Page 17 of Discovering Grace

The wind rustled the tree limbs outside Hope’s window, creating a strange swishing sort of sound Grace could not ignore. Hope’s linens smelled of lilacs while Grace preferred apple blossom soaps and perfumes. It was yet another thing, though small, that illustrated the differences between them. Grace loved the familiar scents of her family’s apple orchards, while Hope longed for something entirely different.

Grace had finally fallen asleep, but woke again with the sun. Another day stretched before her in which she would wear her sister’s clothes and try to avoid anyone who might notice that Miss Everly was not acting precisely as one expected.

She spoke little to her maid, hoping Susan interpreted her silence as continued melancholy. The kindhearted maid offered cheerful observations of the day ahead, noting the fine morning, that there were special biscuits for breakfast, and all manner of inconsequential pleasantries.

Grace’s tired mind worked into a tangle over how she must behave as she took herself down to breakfast. Her father sat at the head of the table when she arrived, the dining room empty and nearly silent as he sipped at his morning coffee. His spectacles were upon his head and his newspaper lay folded to one side.

“Good morning, Hope,” he said upon noticing her in the doorway.

She curtsied. “Good morning, Papa.” Did she sound too subdued? Ought she to try and sound more belligerent? At least she need not pretend to have a great appetite. Grace imagined Hope, had she been left behind in truth, would not take much more than toast and tea. That was all she served herself from the sideboard before taking Hope’s customary seat a chair away from her father’s left hand. Habit nearly sent her to her own chair on the other side of the table, but she thankfully kept her head enough to avoid that mistake.

Her father said nothing as she nibbled at her toast, busying himself with his ham and eggs. Grace kept her eyes upon her plate, determined to eat swiftly and with as few words as possible.

“I must admit to some relief at your manner, Hope.” Her father’s voice intruded upon her frantic thoughts. “I expected you to either take to your room like some heroine in a Gothic novel, or else stomp about enough to shake the rafters loose.” He chuckled.

Grace’s fingers went cold and she swallowed her dry bite of toast with difficulty. Had she miscalculated the best way to behave as her sister?

“I am disappointed,” she said at last, trying to keep her voice even. “But I do regret my actions.”

“As I can see. I do hope Grace is handling her change in circumstances with the same sort of stalwart attitude.” Her father shifted in his chair, but she kept her eyes down and held her hands in her lap, gripping her own fingers tightly. There was nothing and no one else to offer support. “I must admit, I had my misgivings,” her father continued. “I know how much that voyage meant to you, my dear. Yet you must learn to let good sense rule your actions rather than your propensity to inact mischief.”

“Yes, Papa.” Grace did not even dare to reach for her tea. The slightest movement might betray her anxiety.

“I do feel for Grace, however.” She nearly jerked upon hearing her name spoken again. “She has never desired to go far from home, to seek out new experiences as you always have. I think my decision to send her away may have frightened her.”

It had terrified her. Grace’s stomach twisted at the hated idea of stepping foot upon a vessel meant for the ocean. To hear her father express regret gave rise to guilt, however, which she liked no more than she had her fear.

“It is your opposing natures that leads me to believe you will have more opportunities in future, Hope. There will be other times, other experiences, which you will find and take advantage of. I know you well enough to realize that this one setback will not put an end to your sense of wonder.” Her father’s words were kind, spoken gently. Grace dared to raise her head, finding that her father stared at her with a softness in his features.

The guilt nearly erupted from her in a confession. Papa loved her. He loved Hope.

“Grace will never search for more from life than what it hands to her,” he added, his expression as gentle as before though his words cut into her heart. “She is not as brave as you. I think this experience will teach you to temper your ways, but it will show Grace she cannot live her life timidly. You will see. Grace will come back with confidence and a new appreciation for the world outside our county.”

Any desire she had entertained to confess the whole of what they had done to her father vanished. He thought her a coward, and he thought his punishment a boon to her. Grace bit her lip and averted her eyes. Did he truly know her so little?

“Yes, Papa,” she whispered. Her stomach grew hot, the last few bites of toast upon her plate unappetizing. If only she had found a reason to take a tray in her room.

“As I have considered these things,” Papa continued, “I have determined to allow you a few more liberties than we discussed before. I am attending the Greenfields’ card party this evening and I should like you to accompany me.”

Her eyes snapped up and she responded without thought, much as Hope might have done. “The Greenfields? Papa, you said I was not to go anywhere, nor see anyone, for weeks and weeks. You cannot change your mind now.” She depended upon staying at home, staying away from any and all who knew her sister well enough to perhaps recognize the inconsistencies in character. “I cannot possibly go.”

Her father’s black eyebrows lowered. “What is this? Why not? Is the idea of accompanying your father so dreadful?”

“No, Papa.” She shifted nervously, her hands sliding down her skirt as her palms began to sweat. What possible reason could she give to stay at home? “It would be humiliating.” There was nothing Hope disliked so much as damage to her pride. “Everyone knows I should have gone away with the Carlburys. Facing our neighbors, having to explain the situation—”

“Would do you a world of good.” Her father’s eyes narrowed and he rose, tossing his napkin upon the table. “You are too proud, Hope. Everyone in the neighborhood knows of your accident with Lord Neil and that Grace has gone in your place. If your feather-headed friends push you for more information, it would serve you right. Humble yourself before our community, my dear, and learn your lesson fully.”

“But, Papa—” She did not know what she would say, and he did not give her time to attempt another word.

“You will be ready to attend with me at seven o’clock this evening.” He left no room for argument.

Grace gulped back her protest and lowered her head. “Yes, Papa.” She did not look up as he left the room, listening to his retreating footsteps and then the slam of his study door. What was she to do? Feigning an illness would make him angry and he might call her bluff, or study her too closely, or any number of other unpleasant things. She would have to go to the party, as Hope, and pray that no one would realize she acted in any way out of character.

The nature of her punishment would account for any strange conduct. Even Hope might be subdued with such a great disappointment in her life.

Telling herself that no one knew Hope better than she did had given Grace the courage to propose the idea of switching places. Where had all that confidence gone? Was her father right about her nature? Did she truly lack courage?

Grace spent the day wrestling with her thoughts, sitting in Hope’s room. She refused to pace. That was what Hope did when nervous or excited. Grace usually withdrew, sat in quiet contemplation, until her mind made its peace with whatever event put her into such flights of emotion. Somehow it was easier to maintain calm when she was in her own room or could be in the library. In Hope’s chamber, decorated in bright yellows and pinks, it was difficult to settle her thoughts.