Mattie went to place a hand on her sleeve, but Franny yanked back her arm. “I want to go home! I don’t want to live in this dilapidated cottage!” she shouted. “I want my bed, my friends and my old life back.”
With a hand covering her mouth, Franny ran from the kitchen. A moment later, the sound of a door slamming echoed through the cottage.
Her father’s eyes remained fixed on the empty doorway. “Poor Franny. She is taking this rather hard.”
Mattie accepted a plate of food from Mrs. Watson. “We must give her the space she needs.”
“Do you truly believe that will make a difference?” her father asked, his voice tinged with doubt.
She sighed. “It is not just space she needs. She needs time, understanding and the reassurance that she’s not alone. We can’t replace what she has lost, but we can help her find her way back to some semblance of normalcy.”
Her father nodded slowly. “You are right,” he said. “Perhaps you would like to give my next sermon.”
“Do you still intend to work as a vicar?”
“Yes, but only until they find my replacement,” her father replied. “I must admit that I am getting a little tired of peoplecalling me ‘my lord,’ and it has only been a day since I have heard the news.”
Mattie smiled. “You have a lifetime to get used to that.”
“Do not remind me,” her father said, sitting down next to her. “How are you faring with everything?”
Her smile dimmed. “I am doing the best that I can,” she said. “I called upon Lady Dallington yesterday and that truly lifted my spirits.”
“I think very highly of Lady Dallington. She was the first to offer condolences when your mother passed away,” her father revealed, his eyes growing reflective. “They were in Town, visiting the late Lord Dallington, and she even ordered the cook to bring us food for weeks.”
Mattie picked up her fork and knife and took a bite of her breakfast, the familiar taste bringing a small measure of comfort. “Lady Dallington has offered to host me for the Season,” she shared.
Her father stared back at her. “This upcoming Season?”
“Yes, the upcoming Season.”
He frowned deeply. “Absolutely not! We are in mourning,” he declared. “It would be unacceptable for you to participate in such frivolous social events.”
Mattie pushed the food around her plate with her fork. “I am one and twenty years old and I have never had a Season.”
“That is because we couldn’t afford one,” her father said.
“I know, but our circumstances are different,” Mattie pressed. “We haven’t discussed it yet but I am hoping I am in possession of a dowry now.”
Her father leaned forward in his seat. “Yes, you have a dowry of fifteen thousand pounds, as does your sister, and Franny.”
Mattie’s heart took flight at that news. “Fifteen thousand pounds?” she repeated. “That is a fortune.”
“It is, but I am not ready for you to attenda Season,” her father insisted. “You are needed at home to care for Franny and your sister.”
“It is only for a few months, Father, and…”
Her father started rubbing his temples, a sure sign that he was growing upset. “I know, but I just worry about you. This transition has been difficult enough without the added pressure of societal expectations.”
“I will be careful,” she promised. “And I will return home whenever you need me. But please, do not discount Lady Dallington’s offer so quickly.”
He studied her face for a long moment before bobbing his head. “Very well. I will consider it, but that doesn’t mean I will agree to it. It just means I will give it additional thought.”
“Thank you, Father,” Mattie said.
“Do not thank me yet,” her father responded as he rose from his seat. “If you will excuse me, I have a meeting with Mr. Johnson soon about the state of my father’s estate.”
After her father departed from the kitchen, Mrs. Watson claimed the seat he had just vacated.
