The Dutiful Daughter. Jo Ann Brown
and said, “What a party we shall be tonight! When I invited the Fenwicks to join us, I never had any idea our numbers would grow so.” Under her breath she added, “I am sorry. With the uproar today, I forgot I had invited them after church on Sunday.”
“Did you inform Mrs. Porter?” asked Sophia as quietly, not wanting to chide her sister who took every opportunity to invite Vera, her dearest bosom bow, to Meriweather Hall.
Catherine blanched. Sophia knew her sister had not remembered to tell the cook that the Fenwicks would be joining them tonight. Catherine, who was four years younger than Sophia, had no head when it came to details.
“I will tend to it,” Sophia said. With a smile she hoped did not look forced, she raised her voice and added, “The more the merrier.”
When she saw Lord Northbridge’s eyes narrow at her banal answer, she wondered if there was a way to keep her gaze from shifting toward his often. She pretended she had not noticed him looking at her and hurried down the stairs to greet their pastor and his sister. There was no question that the Fenwicks were closely related. Both Mr. Fenwick and his sister Vera were of average height and with open faces that invited one to stop and talk. Mr. Fenwick’s dark hair was thinning on top, but Vera’s was a lush mass of curls pulled back with silver combs. She was dressed in her best gown, a pristine white with pale pink ribbons decorating the modest bodice. Did she hope to make a positive impression on one of Meriweather Hall’s guests?
Sophia scolded herself as Vera laughed at some sally her brother must have said. There was nothing calculating about Vera Fenwick. She was a sweet soul and served the church and its parishioners as wholeheartedly as her brother. Why was Sophia looking for hidden motives where she knew there were none? Simply because she had been overset by her cousin and his unsettling friends was no excuse for being ill-mannered herself, even in her thoughts.
“Good evening, Mr. Fenwick,” Sophia said, offering her hand to the vicar. “And, Vera, you look lovely tonight.”
Vera threw her arms around Sophia and gave her a quick hug. The motion said more than words could.
When Sophia stepped back, the foyer went uncomfortably still. She understood why when she saw Cousin Edmund and Mr. Bradby stop in midstep as she had on the stairs. Her cousin’s gulp when his eyes focused on Mr. Fenwick’s clerical collar echoed through the open space.
Mr. Bradby gave him a clap on the shoulder and kept coming down the steps. The redhead had sought out Sophia earlier to express his apologies. That did not make her any less uncomfortable with him, even though she could not fault the man when he had done no more than speak the truth. But did her cousin believe that she intended to force his hand by inviting the vicar to Meriweather Hall tonight?
“Oh, dear,” said Catherine under her breath. She was clasping and unclasping her hands, a sure sign of her anxiety.
Sophia had to do something, so she smiled up at her cousin. She hoped her expression did not look as bizarre as it felt. “Lord Meriweather, do come down and meet our dear pastor and his sister. Mr. Fenwick and Miss Vera Fenwick have long been regulars at our table. If you want to know anything about Sanctuary Bay, he is the man to ask.”
“Yes, yes,” Cousin Edmund said, continuing toward them. He offered his hand to the vicar. “I look forward to our conversation, Mr. Fenwick.”
“As do I, my lord.”
From behind her, Sophia heard, “Well done, Miss Meriweather. You seem to have set your cousin somewhat at ease.”
She looked back to see Lord Northbridge’s faint smile. “High praise coming from you.”
“Indeed.”
Resisting the urge to laugh, Sophia asked, “Shall we go in to dinner? Cousin Edmund, we are informal here at Meriweather Hall. If you do not mind, I would ask you to follow Catherine while I confirm one matter with Ogden.”
Catherine accepted Mr. Fenwick’s arm while Cousin Edmund offered his to Miss Fenwick. When Mr. Bradby held out his to Lord Northbridge, everyone laughed, his antics shattering the last of the suffocating tension. Mr. Fenwick continued to chuckle as the guests walked in the direction of the dining room, but it was Lord Northbridge’s laugh that echoed lightly within her. It was like his son’s, deep and free. Suddenly there was nothing she wanted more than to hear it again.
Was she mad? Mr. Bradby had been unable to look her in the eye when he spoke his apology, and she had no idea what he thought about her and Lord Northbridge talking alone. He could not have seen her hand on the earl’s arm or Lord Northbridge’s fingers reaching out to her. Even so, she needed to take care that she was never found in such a possibly compromising position again.
Sophia waited until they were out of earshot and then spoke quickly with the butler. She saw questions in his eyes. As much as she appreciated his concern about how she was dealing with the changes in Meriweather Hall, to speak of such matters would be inappropriate.
“Ogden, please let Mrs. Porter know that the Fenwicks have joined us for dinner.”
He nodded. “I will alert the footmen who are serving, too.”
“Thank you.” She was glad she could depend on the household staff to make food prepared for five serve seven without any of the guests suspecting they were being offered more vegetables with their meat than had originally been planned. The soup course would pose no problem because Mrs. Porter always made extra, and the meringue for their dessert could be cut into smaller slices.
Sophia hurried after the others to the opulent dining room. Thick rafters wove across the ceiling, and magnificent paintings of bucolic scenes were laced among them. The murals on the walls were of the moors, not far to the west. Ruined buildings and tiny villages were painted among the wild, rolling hills. Two chandeliers hung above the black walnut table that would seat twenty. Rainbows danced on the walls as the crystal prisms caught the candlelight.
Everything was perfect, except...
Sophia realized everyone else had taken their seats. Cousin Edmund sat at the head of the table, a place that was rightly his as the latest in a long line of barons. Her sister was to the left of their cousin and next to Mr. Fenwick. On Lord Northbridge’s right, Mr. Bradby talked with Vera.
A groan rushed up from deep within Sophia when she realized the only empty place was between her cousin and Lord Northbridge. There were other vacant chairs farther along the table, but to choose one of those would be a blatant insult to both men. It was very cozy...and a reminder that she should be making every effort to become better acquainted with her cousin.
The men rose when Sophia neared the table, and she gestured for them to retake their seats. As she sat between Lord Northbridge and her cousin, she waited for someone to speak, but the conversation that had been animated when she entered the room seemed dead. Footmen served the white consommé with quiet efficiency. They stepped away from the table, and the room became silent again.
Catherine shot Sophia a desperate look, and Sophia asked, “Mr. Fenwick, would you say grace?”
“Of course.” He bowed his head over his folded hands, and they all did the same. “Lord, we give thanks for this company and this food. We ask for Your grace upon both. Amen.”
After they repeated his amen, everyone started to speak at once, clearly worried that the silence would return and smother them.
Lord Northbridge picked up his soup spoon and began a conversation with Mr. Fenwick. Initially Sophia thought he was using the vicar in an effort to avoid her. After what had happened by the window, he probably thought saying nothing to her was the wisest course. He might be right. As a once-married man, he would know more about such matters than she did.
“I am pleased Meriweather Hall has such a skilled cook,” Cousin Edmund said.
“Mrs. Porter never disappoints,” Sophia replied, turning to speak with her cousin.
He said nothing more, giving her short answers when she asked his opinion of the house and his journey north. She wondered