Page 53 of Married By Twelfth Night
“Goodnight, Gracie.”
Chapter 22
Grace lay in herbed during that stage between wakefulness and sleeping. It was in this clear state, where the mind was not bogged down with tasks and conversation, where Grace remembered something from Mr. Green’s Christmas ball. It was a riddle Richard had wanted her to solve in which she found him a single woman who was well-read, observant, mildly pretty, and exceptionally musical.
She had answered Ruth.
And not a day later, he had announced his intention to marry her.
Her eyes opened with sudden clarity. Did Richardhaveto marry Ruth, or someone like her, to save Belside? She pulled herself up on her elbows. Could it be a coincidence? Why had she not seen it before? The events of the previous night flooded into her mind. His Aunt Edith had been very particular about Grace. Could she have been particular about who she wanted Richard to marry too?
“Good heavens!” she said into the stillness of the room. What a terrible expectation for a relative to require, even if it was in exchange for money. She flipped the blanket off her legs and yanked the bellpull for her maid.
While she dressed, she fretted over the conclusion she had come to. She needed to clarify the whole situation with Richard. But deep down, a pit formed in her stomach. She had wanted Richard to turn his feelings to her, but what if that was not even an option?
And to think she had almost kissed him again last night and ruined everything for him. By the time breakfast was over, she was nearly convinced of his aunt’s cruelty. She chewed on her fingernail, which she never did, when she was supposed to be sorting through all her clothes to donate for St. Stephen’s Day. She managed a small pile, but she couldn’t concentrate to manage anything greater.
Mama stuck her head into her bedchamber. “I finally have a moment to myself, and I want you to tell me all about last night.”
This was not the time for Mama’s excessive questions or hints of weddings. But she had to say something or Mama would not leave her alone. Where to start? “The food was excellent.”
Mama came and sat down on the edge of her bed. “And?” Her wide expectant eyes were almost laughable.
“And we sang carols.”
Mama’s face lit up. “How lovely. . . Wait, did you sing too?”
“Of course. Carols are meant to be sung as a group.”
Mama’s smile drooped. “But you were not overly loud, were you?”
What a question. “We were singing praises, which are meant to be done with gusto.”
“I see.” Mama rubbed a spot on the center of her forehead.
Grace knew her voice was not the kind to be admired, but last night singing with Bridget and Richard had been wonderful. They did not care about the quality of her tone. They were her friends. She nearly smiled at that. She honestly counted Richard as her friend and a dear friend at that. They had come so far.
A maid interrupted them, announcing Mr. Craig had come to visit.
“Mr. Craig?” she repeated. No, no, no. Richard was supposed to visit, not Mr. Craig.
“Let’s not keep him waiting,” Mama said, waving her hand to get Grace to hurry. “Mr. Graham hasn’t proposed yet, so you must keep your options open.”
“Mama!” she chided.
Mama shrugged. “Not all courtships are about romance, you know. You have to think practically too.”
Grace had always been practical, but she no longer wanted to be. She wanted the feeling that only came when Richard was near. But Mama was right. After the revelation Grace had come to this morning, Richard might be as unattainable as ever. She should beverynice to Mr. Craig. Although her heart would not be in it, she would try. She didn’t want to be the woman Bridget had described her to be—the one who only chased away men.
Mr. Craig was overly charming during his visit. His eagerness and confidence led her to believe that he had a list of conquests at home. He complimented her in every other sentence, which made everything he said feel ungenuine. There was nothing unlikeable about him, but nothing likable either.
Mr. Craig discreetly shifted closer and closer until there was no longer a separate cushion between them on the sofa. Mama pulled out her knitting and turned her body away from them to allow a bit of privacy. Mr. Craig took it as an opportunity to press his leg against the outside of hers. Instead of a thrill, she felt a wave of unease.
He spoke to her in a lowered voice. “I am leaving after Twelfth Night, Miss Steele, but I would like to come again before the end of January. Would you welcome such a visit?”
This was her chance. She could secure his affection now and not have to leave Wetherfield. One thought persisted above the rest: He’s not Richard.
“Forgive me,” she said at last. “There is someone else my heart belongs to.” Her face burned as she admitted the difficult words. But no matter how hard she had tried during his visit, she would never see herself with Mr. Craig. And it would not be fair to encourage him to ride such a far distance from his home if she could not return his affections.
