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Chapter One
Inverley, 1813
Caroline Reeve hadn’t been born with a head for figures. She felt the pain of it every time she sat down with the household ledger and tried to justify a joint of beef for dinner instead of another night of pigeon pie.
She thumbed open the thick book, her temples aching when she saw last week’s tally of what she owed to the grocer. It was difficult to economize in a family of six, and finding new ways to squeeze their savings was an endless task. What little money Papa had left them seemed to slip through her grasp faster than a fistful of sand.
She blew out a sigh and picked up her pen with the gravity of a judge. It was never any use to run away from the facts. Will had spilled ink all over his Sunday trousers, doubtlessly during an argument with George. Now she needed to find enough coin for new inkandnew clothes or she could never show her face in front of the vicar again. Reverend Thomson was good enough to tutor her brothers without charging for the lessons, and she couldn’t bear to have them showing up to church full of stains after all his help.
Giggles and the clicking of shoes announced the presence of her two sisters before they bounced into the room. Betsy was tall and slender with a mass of brown curls framing her cheeks, and Susan was short with dark blond hair that she was fond of arranging into intricate braids. The pair of them were inclined to model their looks after naughty milkmaids, hiking their skirts as high as they couldmanage without appearing completely brazen, and tugging low the linen fichus tucked into their bodices.
“Caro, darling Caro! We are going out,” Betsy announced, tying her straw bonnet beneath her chin with a bright purple ribbon that Caroline couldn’t recall paying for. She hoped it hadn’t been begged from a suitor. Her pride was hanging by a shred among the shopkeepers, and she couldn’t bear it if they thought her sisters shameless on top of it all.
Susan peered over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose. “Figuresagain, Caro? Do you not ever do anything fun anymore?”
Caroline tugged one of her braids. “Not unless we wish to live on scraps of butter spread on crumbs of bread.”
Susan sighed and moved away. “You worry too much. Everything’s all right these days. The Reeve family is doing fine.”
Because I take care of it all. But Caroline bit back the words. “Heading to the shore, are you?”
“Totown, of course. Town is ever so much more interesting than the boring old sea.”
Betsy fluffed her curls and she and Susan dissolved into giggles again.
Once visitors started to arrive from London for the summer, their attitude would change, and Caroline would hear nothing from dawn to dusk but rapturous praise for the endless diversions of the seaside.
“Stay out of trouble,” she told them. “And be home in time for dinner.”
They groused and rolled their eyes, then clattered their way to the front door.
Caroline looked down at the ledger again and bit her lip. Surely the household account could spare something for the girls? They were full of mischief, but still carefree enough to wish for nothing more than to spend their last ha’penny on lemon drops or a new lace trim for their skirts. Harmless enough pleasures.
Her heart clutched as she remembered Betsy’s pale face and thin cheeks, her forehead burning up with fever, and she made up her mind. If she could bargain parsnips from a neighbor in exchange for doing their laundry, then she could lessen their bill from the grocer.
“Wait!”
Caroline went to the door and pressed a farthing into each of their palms. Her temples ached anew as her ears filled with shrieks of sisterly gratitude, and she found herself smothered in kisses.
“You are the best of sisters, Caro! Never doubt it!”
“Mind you don’t spend it unwisely.”
“Caro Lamb would be more understanding of our situation,” Betsy called out as they left.
“Well, Caro Lamb isn’t your sister. Caro Reeve is, and she says tobehave like a lady!”
The door slammed shut before she finished admonishing them, but it was nothing that they hadn’t heard from her before.
Betsy was the second eldest Reeve at twenty-three, and Susan was but a scant fourteen months behind her. Either of them ought to be helping more with the accounts and the household chores. But it didn’t matter how old her siblings were. Caroline would always be the eldest, and she couldn’t bring herself to burden her family with the responsibilities that were her duty to shoulder as best she could.
After all, she had made a promise.
She slumped over the ledger and tried not to be envious of a trip to town that she didn’t even want. She wasn’t young enough to be distracted from her problems by ribbons, and she had never been interested in making eyes at the local lads. If only her sisters weren’t determined to make up for her own lack of interest by making sure they were twice as outrageous as any of the other young ladies in Inverley.
She strained her ears for sounds of her other siblings. It was reassuring to hear nothing but low-pitched chatter from the back garden, which meant that their maid-of-all-work, Maisie, was still outside with George and Will. They would be occupied for a while yet. Jacob was God knew where, but should be working. She wished it wasn’t such an uncertain hope. The shopkeeper he worked for had dropped hints in her ears more than once that he could always find another lad if Jacob wasn’t interested in coming in every day.
A half hour and a page of scrawled numbers later, Caroline pushed the ledger away. It was midafternoon on Wednesday, after all, which was her favorite time of the week.
