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She blew out a breath. The Reeve family had a lot of work ahead of them. And they needed her to take charge, like always.
“We need a plan,” she announced. When no one paid attention, she grabbed a wooden spoon and thwacked it against the table. Silence fell. “Isaid—we need a plan.”
“What kind of plan?” Jacob asked, tilting his chair back and propping his feet on the table.
“Boots off the table,” she snapped. “We need a plan to fit into society.”
Betsy and Susan stared, and then collapsed on the table in peals of laughter. “Yousaying this!” Susan gasped. “Why, it is too funny. You’ve never cared a pin for society.”
It was true.
“Besides, we have a grand new house now! We need noplanwhen we have money, consequence, and rooms a stone’s throw from the sea.”
“Good society is more than a fashionable address,” she said. “Jacob, you ought to speak with Mr. Taylor and ask his opinion of what to do. Perhaps his secretary could help you to understand your responsibilities. You have much to learn about your station, and an estate to run.” She hated to admit it, but Mr. Taylor was his best bet for success.
He frowned. “I don’t know if I need to hobnob with asecretary.”
Caroline ignored his protest. “Boys, I will engage a governess and a tutor for you straightaway. You have plenty to learn before you attend school. Betsy and Susan, I will engage a chaperone for you, or find a sponsor to help us enter Society.”
“A chaperone!” Betsy wailed. “We shall never have a moment’s fun ever again!”
“If you prefer to call her a companion, you may. But someone will have to vouch for your good behavior, or you shallneverenter the assembly rooms, no matter how rich we are.”
Jacob stood up. “I am the head of this family now! It’s my title that protects us all. I don’t know if we need all this fuss and bother, Caro.”
“Iprotect you all,” she snapped. “Do not ever forget that I made a solemn vow to our parents to provide for you and to see you all settled. Your title and our new wealth offer us some shelter, but it is I who must uphold my duty to protect you.”
He stammered, then sat back down.
“Now. Is it clear to everyone? We all need lessons, and training, and guidance, before we can eventhinkof accepting the humblest invitation to tea. We are Reeves. We will pull through this the way we have pulled through everything else—together.”
Caroline looked at the crowd of sulky faces around the table and hoped she was right.
* * *
It was midafternoon and Arabella’s wide straw bonnet kept the worst of the sun from her face. It was a fine day for drawing on the cliffs. She filled her lungs with the fresh sea air, salty and clean. Sunlight glinted off the water like crystal, dazzling her sight if she stared too long at the waves.
She was glad to have an excuse to be out of the house. Her mornings were spent selling paintings from the front parlor, but today Rachel had decided to sit with her while she sewed baby clothes, excited to talk about the upcoming few months and all the arrangements that they would have to make.
The way Matthew and Rachel talked, it seemed like they had decided that Arabella would become a nursemaid and eventually a sort of governess to the child.
She wanted to help her family. Truly, she did. She was willing to help with the marketing and chores and errands after she moved to her own home, and to sit with Rachel when she was feeling overwhelmed, and to help take care of their child. But she didn’t want every day of her whole life to revolve around the baby, and she worried she wouldn’t be strong enough to say no if Matthew asked.
She tried to clear her head. After all, it was a beautiful day, and the rock where she was perched was one of her favorite vantage points.
If she faced east, she saw the sea lapping the shores of the pebbled beach.
North featured the majestic sweep of the widow’s manor house, fanciful and forbidding. Whether her paintings of it sold depended on whether the buyer was interested in gothic spires and spiky iron fences, but the house intrigued people year after year. She always made sure to have fresh paintings of it in her inventory.
South was lush with fields that covered the hills, wildflowers poking their way through weed and underbrush, with narrow walkways carved into the cliffs.
West was the town, with its charming shopfronts and neat rows of houses. If she craned her neck, she could see the townhouse that the Reeves had moved into last week. She had helped them pack up their belongings and had given directions for the wagon coming up the lane as Caroline had been busy hassling Jacob into finishing up his share of the work.
Arabella hadn’t been able to look Caroline in the eye. Not since the kiss.
Her fingers tightened on her pencil.
Byron settled low into the grass, waiting for Arabella to raise the pencil so he could pounce at it. It was how she started most of her drawing sessions, as he was her constant companion no matter where she worked. She darted the pencil back and forth between his paws, careful not to let his claws ruin her paper, and when he had enough of the game, he flopped into the grass and curled up for a nap.
