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“Never speak of this again.” His words were clipped. What if Theodosia were to walk by and overhear? “I am sure Miss Stapleton would be mortified if she knew her affairs were being spoken over in this way.”
Becky’s gaze lowered. “I am sorry for upsetting you.”
“I am not upset, lass. But I believe such conversation would upset Miss Stapleton were she to learn we had spoken about her, so let’s speak nothing more of it.”
“Yes, Uncle,” she whispered, cheeks pink.
Regret pressed inside. Perhaps he’d spoken too baldly. She was his young niece, not a recruit on the battlefield. He worked to soften his tone. “Now, enough of the doldrums. Tell me if there is something you wish for your birthday. Apparently, a pony or a doll will not do. Is there something else you prefer?”
He managed to inveigle her into owning she had seen the most delightful material in the haberdashery store. Mrs. Stapleton had promised to help her make a pretty evening dress, “should her health permit,” Becky quoted. After a moment’s pause, her shoulders lifted. “She has really seemed so much brighter in recent weeks. More than before. Mama used to say Mrs. Stapleton often fancied herself ill, which meant poor Theo had to spend so much of her time caring for her. But repeating such a thing could be considered uncharitable, and it would be best not to say it, wouldn’t it?”
He inclined his head, glad for her awareness, and that it appeared she was no longer out of charity with him. She was a funny, taking thing.
She thanked him again for his permission for a small dinner on her birthday. Indeed, she looked as though she might wish to hug him when he gave his blessing for the fabric to be purchased, an errand he’d trust to the Stapleton ladies, and one in which he’d ensure they were reimbursed. She did not hug him, though, simply curtsying with a broad grin, and making her excuses that she must take her leave and tell Miss Stapleton she had permission for both the dinner and the gown. “If we can purchase it in the next day or so, it might even be ready for my birthday dinner!”
The encounter, following that of the letter, provided much food for thought. For once, he was almost glad to have the chance to lie in rest and quietude. Was that really the reason Miss Stapleton had not wed? Had she been unsought these many years because the gentlemen of her acquaintance could not see her admirable qualities beyond a mark on her skin? His own looks were oft considered to be less than fine, and it was the glamour of his perceived heroism that endowed him with supposed handsomeness. But witness the reactions of those who knew him not, those people like the Bellinghams, who did not see anyone but an ordinary man. It was hard to believe people were so shallow, but time and again life had proved that to be the case.
Thank God that He did not regard men and women so. Thank God that He could see past skin and into people’s hearts. What a blessing to know that his looks mattered not, nor his “heroic” actions. His relationship with God was based on what God had done, not what people might regard as important or good.
Daniel’s lips twisted. It amused him when people assumed goodness of those who were beautiful. But did it naturally have to presuppose that, just because someone did not hold the same elements of beauty, they were not still worthy of noble qualities?
His thoughts turned to an overheard conversation about the tinkers, one of whom had tried to visit in recent days and sell his wares. The way Mr. Siddons had carried on, one would think the poor man carried the plague simply because he was so unfortunate as to possess a swarthy complexion and an ancestry that had not been inscribed for generations in the ledgers of the local village church. People were so quick to judge, so quick to dismiss and ignore.
Back to the question Becky had posed, and his summary dismissal of it. No, he was not so blind with prejudice—neither was he so committed to his career—that he’d dismiss matrimony out of hand. It was simply that he lacked provision and could see no way of supporting a wife or family.
That was all.
Chapter 15
Theo studied herself critically in the looking glass. The colored mark stretching across her cheek wasn’t as noticeable as some she’d heard about. Dear Clara had once told her about one of the princesses who had fallen in love with a man whose birthmark stretched across his face and over an eye. Her face wasn’t nearly as marred. But the overheard words of the captain—and silly, foolish Becky—had made her leave her task of pruning rosehips from below his window and hasten to a mirror to inspect what others could see, and what she’d long thought she’d grown reconciled to.
The pale pink-purple stain looked like spilled wine, stretching from her lip, along her nose, and up into the corner of her left eye. If she stood a certain way, with the light coming in from the window, some days it seemed to not exist. Other days it seemed most prominent indeed. She’d heard comments throughout her life and had been unable to ignore the way visitors to their village and church would glance at her, eyes widening, then quickly look away, almost as if they were afraid her stain would mar them too. She had soon learned to differentiate between those who judged—literally skin deep—and those who saw past her imperfections, as God did. Thank goodness for those who did not think, as some of the more superstitious folk did, that her birthmark and hair color resulted from a witch’s curse.
Her eyes lowered as she remembered other words she had been called. The fact the captain now knew some of them stung. She didn’t blame him for quickly ending the conversation, though the knowledge he pitied her carved a new hollowness in her heart.
Poor misguided Becky. How Theo would face her or the captain, she did not yet know. But face them—she wrinkled her nose at her reflection—she would. Vanity had never been a problem for her, and she wouldn’t let pride stop her from doing what ought to be done. Even if it meant she was now self-conscious, whereas before she had seen no reason to mind.
“Theodosia?”
At her mother’s call, she descended the stairs to see Becky excitedly sharing with Mama about the captain’s approval for the birthday treat.
“Oh, isn’t it exciting?” Becky said, eyes like cloudless skies.
Theo wouldn’t begrudge her. Not when this was the most exhilarated she had seen Becky in weeks. “Very exciting. This shall be on two Thursdays from now?”
“If it’s suitable, then yes, I’d love to celebrate on the actual day of my birthday.”
“Then we shall mark the occasion.” Birthdays were not usually grand occasions, unless one was a king or queen. But with this being Becky’s first as an orphan, and in these trying years betwixt child and woman, then anything Theo could do to alleviate the ordeal, she would do. The first name day without a mother would be hard, no matter how old one would be. “Have you thought which friends you might wish to come?”
Lydia and Patricia were suggested as guests, and Theo encouraged Becky to write the invitations. “Heaven forbid the society of this place should mean you forgo their company, if they don’t hear immediately. We cannot have them accept an invitation to a ball instead.”
Becky grinned.
Theo’s heart panged. How sad it was that Clara could not be here to see her only child grow into such beauty.
“And apparently we are to make up a new gown.” Mama’s eyes brightened with delight. Her mother always reveled in employing her dressmaking skills.
“Yes! I forgot to mention to you. Uncle said he would be very glad to purchase the material we saw at the haberdashery the other day.” Becky clapped her hands.
