Forever Phoebe by Chalon Linton
Chapter 13
“I was not about to let her walk home in the downpour without an escort,” Geoffrey said. “Her father would call me out.”
Phoebe stood over him as he sat on the sofa, ignoring her other brothers, who still played at chess. Her hands were on her hips, and her temper sparked. “You did not need to escort her anywhere. She was warm and safe and dry with Mrs. Hughes. Her father would have come for her, as he originally planned, once the rain stopped.”
Geoffrey looked at the windowpane. A steady drizzle still tapped on the glass. He raised his eyebrows at his sister.
Phoebe huffed. “Or . . . Mr. Vane could have sent his own carriage.”
“There was no need when ours was available. When Miss Vane told me you’d left in such hast, I assumed you were safely home and determined I would convey her to Greendale.” Geoffrey reached forward and lifted Phoebe’s hand into his own. He tugged her gently until she sat beside him. “Why are you flustered?”
Peter coughed dramatically into his hand, then said just loud enough to hear, “Because you’re breaking the pact.”
“True,” Abraham said. He moved his queen. “Check,” he said triumphantly.
Peter swiftly captured Abraham’s queen with his bishop. “Checkmate.” He stood from the table and moved to the chair across from Phoebe and Geoffrey. Abraham remained at the table, a frown on his face while he sat staring at the board.
“This has nothing to do with the pact,” Geoffrey said. “I gave Miss Vane a ride in our carriage because it was raining and there is a dangerous man on the loose preying on innocent young ladies.”
“But you also asked her to dance at the Assembly Rooms,” Phoebe said.
Peter pointed a finger at Geoffrey and nodded agreement.
Abraham sauntered over from the game table and stood near Peter’s chair. Geoffrey still held Phoebe’s hand. He raised it between them. “To ensure Everly would ask Phoebe.”
“But did you enjoy dancing with her?” Abraham asked.
Geoffrey dropped Phoebe’s hand. He placed his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands with a moan. He scrubbed his hands through his hair and then sat back up. “It was a dance.”
“And a carriage ride masked as an act of chivalry,” Phoebe said.
“And you still have not answered the question.” Peter crossed his arms over his chest and crossed his legs as well.
“Miss Vane was a competent dancer, the carriage ride conveyed her home, and I rather enjoyed her company on both occasions,” Geoffrey said.
“Did you make her laugh?” Abraham asked.
Geoffrey cocked his head and considered the question. He nodded. “Yes, I believe I did.”
Peter looked over his shoulder at Abraham. “He can be quite witty when he puts his mind to it.”
“Charming as well,” Abraham said.
“Geoffrey!” Phoebe cried. “Were you witty and charming?”
“I was nothing more than myself,” Geoffrey said.
Phoebe laid her hand over her brother’s. “That is my greatest fear.”
***
A footman from Greendale stood sentinel under a cluster of ash trees while Phoebe and Hannah walked large circles in the shade the tree provided.
“Mr. Everly asked me to pass along his gratitude for our part in interviewing the maids of all work. He’s anxious to begin restoring Ravencrest.” Phoebe had told Hannah about her detour to the estate during the rainstorm.
“It is a marvelous estate.” Hannah touched Phoebe’s arm. “Though, it cannot compare to Primly Park.”
“The borders of Primly Park are extensive, but Ravencrest sits atop a rise, and the view is unparalleled.” Phoebe bent down, picked up a leaf, and began twirling it in her fingers.
“Mother has agreed to order me a new gown for Lady Granby’s ball. I should like a flowing skirt and maybe a flounce or two.” Hannah skipped a few steps and then spun around. “Do you think blue or pink would suit me best?” She pressed her hands together and laid her fingers against her right cheek. Then she batted her eyes and smiled wide, making Phoebe laugh.
“You have your blue silk. A new gown in pink would be divine,” Phoebe said.
“Then, pink it is.” Hannah grabbed Phoebe’s hands, and they twirled together in the shade until they were both laughing boisterously.
After sharing tea and cake on the lawn, Phoebe took her leave. She was pleased to know Hannah was not in a ruffle over Geoffrey and his attention; indeed, she had not even mentioned his name. Phoebe had worried for her friend and felt no remorse for the scolding she had given her brother.
Her abigail sat across from her in the carriage, and a footman sat with the coachman atop the box. “Do you plan to have a gown made for Lady Granby’s ball?” Miriam asked after Phoebe had shared the details of her visit with Miss Vane.
“I had not thought on it,” Phoebe said. Her mother would have insisted on a new gown, and her father would have encouraged it. Perhaps she should make the request of Geoffrey.
Phoebe and Miriam talked of fashion and had concocted a rather farcical dress, complete with wide sleeves, an embroidered bodice, and eight flounces capped with large bows trimmed in lace. The image had them both laughing as they pulled onto the lane that led to Primly Park.
A horseman approached, calling for the driver to stop. Phoebe moved to the glass and peeked out. Mr. Mason sat atop his black horse. He tipped his hat and climbed down to open the carriage door.
“Miss Jamison, pardon my interruption. I’ve come to call upon Peter.” Mr. Mason looked dashing in his buckskin breeches and dark-brown boots.
“We’ve just come from Greendale,” Phoebe said.
Mr. Mason squinted as he glanced at the bright sky. “Would you care to walk with me the remainder of the way?” he asked.
A jolt of excitement shot through Phoebe’s core. “That sounds lovely.” Mr. Mason held his horse’s reins, and with the opposite hand, he assisted Phoebe from the carriage. The estate was in view, so Phoebe instructed Miriam to continue with the driver to Primly Park. She grinned as the carriage rambled away.
“One could not ask for better weather,” Phoebe said. She spoke true. Clouds floated through the sky as if on a lazy river, a vast contrast from the storm a few days prior. When the sunbeams fell too heavy, a gentle breeze tugged them along.
“Indeed,” Mr. Mason said. “How does Miss Vane fare?”
“She is well.” Phoebe walked beside Mr. Mason while he led his horse. “She has ordered a new gown for Lady Granby’s ball.”
“Ah, where Mr. Everly has claimed your supper dance,” Mr. Mason said.
Phoebe smiled. Could it be Mr. Mason was jealous? Would he ask for her hand in another dance? Possibly the waltz? Hannah had shared a rumor that Lady Granby had added the waltz to the set list.
They walked near the side of the road in the shade of the ash and pine trees. Phoebe’s heart skipped in cadence with the shadows dancing in the sunlight around her feet. Walking with Mr. Mason, at his request, was a dream she’d oft entertained.
“I confess,” he said, “I do not condone the purchase of a new gown. It is only a ball. In fact, the same Summer Solstice gathering Lady Granby hosts every year, where she serves the same food, displays the same decor, and plays the same tired dances.” His horse dipped its head to nibble on the wild grass near the road. Mr. Mason pulled the reins and moved the horse forward before the animal could claim a bite. “I hope you are not considering such an expense. Geoffrey would certainly acquiesce. He cannot resist when you blink prettily. One of your old gowns will suit well enough.” He spoke as if he were her brother or her intended, yet he was neither.
Phoebe’s excitement withered in an instant. “Should I not want to look my best?” she asked.
Mr. Mason shrugged. “A man who is attracted to you on account of your gown is not the sort of gentleman you should associate with.”
“Precisely!” Phoebe snapped. “A true gentleman would also consider my character and my intellect. He would engage in discourse about more than the weather and my shortcomings. And if I should like to wear a dress that also happens to be flattering, then I see no harm in doing so.”
Mr. Mason offered a belittling laugh. “With your youth, I suppose it is understandable you would see it that way. Gentlemen rarely consider such things as intellect. They require only an even-tempered partner. I suppose I am not surprised. Your lack of judgment became apparent when you befriended Mr. Pole.”
Phoebe’s ire sparked. “Mr. Pole was a widower grieving the loss of his wife. He needed a friend, and as everyone else in Halsham erroneously blamed him for his wife’s death, there was little other choice.” Phoebe marched in step with Mr. Mason. “I spoke to him one time at the Blue Goose to inquire after his children and offer my condolences. Then you tattled to Geoffrey that I intended to seduce the man.” She had thought she’d forgiven Mr. Mason for misrepresenting her to her brother, but his reminder of the incident made her anger stir anew. Why had he invited her to walk with him? Did he only mean to chastise her? Gone was the levity Phoebe had felt only minutes before.
“I had only your interest at heart, Miss Jamison,” Mr. Mason said as they neared the house. A groom ran out to collect Mr. Mason’s horse.
Phoebe did not wait for him to hand over the reins. “Good day, Mr. Mason. I shall ask Windly to inform Peter of your arrival.” Anger and frustration sped her heartbeat. She ascended the front steps with haste and conveyed the message to the butler.
“Miss Jamison,” Windly called to her back. Phoebe turned around with a huff. “A parcel was delivered for you. It’s been taken to your chamber.”
Phoebe nodded and hustled up the stairs before Mr. Mason appeared in the entryway. She pulled the gloves from her hands as she stepped into her room, and tossed them onto her desk. On the bed she found a dress box tied neatly with brown cord. A card was tucked under the knot. She sat on her white quilt and removed the card.
Miss Jamison,
You wore a gown this shade the other day, and the color was most pleasing. While it is not the green of your previous riding habit, I hope it will be to your liking.
Sincerely,
F. Everly
Phoebe set the card aside and pulled one end of the cord to untie the bow. The string fell to the side, and she lifted the lid with glee. “Oh,” Phoebe whispered. She ran her hand over the rust-colored fabric. The color was nearly identical to the gown in her wardrobe. The camlet combination of silk and wool tickled her fingers. Brass buttons ran from the wide lapels down to the hemline of the jacket. Phoebe pulled the garment from the box and stood in front of the mirror. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and began to button the jacket over her day dress. While the green habit had brought out the color in her eyes, Phoebe liked the color Mr. Everly had chosen. Most women wore green or blue, and the rust color made a subtle statement of differentiation.
A light knock sounded on the door, and Miriam entered with a dressing gown over her arm. “Pardon me, miss. I thought you were out.” Miriam then noticed the jacket. “Is that from Mr. Everly?”
“How did you know?” Phoebe turned her shoulders in the mirror and admired the view from a different angle. She extended her arms, noting the intricate stitching around the cuffs.
Miriam grinned. “Mrs. Gladstone stopped by the other day. Asked me for your measurements. I refused to give them until she explained what had happened to your riding habit. After she explained, I returned her borrowed gown to her, and she promised your habit would be replaced.” She hung the garment she held in the bureau and then walked a circle around Phoebe. “It is very fine.”
Phoebe agreed. It was a lovely gift, one that flattered her figure and made her feel pretty. Perhaps Mr. Mason was correct. Perhaps she was a poor judge of character, for she’d once thought him to be a perfect gentleman. But as she handed Miriam the new jacket, Phoebe concluded that good looks were not all that mattered. A sense of right, an open mind, and the ability to laugh were qualities she admired. They also happened to be qualities Mr. Franklin Everly possessed.