She spoke over him. “I have done everything you have asked of me without complaint,” she said. “Just this once, I want something for myself.”
Her father stood silently, his resolve seemingly unwavering yet visibly pained by her distress. “I wish things were different,” he said. “But for now, my decision stands.”
Mattie stared at him for a long moment, her heart heavy with disappointment. Without another word, she left the study, feeling more trapped than ever in the confines of her family’s expectations.
She rushed out the main door and sat down on the bench under the covered porch, the cool evening air doing little to soothe her turmoil. She let the tears flow freely, not caring one whit as they rolled down her cheeks. When had her happiness become less important than the rest of her family’s?
A man’s voice broke her out of her musings. “Good evening.”
Mattie’s head came up, startled to see the man who had been watching her from the woodlands standing a short distance away. She jumped up from her seat and rushed over to the door.
“Please, don’t go,” he called out to her. “I mean you no harm.”
She paused, her hand on the door handle. “Who are you?” she demanded.
The man smiled, his expression warm and unthreatening. “I am Mr. Isaac Blythe. I am one of Lord Dallington’s new tenants.” He pointed towards the horizon. “I am staying at the Stewarts’ old place.”
Mattie recalled that Mr. Stewart had recently moved, leaving the cottage vacant. She dropped herhand from the door, curiosity mingling with her initial apprehension. “May I ask what you are doing here?”
His eyes crinkled around the edges as he smiled again. “I am becoming better acquainted with my neighbors. You never know when you might need to borrow something.” He took a step back, giving her space. “But if I came at an inconvenient time, I understand.”
“No, you did not,” Mattie responded, wiping her eyes quickly. “I was just…”
“I know it is not my place, but you seem upset,” Mr. Blythe said gently. “May I render some assistance?”
“No, that won’t be necessary, but thank you.” She tried to muster up a reassuring smile.
The door opened and her father stepped out onto the porch, his gaze more curious than anything. “Mattie, who is this?” he asked.
Mattie gestured towards their neighbor. “This is Mr. Blythe. He resides in the Stewarts’ old cottage.”
Her father tipped his head in acknowledgement. “I am Lord Wythburn. I am the vicar of this parish, at least for the time being.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord,” Mr. Blythe responded. “I was just speaking to your lovely daughter. Miss Bawden, is it?”
Mattie dropped into a curtsy. “Yes, it is.”
Mr. Blythe bowed. “Well, I should be going,” he said. “I do not wish to intrude during suppertime.”
Her father cleared his throat, and Mattie knew precisely what he was about to do. “Would you care to join us for supper?”
Putting up his hand in front of him, Mr. Blythe replied, “I could not impose.”
“Nonsense,” her father said. “It would be no bother, and I insist. It is, after all, the neighborly thing to do.”
Mr. Blythe’s smile returned. “I am most grateful,” he said. “Thank you.”
Her father held open the door, indicating that she should go first. After she stepped inside, Mr. Blythe followed behind her as she led him to the kitchen.
When she stepped into the kitchen, Mrs. Watson’s eyes widened slightly, but only for a moment. She was used to guests joining them for supper by now. Mrs. Watson quickly went to collect another plate setting for the table, her movements efficient and practiced.
“Excuse me, I need to take a plate to Franny. She has opted to have her dinner in her bedchamber,” Mrs. Watson said, addressing Lord Wythburn.
Her father acknowledged Mrs. Watson’s words with a nod before he gestured towards a chair at the table. “Please have a seat, Mr. Blythe.”
Mr. Blythe waited until Mattie was seated before he did the same.
“What has brought you to this fine village?” her father asked.
