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“I could never think ill of you, Miss Stapleton,” he murmured.
She blushed and shook her head slightly. “I should speak to Cook—”
“Yes, go,” her grandfather commanded. “Go, for I have far more to say to this young man here.”
She cast him an uncertain glance, then, lips curving wryly, nodded and escaped.
He longed to turn to watch her exit, to see if she’d spare him another glance, but he kept his focus on the old man seated opposite.
“Sir, I must beg—”
“You can do your begging later. Right now, you can sit and listen to what I have to say.”
He obeyed. And heard the general utter the most strange, surprising things.
His heart kicked. Yes, there was indeed a way forward after all.
The very act of maintaining her composure while her heart felt so brittle was wearying to the core. Her bones ached, her limbs grew stiff and sore, as if an escalation in movement would break her. For a moment yesterday she’d dared hope—
Then it had come crashing down.
When his gaze had rested on her, when he’d stroked her hand, she’d fancied she saw tenderness, something reiterated in words. But nothing more had been said, and at the services today he’d barely looked at her, let alone exchanged warm glances.
The absence of his regard, this lack of reassurance, made it impossible to know his thoughts, leaving her with a sense of uncertainty, like a feather on the breeze. And with nothing to pin her hopes to, she was privy to the merciless swooping of those in the village who took exception to the deception they felt the inhabitants of Stapleton Court had played on the village.
Thank heavens for Mr. Crouch’s sensitivity in the sermon today, his encouragement to trust God despite challenging circumstances like a lifeline to her soul.Faith is believing for the future, pressing on, not shrinking back.His words were true. She could trust God with her future, even one that loomed empty with Becky and the captain leaving tomorrow. Theo had prayed about it through tears last night, had submitted her hopes and dreams to God, as she desperately clung to God’s promise to never fail her. But sometimes living in faith and finding contentment felt like battles demanding courage worthy of a certain brave soldier. Especially in the knowledge of what tomorrow’s departure would mean. And in the face of the glinting eyes and murmurs that now surrounded the Stapleton party’s exit from the church.
Mama, at least, seemed unaware, although—Theo frowned, eyeing her carefully—the quiver in her hand was new. She moved swiftly to her side, placed Mama’s hand upon her arm, and rested her hand atop. “Here you are, Mama.”
Her mother’s expression held a plea, which drew a surge of protectiveness and a gentle pat.
“Ah. Miss Stapleton.” Mrs. Cleever’s eyes were hard, like polished marble. “I suppose this was just more of your funning?”
“Forgive me, ma’am. Of what circumstance do you speak?”
“Don’t play the innocent with me. You must know I refer to the scandalous decision to hide Captain Balfour at Stapleton Court.”
“Do you refer to the decision to keep the presence of Captain Balfour a secret to allow time for him to grieve the passing of his sister, or do you refer to the decision—made in consultation with the doctor—to provide a room for the captain to recover while his leg was needing time to mend?”
“I, er, the former, I suppose.”
“At such a sad time, I imagine he really appreciated having a space where he could spend time with what little family he has left. Regarding the latter, I believe he was thankful for the opportunity to rest and not have to struggle with stairs or incompetent servants and the like. Stapleton Court also proved to be effective at keeping away unwanted visitors.”
In the echo of Theo’s words, she realized how Mrs. Cleever would most likely take offense, given that invitations to her had never been in plentiful supply. Theo hadn’t meant to say it quite like that.
“Yes. You have done a wonderful job at keeping him to yourself, haven’t you?”
“I am unsure what you mean.” Those were the polite words to say. She had every understanding about what the barbed words meant, but perhaps Theo had misjudged her, and Mrs. Cleever would be reluctant to own her less-than-charitable thoughts.
“Simply that it is not at all the done thing for a young gentleman to stay in the house where a woman of marriageable age resides.”
Or perhaps not. Theo bit back a smile. Apparently her first assumption had been correct.
Mrs. Cleever wore a puzzled frown. “I do not see anything about this situation that is amusing.”
“Oh, madam, not amusing. Simply a little diverting.”
“What is?”
