Page 48 of Discovering Grace

Rain had fallen most of the morning, and the clouds remaining in the sky meant Papa’s study was pale and gray even with the open curtains.

Papa sat in a chair this time, and he gestured for her to join him in the seat near his. “Grace,” he said, his tone more weary than strict. “I trust you have taken the time these past two days to contemplate your actions?”

“Yes, Papa.” She folded her hands in her lap, unwilling to tell him she did not regret her actions. Not unless he asked.

He sighed and removed his spectacles, tucking them into his coat. “I have given a great deal of thought to the situation as well. I have written a letter to Hope, and to the Carlburys. It will not reach them for weeks, perhaps months, but I felt it my duty to explain the situation to them. I also wrote to your mother, and I urge you to do the same. She should not be kept in ignorance of the situation, and I feel you ought to apologize for the disregard you have shown her in this matter.”

“Yes, Papa. I will write her.” Truthfully, she had started several letters to her mother only to give up after a few lines. She had cut the start of each letter off the paper until she had been left with a square too small to do any sort of explanation justice.

Papa sighed and rubbed his forehead, then dropped his hand onto the arm of the chair. “It is done, and there is little I can do to remedy the situation. Tomorrow is Sunday. I have asked Mr. Spratt if he will allow you a moment after services to speak to those assembled. It is an extraordinary request, but he agreed. I expect you to make a public apology and explanation for your actions. You may write it out if you wish, but it will be done.”

The room went cold, and Grace shuddered. “Papa, in front of everyone—”

“Yes, in front of everyone. You pretended to be your sister for all the world to see, you can offer up your confession and the truth in a similar manner.” His expression hardened and he leaned forward, his deep blue eyes a match for hers. “I am severely disappointed in you, Grace. You have never acted in such a manner that gave me cause to feel ashamed of you.”

“There was no other way,” she said, clenching her hands together. Her voice shook, her emotion spilling forth in a humiliating manner. “Papa, there was nothing else I could do to save myself. You would not listen to argument; you did not care what I wished or feared. I would rather have been locked in the attics than be sent so far. You know that, and you did not care.”

Her father stared at her, posture stiffening, before abruptly looking away. He said nothing. Did he think to dismiss her with silence? Papa loved her. He must listen.

Getting control of herself, Grace lowered her tone. “I know you think I am small, and weak, and shy. But it is not so, Papa. My friends care for me, they respect me. I am important, my feelings are important. You would not force me to leave your house in order to wed a man I did not like. Why would you send me into the world in a manner that you know would sicken me? Your anger with Hope may have been deserved, but the punishment of keeping her away from what she wished had nothing to do with sentencing me to misery.”

When he still said nothing, his hands flexing in his lap the only sign he had not turned into a wax figure, Grace stood. “I know you are upset with me, but I hope you can also understand my actions. I did not do anything in order to disrespect you, but to save myself from misery, as any creature with a heart would.” Then she dared to step forward and kiss him upon his cheek. He smelled of strawberries and tobacco, comforting scents. He did not pull away or flinch. That gave her some comfort.

Grace withdrew from the room, her mind upon what she must say in the morning after Mr. Spratt’s sermon. At least it was not his last. It would be a shame to mar the final Sunday he presided over their congregation with a mortifying public display.

Taking in a deep breath, Grace turned from the stairs and went out into the garden. She lifted a shawl from the hook on the way out but did not pause to do more. She had not been outside in days, and a walk through their little gardens would suit her nicely.

She went out the front door, intending to walk around the house to access the gardens, but she paused when she saw a horse and rider coming up the lane. The horse was not familiar to her, and the man upon its back did not look like one of her friends.

The rider saw her and increased his horse’s speed with purpose. It was Lord Neil, son of the Marquess. What business did he have at the Refuge? Although tempted to withdraw, her interview with her father had bolstered her spirits. She pulled the shawl tighter about herself and lifted her chin in the air, prepared to do battle.

Lord Neil pulled up short of her position. “Ah, Miss Grace, the very person I hoped to see.” His broken arm was in a sling, keeping it still and tight against his chest. His free hand held the reins of the horse in a firm grip. “You will excuse me if I do not dismount. My errand is short, and it is dashedly difficult to mount with one arm and no groom.”

“Perhaps you ought to ask Sir Isaac how he manages,” Grace said tartly, then bit her tongue. Throwing her friend’s injury out as some kind of challenge showed Isaac little compassion or respect. She lowered her eyes to the ground where the horse’s hoof pawed at the gravel.

The nobleman surprised her with a chuckle. “I might do just that.” Then he cleared his throat and she saw his riding boot twitch. “As I have said, it is you I have come to see. I have heard about what you and your sister did, trading identities.”

Grace nodded, wondering if he expected an apology of some sort. They had thwarted the punishment given for causing his injury, after all.

“I wanted to tell you that I thought it was cleverly done, and I harbor no resentment toward either of you.”

His words surprised her into looking up, a protest rising to her lips. He could not be serious. Lord Neil had ever been a rascal, after all, and often made things difficult for others. Yet Grace studied his face before speaking, taking in the bend of his eyebrows and the intensity of his stare.

“My lord, you have come to compliment me on my duplicity?” If ever there was an indication she had done something wrong, it would be Lord Neil’s approval.

“It may be better to say I do not condemn them.” He offered her a tight smile. “My sister went on something of a tirade when she heard of the matter, and I wanted to make certain you knew I did not feel the same. The whole situation might be viewed as something of a joke, you know.”

What was she to make of such a pronouncement? “I thank you, my lord.” She did not bother to hide her skepticism and he actually grinned at her.

“There is gossip, Miss Grace. Or Miss Everly, I suppose, with your sister gone away. People are speculating your reasons for such a thing. They are also saying it is a grave insult to my father, to Olivia, and to myself that your sister escaped punishment for my injury. I have done what I could to placate my sister, and I have assured anyone who has spoken to me that I feel no ill will toward you.”

Still unable to believe him, Grace barely offered up the polite and expected words. “I thank you for that, my lord.”

Lord Neil took up the reins and his horse stepped to the side in response. His lordship’s face changed again, looking more serious. “I realize I am not often a pleasant person, Miss Everly. But I give you my word, today I speak sincerely. Good morning to you.” He nodded deeply and when she returned the farewell he turned his horse about and left.

Watching him go down the lane, Grace narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “I suppose he could have made my life more difficult,” she said aloud, still trying to puzzle him out. While Lord Neil had never done anything explicitly rude toward her, she knew he and her dear friend Silas had many fractious encounters. The most recent of which involved Lord Neil’s flirtation with Silas’s wife, Esther.

Whatever the man was about, she had no wish to know the particulars. Hoping he had been sincere to her was all she could do.