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It was a sunny Sunday afternoon, so luncheon was being set up in the gardens rather than in the ballroom, as had been the original plan. Rebecca was looking forward to being outside where there would be room for all of her nieces and nephews to play and frolic together. It wasn’t often that several of her siblings were at Alderwood together now that their families had grown, so today was going to be a treat for everyone.
Their married sister, Martha, and her family lived in Nottingham, a full day’s travel to Alderwood, so they weren’t able to visit as frequently as Rebecca wished. But even without their being present, it boded to be an enjoyable afternoon.
Except for Ben.
Rebecca wasn’t quite sure how to go about helping him feel welcome after what Thomas and Lucas had said to him at supper Wednesday evening. How utterly mortifying it was that they had asked him outright what his intentions were toward her! And then he’d left Alderwood after telling her brothers he hadnointentions toward her, nor did he ever think he would remarry.
It had been four days now, and Rebecca still got the urge to cover her face with her hands in mortification every time she thought about it.
She stood, balancing on one foot on the dayroom balcony, her elbows propped on the balustrade with her crutches leaning against it, her chin propped in her hands, and watched the servants setting up buffet tables and spreading out blankets on the garden lawns. In the background, she faintly heard the mantel clock in the parlor behind her chime the hour, which meant church services had concluded and everyone would be home shortly.
She wondered if she could feign some sort of deadly illness that had struck her since they had all left for church. She sighed. It wouldn’t work, and she knew it. There were too many accomplished actors in the family, and Rebecca wasn’t one of them.
It wasn’t long before Rebecca spied seven-year-old Edmund and eight-year-old Isaac, his father’s namesake, running outside into the garden, laughing and calling to each other, and, shortly thereafter, Rebecca’s sister-in-law Clara calling out, “Isaac! I won’t have you spoiling your Sunday best playing with your cousin. Come inside and change your clothes. Edmund, I imagine your mama would be telling you the same thing. Inside now, boys!”
“Yes, Mama,” Isaac said, looking glum. He turned and headed back to the house.
“Very well, Auntie Clara,” Edmund said. He tossed a stick he’d already discovered to the ground and followed Isaac back into the house.
The time was at hand. The families were here, which meant Ben would be arriving shortly.
Rebecca wished she could simply stay here on the balcony, invisible, and watch everyone from the safety of isolation. She could observe her brothers and sisters as they conversed with Ben, she could observe Ben’s demeanor with them, and she would not find herself in the middle of any of it.
Her heart yearned for Ben more than she wished it did.
He had told Thomas he would never marry.
He was a neighbor, and that was all. A neighbor on congenial terms, which was precisely what they had hoped for when Mr. Arnold had passed away.
Rebecca had told herself those awful truths over and over this morning in anticipation of the terrible afternoon that was now at hand. She dearly wished she didn’t care for Ben as much as she was finding herself doing. What a mess she’d fallen into when she’d broken her ankle.
The french door behind her opened. “Here you are!” Lavinia said. “Annie said she thought she saw you up here, and she was obviously correct. Are you hungry? Ready for luncheon?” There was concern in her eyes despite her cheery words.
Rebecca tried to match Lavinia’s tone. “Famished,” she said.
Lavinia laid her arm around Rebecca’s shoulders. “That’s the spirit,” she said. “And the others and I are prepared to keep things lively and, more to the point, keep you from feeling any undue awkwardness regarding Lord Winton. He is a charming gentleman, is he not? Exceedingly handsome too. And his attention to you after your injury has been nothing short of saintly.” She paused. “It would be difficult not to hold him in high esteem,” she added in a low voice.
“Yes,” Rebecca replied honestly. She left it at that.
Lavinia nodded her understanding. “’Tis as I thought.” She gave Rebecca a squeeze. “Well, the Jennings family pulls together when it comes to one of its own, does it not? It is something I have learnt in the short time I have had the privilege of calling myself by that name. Take heart . . . and try not to fret, my dear sister. The children have prepared a little drama for you, in addition to the games they have already begged their papas into playing with them. And Delia and Artie will undoubtedly perform along with the children since they have refused to behave like actual adults their entire lives.”
Rebecca chuckled a bit, for it was entirely true.
“There, that’s better,” Lavinia said. “I have made you smile at last. Shall we?” She took up the crutches and handed them to Rebecca, then opened the french doors. “An afternoon of excellent food and family frivolity awaits!” She gestured with a flourish at the open doors leading back into the house.
Lavinia’s words had helped, but Rebecca couldn’t entirely rid herself of her doubts. How was she to behave around Ben? What was she to say to him?
Whatwasthere to say? Nothing, she decided. There was nothing for it but to be polite to him, as she would be to any other guest at Alderwood. And she must keep herself at a distance, for her own sake.
There it was, then. She’d been fretting about nothing. That was what she continued telling herself as she and Lavinia made their way to the courtyard in the back of the house and the gardens beyond.
But she still fought the urge to cover her face with her hands. Thank goodness for her crutches, which kept her from doing precisely that.
* * *
Ben rapped the door knocker at Alderwood and was startled when the door was immediately opened by a rather young girl with curly blonde locks and wearing a pink frock, who was interrupted by another, older-sounding girl behind her before she’d even opened her mouth to speak.
“No, Annabel,” the older girl said. “You are too little to greet guests yet. You must allow me to do it.” She opened the door wide. “How do you do, sir?” the older girl, who wasn’t really all that old herself, asked as she curtsied politely to him and then moved out of the way, nudging the other girl to do the same so Ben could enter. She was as blonde as the younger girl was, and Ben presumed by their looks and the older girl’s natural affinity to bossiness that they were most likely sisters.
