Page 32 of Discovering Grace

Grace raised her gaze and found Jacob watching her, his eyebrows drawn tightly together. Forcing her emotion back, she gave him her attention as best she could. “Yes, Mr. Barnes?”

Jacob pressed his lips tightly together a moment, then hurried on. “Perhaps you might arrange one of your famous picnics while Mr. King is visiting?” He winced after the words, then cleared his throat. “The orchards are perfect for such activities at this time of year.”

“I do love a picnic,” Miss Parr said, bouncing once in her seat. Had no one taught the girl to avoid putting herself forward in such a manner? It was not as though Grace had extended an invitation. If she did, she must now include the young woman. Drat Jacob, bringing up such an idea.

“I am not certain. Papa, what do you think?” Grace turned to her father, hoping he would recall his anger with Hope and tactfully refuse the request. Hope was to be punished, after all, for her willfulness and inability to think her actions through. Gifting her with a picnic would be preposterous—

Without much of a pause, her father nodded once. Most firmly. “Splendid idea. You ought to organize a picnic. A most excellent way to pass the time before your mother returns, and the children come home for the holiday.”

“Yes, Papa.” She swallowed her dismay and replaced it with a cheerful grin. “This will be lovely. And I will need everyone’s help to plan it, after dinner.”

“A glorious idea,” Sir Isaac said, raising his cup as though to toast her. “You always put on the best entertainments, Miss Everly. I remember the last party of yours I attended, before I purchased my commission.”

Grace barely listened as he described an adventure Hope had arranged which had them traipsing all about Everly Refuge, searching for items that corresponded to riddles she handed out. Yes, the party had been Hope’s idea, but Grace had written the riddles. And Hope had planned any number of picnics, but it was Grace who put together the menu and arranged the guest list.

“I will admit, I worried over the entertainment I might find in the country, but it sounds as though Miss Everly is an excellent hostess.” Mr. King tipped his head to her.

“I do my best, Mr. King.” Grace lifted her glass and drank as much as she dared, having nothing more intelligent to say.

Mr. Parr spoke, his blustery voice drawing attention to his end of the table. “I say, Mr. King, if you are in search of entertainment, might I offer you the use of my stream? It is the same as the Everlys’ brook, but has considerably more fish in it on my property before it gets to theirs.”

“You are forever saying you catch the largest fishes.” Grace’s father leaned back in his chair and one corner of his mouth tipped upwards. Mr. Parr and her father had always had a competitive friendship. “Given what I have pulled from my water, I cannot think it so.”

“Why fish in the little streams when we have the whole of the sea?” Isaac asked. “I have been thinking of purchasing a yacht, especially for fishing trips and to make my way to London with greater ease.”

“There are some beautiful boats I have seen in the Cumberland Fleet.” Mrs. Barnes leaned toward Isaac, waving her hand in the general direction of London. “Are you interested in joining any of the clubs?”

The next course was brought in amid the general conversation on the subject. Some were for the idea of a yacht, others thought them a nuisance and waste of money.

Grace, barely listening, kept an amused look upon her face. Hardly caring whether or not it appeared as false a mask as it felt. Everyone else might have put aside the idea of a picnic, but she could not so easily dismiss it.

The eldest Everly sisters had worked together on everything, and that made Hope’s endeavors successful. Always, Grace had assisted her sister’s plans. Grace supported her sister, and Hope made certain Grace had a say in each activity.

But no one had seen Grace, working furiously behind the curtain, putting the final touches on each detail. Then Hope pulled back the drapery and reveled in the attention Grace did not enjoy.

Hope received the praise and accolades while Grace received the gentle, pitying smiles. It had never bothered Grace before. She and Hope were a set. The accomplishments of one were celebrated by both.

Without raising her head, she peered up at Isaac. Despite his brush with death, and his missing arm, he carried on as he had before the war. He spoke pleasantly to all and laughed without reservation. Together, he and Hope had arranged many exploits, launched campaigns which put the five of the Silver Birch Society’s members in harm’s way and earned their parents’ disapproval. Try as Grace might, she could not think of a time when Isaac praised Grace’s more levelheaded nature.

Jacob sat across from her, and when she glanced in his direction, she found him staring rather bleakly at his plate. Doubtless he was thinking of Hope, too unaware of his feelings to yearn for his company as he must yearn for hers. Grace might be the one to share knowing glances with him from time to time, but it was Hope’s approval he looked for.

Had it always been that way? If she could show him, prove to Jacob she could be sociable, capable of putting people at ease, he might see she had the qualities he admired in Hope.

The picnic she arranged would need to be perfect. In fact, it needed to be the very best outing she had planned. That way, when all her friends and neighbors realized it was Grace and not Hope who had done all the work, they might pause long enough and reconsider whether they truly knew the Everly sisters at all.

Chapter 12

No one in the neighborhood appeared to possess the ability to truly observe another person. The previous evening, Jacob had watched, with mounting frustration, as not a soul at the dinner table had noticed something wrong with Miss Everly. Were the sisters so interchangeable to everyone else that they did not see how quietly she sat? How stiff she grew when they spoke of Grace Everly as though she was of little consequence?

He walked the dusty road to the Everly house, as early as propriety allowed, to meet with Grace. She could not be expected to organize her picnic alone, especially since it was his fault she had to plan it.

Grace’s grip had tightened around her fork, her expression had turned wooden, while the people who claimed to know both sisters discussed her unobtrusive nature.

She had rarely spoken the whole evening. Yes, it was more than typical for Grace, but far less than Hope. Usually at such a dinner party, Hope would regale them with stories and keep a great deal of the attention upon herself. She thrived with all eyes upon her, while Grace contented herself in joining the audience rather than be its focus.

“How does no one else see it?” he muttered as he kicked a particularly irritating pebble out of his path. Isaac should have noticed the difference. He knew Grace and Hope nearly as well as Jacob. They had all grown up together.

Though he waited all night for a word from Isaac, watched for a look of confusion or sudden comprehension, he never saw it. Which led his mind down another disturbing path. Isaac, even with his generous attentions as host, had been distracted. Catching up on all his estate business did not seem a suitable reason for such a neglectful frame of mind, either. The war had to have altered more than Isaac’s physical appearance and abilities. As his friend, and the man about to be made shepherd over the local flock of Anglicans, Jacob ought to find a way to help.