I do not expect it, the wretched thing will come at last.”

“And you will not tell us what it is?”

“No!” She had decided not to inform her friends of the manuscript she’d sent away to a publisher. Even Catherine knew nothing about her ambitions and would probably think her vain. Changing the subject to direct their attention away from her, she added hastily, “Lucy hopes for sight of your brother, Becky. That is the reason she waits for the coach.”

Of all the Book Society ladies, only Diana Makepiece showed no excitement at the prospect of seeing Captain Sherringham again.

“I suppose you told your brother of my engagement in your letters,” she said as she stirred her tea, sitting very prim and straight in her chair.

Rebecca replied breezily, “Of course. Such important news must be shared. Nate insists upon knowing all that happens in his absence.”

Justina looked at Diana, waiting for more, but nothing came. Her spring green eyes were downcast, her black lashes leaving a shadow on her ivory cheeks. Diana was a classic beauty, but her countenance did not have the natural warmth and kindness of Cathy’s—as Mrs. Penny would be quick to point out.

Diana and her widowed mother lived carefully on a slender budget, but they did so with their heads high and never let anyone show pity. Always aware that she would be expected to marry well and shrewdly, Diana must have experienced great relief when she received a proposal from William Shaw, but although she spoke of her coup repeatedly, almost as if to reassure herself of her success, there was never a vast deal of emotion apparent in her face. This much-needed betrothal had not melted her icy exterior.

When Diana finally took her spoon out, the tea in her cup spun in a deep vortex. Cathy asked her if William Shaw was coming from Manderson to accompany her to the harvest dance. Diana replied that he would try, but his grandmama was sick and he may not be able to leave her side.

“Mustn’t risk his inheritance,” Justina remarked dourly. “I would tell him to remain with Old Moneybags rather than come to the dance.”

Her sister gave her a quick frown.

“What now? I am only being practical. Who cares about the silly dance anyway?”

Behind them all Lucy suddenly jumped, cup clattering in her saucer. “Oh, there is Mr. Wainwright riding by. With
another
handsome gentleman.”

At once Rebecca joined her by the window and beckoned to Cathy. Justina, restraining her curiosity with difficulty, kept to her chair. Diana, who seemed lost in thought while staring into her teacup, did the same.

“I wonder who it can be?” Rebecca muttered. “He certainly has a sunny smile.”

“Oh, he looks familiar,” said Cathy, her voice soft and puzzled. “Do come and look, Jussy. I believe we have seen that gentleman before.”

Now Justina had an excuse to look. Sighing heftily, she put her cup aside and went to the window. Her gaze instantly, and against her wishes or intentions, caressed Wainwright from head to toe. Spotless and devilishly handsome as ever.

The fair-haired gentleman riding beside him had an open, friendly smile.

“Never seen him before in my life.” Justina returned to her chair. She knew it was the gentleman who had danced with her sister in Bath—the one who was obliged to abandon Cathy, most humiliatingly, in the midst of a set because his friend would not stay with a stained waistcoat. It was a surprise to her that Cathy had not recognized Wainwright before now, but her sister had understandably paid more attention to her pleasant partner than to his disagreeable friend. Now she saw them together and it must have nudged her memory.

But Justina was not about to help her sister remember an incident, and a stained waistcoat, that she was doing all in her power to forget.

The evening of the harvest dance was upon them at last. Weeks of frenzied preparation came to this. The ladies of the Book Society gathered together, admiring one another’s gowns and hair. Lucy, as promised, sported her mother’s pearls, and this caused her to walk about with her head lifted and to utilize a rather foolish, high-pitched, exaggerated laugh that shook her head and made her earrings jostle to catch the light. All this, however, could be overlooked when she greeted Justina with giddy flattery, so surprised and unrehearsed that it had to be genuine.

“How lovely you look, Jussy. I almost didn’t recognize you!”

“It is nothing,” she replied with a nonchalant wave of her hand.

“But your hair looks so pretty tonight, and there is a glow about your face. Oh, I do wish my hair curled naturally like yours, but mine will hang like wet willow branches by the end of the first dance.”

Lucy had a knack for saying these things. It was artless and usually left the recipient feeling guilty for being irritated with the girl only moments before.

The harvest ball was held in Dockley’s barn, the largest covered dancing space in the village. As long as the rain held off, the old building served as an adequate function room. As the name inferred, it had once belonged to the property of old Farmer Dockley, but when he died without sons to tend his farm, his widow sold the land to Major Sherringham. The major was a merry fellow who declared there was nothing he liked to see more than young people enjoying themselves, so he had donated the broken down barn for the general use of the villagers. Of course, his benevolent gesture also absolved him of any responsibility or expense when it came to repairing the place.

Despite a leaky roof and leaning walls, the village ladies made the best of it, always gathering together to decorate the barn for annual dances and festivals, as well as the occasional wedding party.

Tonight, bowers of willow and autumn leaves cascaded from the rafters and benches were set around the walls for seating, but Justina always preferred the hay bales. It was not a harvest dance, in her opinion, without a hay bale to sit upon, and those who chose the benches were missing out, not truly getting into the spirit of things.

Diana arrived with her mother, but no William Shaw. His grandmama’s health, it seemed, had taken yet another turn for the worse when she learned of his plans to leave her for the evening.

“It is no matter,” said Diana, reminding Justina of herself a few moments earlier when she’d hurriedly dismissed Lucy’s admiration. “I would not have come this evening myself, if Mama did not want to go out. She insisted.”

Despite the fact that she was not wearing her best gown, Diana still looked elegant, her fine features and naturally graceful, well-balanced figure not requiring any artifice. She wore a simple green ribbon in her hair and it matched her eyes almost perfectly. Looking around the barn, she fidgeted with her long white gloves, which—like the roses on Justina’s slippers—were really too grand for the harvest dance, and asked whether Rebecca had yet arrived.

“No,” Justina replied, “nor has Captain Sherringham.”

Diana shrugged. “Oh…” She caught her breath and looked down at her gloved fingers. “I do not expect he will come.”

“But he promised his sister he would be here in time,” said Lucy.

“That rake is forever making promises and forgetting them.” Gloves adjusted finally to her satisfaction, Diana looked around at the other villagers, letting her gaze skim the barn with casual carelessness. “I do not hold my breath to see
him
again.”

“Well, of course,” said Justina, carefully keeping a solemn face. “After all, you are an engaged woman.”

“Precisely.”

The musicians seated at the end of the barn had just begun to play. Justina looked over at the benches and saw her mother poking and prodding at poor Cathy’s hair and dress. Her sister tolerated it with remarkable patience, as always. “One of these days I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Cathy doesn’t simply snap and take a wood axe to the pickle jars in the pantry,” she muttered. “No one could possibly hold all that inside and not suffer for it.”

Diana replied, “It is surprising how much a person
can
keep inside. Especially when they are bound by duty.”

Before anyone might react to that statement, a whispered exclamation swept the barn, gathering volume as it traveled. Every face turned. There in the open doorway stood the tall, breathtaking figure of Darius Wainwright.

Justina’s heart forgot to beat. Now, quite suddenly, she was torn between wishing she’d stayed home and being glad for the silly roses on her slippers.

***

“What a jolly scene this is,” Miles exclaimed, beaming, rubbing his hands together. “And so many lovely ladies. I hardly know where to begin.”

Darius had been forced out of the house by his friend’s enthusiasm to dance. Miles Forester, when determined, was like a strong storm at sea. It buffeted him about until he relented, weary and clinging to his mast. He took in his own sails and let the blustery gale lead his ship until it had worn itself out.

“If you don’t care to attend, I’ll go by myself,” Miles had threatened. “I suppose the good innkeeper Bridges will introduce me to the ladies of the village, if you cannot.”

Well, Darius could not let his friend go alone into the fray, could he?

As soon as they entered the place, every eye turned to observe them standing there. Like two stupid bookends, thought Darius, the tips of his ears feeling cold and exposed.

“What splendid fun,” Miles burbled away at his side. “I’ve never been to a dance in a barn before.”

“Really? I
am
surprised.”

“Oh, do take that dour expression off your face for once, man, and enjoy yourself.”

“
Enjoy
myself?”

“Yes, you know, stop worrying. Forget business for a few hours.”

“I hope the weather remains dry this evening as I understand the roof leaks.”

“All the better.” Miles chuckled. “I shall see the ladies running about in wet clothes, in need of me to shelter them.”

Dr. Penny and his wife had spotted the two gentlemen and were already urging their eldest daughter forward, but several other couples did the same with their single daughters too. They were about to be converged upon from all sides.

“Welcome to hell,” Darius muttered.

Miles quickly focused his sights on Miss Penny as her mother dragged her through the crowd of rowdy dancers. “Aha! Here comes a very pretty girl, indeed. There in the blue. Fancy you keeping her all to yourself, Wainwright! Introduce me at once, you blackguard!”

“I doubt you’ll need my help with an introduction. They don’t stand on ceremony around here.”

Darius left his eager friend to it. Moving away from the dancers, he collected a glass of punch and found a seat on a corner bench, away from the general commotion, where he might observe from a safe distance.

***

Justina watched her sister dancing and felt the usual forlorn mixture of pride and envy. Two more sins to note in her diary tonight, alas. There would, she had no doubt, be more by the end of the evening. As much as she knew Cathy was a most deserving object of that beauty—for she was just as sweet on the inside—it was very hard sometimes that all the good looks should have gone to one daughter, when they might have been shared in smaller measures between two. But perhaps
she
was destined for other things in life. Justina liked to think that was God’s reason. If He had one, other than a capricious delight in giving out challenges and setbacks to good people.

At the sight of a bright scarlet coat coming through the open barn doors, her mood lifted. Captain Nathaniel Sherringham, escorting his sister, made his way through the mob of villagers far too slowly for Justina’s patience. Usually she would set her punch aside and run through the dancers to greet him, but tonight, too aware of a certain pair of dark, disapproving eyes observing her from a shadowy corner, she must be more mature and that most terrible of all things—ladylike.

At last, after an interminable wait, the Sherringhams arrived at their small group and all the usual polite salutations were quickly dispensed with in favor of the friendly jocularity more familiar to all those present.

“You look—dare I say it—quite grown up tonight, Miss Jussy and Miss Lucy,” the captain exclaimed. “Have I been gone so long?”

“Indeed you have! So much has happened here,” Lucy replied excitedly. “There are new folk in the village, including a youngish rector and a very grand inhabitant at Midwitch Manor. And Diana is engaged.”

“So I heard.” He swiveled briskly on his heel to address Diana, who had not yet said a word. “William Shaw is a lucky fellow.”

Unsmiling, she opened her fan and fluttered it wildly before her face. “Thank you, Captain Sherringham.”

“He is a shopkeeper in Manderson, I understand.”

Her eyes narrowed and her slender neck lengthened. “Mr. Shaw is a landlord and businessman with two shops and potential to expand with a third.”

“And…not here tonight?”

“He was unable to attend due to family obligations.”

The captain stared at Diana while she kept her expression composed. Her fan was the most demonstrative thing about her. “I am disappointed,” he said softly. “I should like to meet the fellow who won your heart
and
your mama’s approval.”

“Excuse me.” Diana swept away, still fanning herself with extreme force. Her mother had been waving to her from across the barn for several minutes, but from Diana’s manner anyone would think she had not seen her immediately.

Mrs. Makepiece was a handsome woman who, twenty years ago, having found herself widowed suddenly, left with nothing but a baby and her deceased husband’s gambling debts, moved to Hawcombe Prior to keep house for her brother, the previous vicar. Now that he too had tipped up his boots, she and Diana did the best they could living on what little he’d left them. Justina had heard that Mrs. Makepiece came from an upper-class background, but she left her family behind when she entered a misalliance with a man beneath her—a man who was handsome and witty, but faithless and untrustworthy. It was a bitter lesson, plainly read in the hard lines that sometimes appeared across her brow, spoiling the features of her face.

Her brother, for many years the only family member who would acknowledge her after the scandal of her elopement, had sheltered the widow and her child out of charity. And he never let her forget it. Indeed the people of Hawcombe Prior might never have known she was his sister, for he always referred to her as his housekeeper and treated her thus.

Over the years, as Diana grew into an intelligent, attractive girl with good manners, she was apparently deemed “acceptable” by some members of her mother’s estranged family, for she had been invited to visit cousins near Oxford on occasion. But Mrs. Makepiece kept a tight rein on her only daughter, and Justina suspected Diana would not be allowed to make the same mistakes with her life.

The captain watched her go and then turned back to the other ladies. “Well, I must say, Miss Makepiece has become quite tired and sour-looking. I might not have recognized her. She has lost her bloom.”

“I am sorry for her,” said his sister.

“Why?” he demanded, hands behind his back, a curt, hard laugh sputtering out of him. “It is her choice. Through bias and persuasion one might be prevented from marrying a person, but no sensible woman is forced to wed against her will in this day and age.”

“It is all so simple for you, Nate.” Rebecca scowled at her brother.

He shrugged. “I cannot see that there is anything to pity her about.”

His sister explained in a low voice, “I am sorry for Diana because she has bartered her best gown all for a little fictional romance, in hope it will replace the lack of real love in her life. She yearns for what she doesn’t have and thinks she cannot have.” She looked over to where their friend now stood with her mama. “But I suspect she would thank no one for pointing that out to her. She is doing her duty, making her sacrifice for the mother who struggled all these years to raise her alone.”

Justina followed Rebecca’s gaze and realized it was true. She had been so busy mocking the romance in
Pride
and
Prejudice
that she failed to see how it fulfilled certain needs in the heart of the young woman who went to such trouble to acquire it. “Well, it makes me angry that Diana would marry a tedious fellow like Shaw if she doesn’t love him. I would not marry for anything other than the most passionate and devoted love.”

“I did not think you believed in love, Jussy,” Rebecca retorted with a wry smile.

“I never said that,” she replied, feeling very warm suddenly. “I merely believe it does not happen often. And I think it very sad when the presence or lack of money blinds people to the things they really need to be happy.”

“I do not blame Diana for getting William Shaw while she could,” said Lucy. “Even if he does tell the most uninteresting stories ever and has hairy nostrils. A girl can overlook a few faults for that sort of pin money.”

Justina once again wondered at the things that went on inside that fair head lately. “Lucy Bridges, you have become quite a mercenary hussy.”

The others laughed and Lucy pouted.

“You would not marry for money then, Miss Jussy?” the captain inquired with a playful smile.

“Indeed I would not.”

“I am glad to hear it. Very sensible of you.”

“I don’t plan to marry. I may not be a woman of independent means, but I shall always be of independent spirit!”

“But she
would
be a rich man’s mistress. She said so. It is preferable, she thinks, to being a wife.” Lucy’s high-pitched voice won out over the music and several faces turned their way, including—to Justina’s horror—that of Wainwright and his friend.

Fortunately Captain Sherringham was a gallant fellow, who knew what to do in a crisis. He offered Justina his hand and bowed smartly.

“Perhaps you’ll honor me with a dance, Miss Jussy?”