Page 5 of Discovering Grace

Umbrellas. All his concern over Hope’s safety and her own mother was fretting over mere accessories. When Hope flounced over to take a seat next to her mother to discuss the subject in greater detail, Jacob fled the seating area and went to the window to stand near Grace.

Always the levelheaded member of their little group, Grace would be able to tell him what was going on and why. She had turned back to the window, so he faced the same way, tucking his hands behind his back.

Quietly, he asked, “When does she leave?” Perhaps, if he had a few weeks, he might talk her out of going. Or at least give her a reason to stay.

“They go to Town next week,” Grace answered, resignation in her tone. “They are finalizing her purchases in London, and then they will set sail.” Shaking her head, Grace released a quiet sigh. “Her trunks are already packed. Mama is just worrying over final details now. The Carlburys will visit this evening and, I am certain, will put her mind at ease regarding the umbrella situation.” The tiniest note of humor crept into the last of Grace’s words.

He appreciated her efforts on his behalf, for she obviously saw his distress. But had anyone taken notice of hers?

Jacob took a step to the side, so their arms nearly brushed. “Are you going to be all right? You two have never been apart. Hope will be gone for—”

“A year,” she supplied the term with reluctance. “Perhaps a little less.” Grace released a shallow sigh and tipped her head to the side, regarding him with heavy eyes. “I cannot quite believe it, yet with Hope speaking of nothing else for the past two days, I have little choice in the matter.”

Had they been alone, Jacob would have reached for her hand or put his arm around her shoulder. They were old friends, after all, and the ache in her eyes matched what he felt in his heart.

“I am sorry, Grace,” he whispered, then turned his eyes back to the window. He did not truly see beyond the glass. “Sorry for us both.”

How could Hope leave them like this?

“Jacob,” Hope said, pulling his attention around to the woman causing his distress. His heart thumped sorrowfully as he compelled his features into another pleasant expression. “What should I bring on the journey? I wonder if you might think of something we have not. You are always so practical.”

Was that how she saw him? Merely as practical? The word sounded so entirely her opposite at the moment. But then, she was right. A third son from a large family, he had learned to be practical and to make the best of things from a young age. Stepping away from the window and Grace, likely the only person as saddened by Hope’s good fortune as he, Jacob endeavored to make himself useful by speaking of voyages, packing lists, and the sort of things a lady might expect to do while visiting the islands of the Caribbean Sea.

His visits normally took up a half hour or more of time, but with Hope fluttering about the room in her preoccupied state, he barely managed to remain a quarter of an hour. When he took his leave, Hope gave him a brief curtsy, her mother a quick nod, and it was Grace who followed him from the room and down the stairs.

When they came to the entry, where his gloves and hat rested on a table near the door, Grace broke into his thoughts with her hesitant words. “This has come as a shock to you. I am sorry, Jacob.” She reached her hand toward him, as though to place it on his arm, but then raised it instead to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Grace had always been less demonstrative than Hope, but just as compassionate.

He took it upon himself to lay his hand upon her shoulder, offering a gentle squeeze of comfort. “It is a shock. But given what we know of Hope, we can only be happy for her. Everyone in the neighborhood will miss her.” He cleared his throat and stepped away, averting his eyes. He had no wish for Grace to see how much her sister’s announcement affected him.

“Good day, Grace.” He bowed and hastily exited, pulling on his gloves as he practically leaped down the stairs. His horse remained waiting for him, and that made it an easy matter to mount and hurry on his way. The future had seemed perfect that morning, ready as he was to take on a living that would at last allow him to also take a wife.

Kindly Mr. Spratt, who was aged two and seventy, was finally stepping away from the living and the parish. The vicarage would be Jacob’s in June. Mr. Spratt had been an attentive spiritual leader for decades, never even entrusting his parish to a curate. His wife had passed two years previous, leaving the old man alone with a handful of servants to look after him. Ready to retire at last, the vicar planned to move away to live with a grown daughter.

The bright May morning sun hid itself behind clouds, much like his hopes and plans had hidden away behind the shock of losing Hope. She would not be gone forever, but a year was a long time. Especially when he had plans he had hoped to put in motion more immediately.

The living was the Earl of Inglewood’s to give to whom he wished. The church and vicarage stood at the edge of the earl’s property, near the village. When Silas, the current earl and a friend from Jacob’s childhood, learned of his friend’s decision to take orders he had immediately promised him the position.

Once established, Jacob could obtain a respectable situation in society and afford to marry. Which was why Hope’s adventure struck him as horribly ill-timed.

He clenched his hands around the reins and his horse, a spirited creature belonging to his eldest brother, protested with a toss of its head. Forcing his hands to relax and willing the tension from the rest of his body, Jacob attempted to find the equanimity he depended upon.

By the time he arrived home, two miles from the Everlys’ estate, he had managed to stuff most of his emotions back into his heart where they belonged. He had waited this long to tell Hope of his admiration for her; he could wait a little longer.

Perhaps when she returned, her thirst for adventure would be sated at last. Not that he wished for that part of her character to change, but he would have a better chance of securing more than friendly affection if her eyes were not always directed toward the horizon and away from Aldersy.

Jacob left his horse in the stables with the grooms, too agitated to take the time to soothe the animal himself. Notwithstanding his outward calm, his mind had not stopped racing.

Hope, gone for a year. Too far for letters to even reach her regularly.

Inside the house, an airy 18th century construction his father had inherited from an uncle, Jacob went in search of the one person who might be able to calm him.

He passed his eldest brother on the staircase. “Matthew,” he said, “have you seen Mother?”

“In the music room,” Matthew answered without stopping in his descent, hat tucked beneath his arm and gloves in his hand. Perhaps he was going to pay a call on the lady he had been courting. Jacob shook his head, wondering how his brother had waited until the age of thirty-two to begin looking in earnest for a bride.

Turning around, Jacob went down the stairs to the music room, ignoring his brother’s departure from the house. The music room was at the rear of the house, facing eastward, where there was a fair prospect of a dip in the land, full of long grasses and sheep. A few miles further than the eye could reach stretched the North Sea.

The gentle strains of a melody seeped through the door, his mother’s talent with the harp easy to appreciate. For a moment, Jacob stood there, allowing the rich notes to wrap around him in a familiar and comforting embrace. His mother played a bright tune, reminding him of flowers and fairies more than the storm clouds gathering outside.