A Practical Partnership. Lily George
Three
Nan glanced over at her young helpers, Abigail and Mercy. The two girls had been with the sisters’ millinery shop for some time now, and they were both quick and eager workers. Despite their nimble fingers and helpful ways, they never grew any closer to Nan than after they’d started. Nan stifled a sigh. It would be a relief to unburden herself to them—to tell them both about the previous night, and how John’s challenge was taken as a proposal of marriage by Susannah and Becky.
Her cheeks burned at the memory of her sisters leaping up, embracing her and telling her how happy she would be. John’s excessive apologies afterward cleared up the mess but somehow also made her feel like even more of an old maid than she was. He had just been offering her a job, not asking for her hand in marriage. His tone of voice, echoing in her ears, grated on her last nerve. Nan clenched her teeth and tightened her hold on the bonnet brim she was trimming. The sudden pressure made the brim snap.
Abigail and Mercy gasped in unison, staring over at Nan with round eyes.
She couldn’t blame them. She’d never spoiled anything she’d worked on, ever. A mistake cost the shop money, and she would never lose money if she could help it. Nan gave them both a taut smile, but it was hardly a welcoming and calming expression, she was sure. She needed to get out of the shop. If she stayed, she’d start pacing—her pet habit when agitated. If she started pacing, then Abigail and Mercy would know something was wrong.
“Better go out for a while—need to get bread for dinner,” she said, but her nerves were so frayed that the words tumbled out in an unintelligible rush. She left the shop in a swirl of skirts, banging the door shut behind her.
Now what should she do?
If she headed farther into the village, she’d be tempted to go spy on the French milliner. If she applied reason and logic to the situation, she would know that there was no good that would come of staring at the poor woman. Yet, she was not the kind of girl who could find comfort by rambling for hours over the moors, as her sister Becky did. So, should she go into the village? Or roam the fields? Neither choice was particularly appealing.
Tansley Village was so awfully small. Funny, she hadn’t really noticed the village’s closeness until just now. If you had to go somewhere for privacy, where was there to go?
There was no place to go. For once, she craved the anonymity of a city street so that she could lose herself among the bustling crowd. Someplace like London, where she could merely fade into the background and be alone with her thoughts.
Father, help me. Help me move past all this. If only God could blot out the memory of her humiliation, and remove the sting. If only it had never happened.
Instead, she directed her feet toward the moors. They offered the only sense of solitude she could find in Tansley, and she needed some time alone to think.
The crisp autumn breeze rustled her skirts, and she tugged her bonnet off, letting it dangle down her back by its ribbons. If she was Becky, she would also loosen her braids and let her hair tumble its full length, just touching the small of her back. But then, it would take forever to coax the tangles back out so she could wind her locks into their coronet of braids.
She might follow in her sister’s footsteps as far as walking out on the moor, but she would only take her imitation so far.
John’s words echoed through her mind.
Offer.
Change her life.
Accept.
No wonder everyone thought he’d been proposing marriage. She scowled and scuffed at a rock with the toe of her boot. “Handsome men are such fools,” she breathed aloud, finally daring to say the hot words that had been bubbling under the surface since the ridiculous scene last night. “What was he thinking? He wasn’t thinking at all.” Typical. Disheartening and a stark reminder of the characteristics of all handsome men. She’d been allowing herself to soften toward John until his preposterous turn of phrase humiliated her before her family and brought sharp, painful reminders of her impending spinsterhood into bold relief.
A movement caught the corner of her eye. Someone else was walking out on the moor. Nan paused, anxiety rising in her chest. She really had no wish to socialize with anyone right now. Perhaps it was just a local villager, whom she could pass with a brief nod and hello.
She peered closer. A lithe young woman with dark hair was climbing the steep hillside. It was Jane. Last night she had begun observing Jane’s movements and gestures as a way to understand how best to dress her. A woman couldn’t be properly attired unless her dressmaker made a thorough study of how she moved. Unfortunately, so few dressmakers took the time for such minute details. This young woman, with the uncertain way she moved and her hesitant steps, could be no one but Jane.
Nan raised her hand in greeting. Even if she thoroughly disliked John, at least she liked his sister.
“Nan! Hello!” Jane’s voice carried over the moor. “Wait for me.”
Nan nodded and stood still so Jane could come closer. She bore Jane no ill will, despite John’s stupidity. She seemed a genuinely sweet person—a little like Becky, if Becky wasn’t so dreamy and romantic.
“Oh, I am so glad to find you,” Jane panted when she got within speaking distance. “I was hoping to today. I thought for certain you would be in the shop.”
“I just came out here for a few moments, on my way to the bakery.” Guilt gave Nan a twinge. She was, after all, supposed to be working on a bonnet—or at the very least, a sketch—for Jane. She was not supposed to be moping about just because some thoughtless young buck hurt her feelings.
“Well, I wanted to stop and ask if you had considered my brother’s offer. Not, of course, the offer everyone thought he was making.” Jane’s cheeks flooded with color and she seized Nan’s arm. “I am so very sorry about that,” she whispered. “Sometimes I think John has the manners of a pig.”
“Oh, I’ve met some swine who could school your brother in etiquette,” Nan replied drily.
Jane’s eyes grew sadder and she shook her head. “I can’t think of what to say. Let me beg your forgiveness, once more, on his behalf.”
Nan gave Jane a halfhearted smile. No need for her to continue apologizing, when it wasn’t her fault. John had said he was sorry, and made such an uproar, that she really didn’t want to hear any more on the matter. In fact, she would stop brooding about it altogether, starting now. There was no need to be so missish, for it was a simple mistake, after all.
“I was only teasing.” Nan shrugged off Jane’s hold. “It was nothing, I assure you.”
“Oh, good,” Jane breathed, her pretty face relaxing. “So, will you consider John’s idea? Will you come with us, and act as my personal seamstress? I won’t feel half so scared if you are there helping me.”
“I hadn’t really thought of his proposal in detail.” Now that John had offered her more than she’d ever hoped for, she didn’t know what to do. It had been far easier to focus on her hurt feelings than on the hope of financial security. “I don’t know how I would manage with the shop.”
“My brother would, I am certain, help with that,” Jane offered. She smiled tentatively. “Of course, I can understand why you wouldn’t want to leave. For one thing, with your own store, you have new things to do every day, and new people to talk to. If you were just designing clothes for me, you would be stuck with me, boring as I am.” She gave a halfhearted laugh that tugged at Nan’s heartstrings.
“Believe me, my career is much less exciting than you imagine.” Nan sighed. “Women out here have a tendency to order the same thing over and over. So I have developed ways to make it more interesting. I found a method to weave straw so it’s stronger. My bonnets hold up very well against Tansley weather. But that’s something I had to come to, not the other way around.”
“I can well understand that,” Jane agreed.