Carving for Miss Coventry by Deborah M. Hathaway

Chapter Twenty-Six

Edward Steele had kissed her hand.

Marianne had lain awake in bed that night, revisiting the moment over and over until she’d fallen asleep, only to awaken at dawn to the very same image bidding her good morning.

She knew not to dwell on Mr. Steele’s affection, nor to place too much meaning onto his lingering kiss, but she could not help herself. Yesterday had been perfection, and it was all because of Mr. Steele.

Before long, she rose from bed, ready to begin her schedule. Then she stopped. What reason had she to follow her routine? She had no unpleasant thoughts from which to distract herself, nor was she seeking busyness. Perhaps a little walk would do her good, though. Somewhere spontaneous. Like the library.

With a veiled smile, she tugged on the bell pull, Jane arriving only moments later.

“You are here already?” she asked as the maid entered the room.

Jane didn’t respond, a wary crease in her brow. “Your father wishes to speak with you, miss, in his study.”

Marianne’s heart dropped, a chill filling her to the core. She had been right the night before. Her family had still been at the ball when she’d arrived home, and she and Jane had fortunately been able to sneak into Daffley without notice. Or at least, so she’d thought. “Does he know?”

“I can’t say for certain, miss. According to Mr. Morley, Mr. Coventry hasn’t been happy of late, this morning included.”

“Did anyone see you last night when you entered?”

“No, miss. My sister covered for the both of us.”

Marianne nodded solemnly. Of course Father knew. Why else would he be calling her to his study when he’d never once done so before? She’d been naïve to think she could do something so reckless without notice. It mattered not how he had discovered the truth. What mattered was the repercussions that would surely follow.

“Worry not, Jane. I will ensure your situation at Daffley does not change, nor that of your sister.” Mr. Steele’s, too.

Jane nodded, though her brow remained wrinkled.

After helping her dress, Jane left the room with a sympathetic grimace, and Marianne followed shortly after, moving as slowly as possible through the corridors toward Father’s study.

She would graciously accept whatever consequences Father deemed fair. But in regard to those who helped her, she would not rest until she was certain they would not be punished for their involvement. She’d never forgive herself if they were, for clearly, no one was at fault for this masquerade but herself.

When she reached his door, she lingered outside for a moment. Could she run away again, this time for good? No, she had made the mistake, and now she needed to pay for it.

With a raised chin, she knocked on the door, entering when Father invited her in. Her eyes focused on his instantly. Jane was right, he wasn’t pleased. His brow furrowed as deep as the divots in the road last night. Mother sat off to the side in a chair by the window, a somber smile on her lips in greeting. No doubt she was bestowing on Marianne the only comfort her daughter would receive that morning.

Marianne approached the desk as if approaching the judgment seat of Heaven, blood rushing from her head and legs trembling. “You wished to speak with me, Father?”

“Yes, we did.” Father glanced at Mama with a deep breath, then he faced Marianne once more.

This was it. This was her end. But it would not be Mr. Steele’s. She would say anything, tell any lie, take any bribery, for that man not to lose his position at Daffley Park.

“Please, take a seat.” Father motioned to the chair before his desk.

Marianne did as she was told, just as she always did. Almost always.

“I’m sure you have already guessed what we wish to discuss with you,” Father said.

She swallowed. “I’ve an idea.”

He nodded, lacing his fingers together and resting his hands atop his desk. “First, I will say, I’ve been deeply hurt by the mistrust that has occurred within our family. Such deceptive behavior, we never thought possible.”

Heat crawled up the back of her neck.

“But, as usual, the trust we have in you is unwavering.”

She blinked. Trust? They trusted her? Was this some sort of trick?

“Therefore,” he continued, “we hope that, even with more freedom, you will still do what is expected of you.” He turned to Mama. “Would you like to tell her, or shall I?”

Mother pressed her lips together, turning to Marianne with a brighter smile. “Marianne, your father and I have decided it is now time to allow you into Society.”

A ringing occurred in Marianne’s ears, and she darted her eyes between her parents. “I don’t understand,” she breathed. “Why?”

Mother and Father shared a wary look before Father spoke. “We’ve been made aware of a few concerning matters in regard to your sister. As such, we believe it is time for you to have your turn in Society.”

Concerning matters? What in heaven’s name did that mean? “Is Beatrice well?”

Father grimaced. “Yes, she is. She…” He hesitated. “She has informed us that she will not be marrying after all.”

The words were not surprising to Marianne. Beatrice had already said as much, had she not? But there was one thing she did not know. “Has she said why she will not?”

Father looked away. “Her reasoning is unimportant. What is important, however, is that we wish for you to have the same opportunity to find a spouse as we so graciously gave Beatrice.”

Marianne could not agree less. Of course Beatrice’s reasoning was important. What on earth could happen to have made her sister so despise the very notion of marrying?

Would that they were still as close as they had once been. Marianne could have helped Beatrice with whatever trial she was clearly suffering through.

“Are you pleased, Marianne?” Mother asked.

Pleased? She really ought to be. To be out in Society, attend dances and parties and socialize whenever she wished—it was a dream come true.

So why did dread accompany her like an overbearing, unwelcome acquaintance?

“You’ve been so patient throughout this whole endeavor, Marianne,” Father said, “and always obedient. We are pleased to finally give you this opportunity. Neither of us ever wanted you to struggle. But we realize that you have. For that, we are sorry.”

This had to be some plan her parents had concocted to see if she would be honest about traveling to Wells. There was no other explanation for it.

Mother stood from her seat and approached her side. “We hope to make it up to you, as well. What would you say to attending the Clark’s dinner party this evening?”

They were in earnest. Her parents truly did not know. They were letting her out in Society—encouraging her to attend a party that very evening? Had this occurred before yesterday, Marianne would have leapt from her seat and embraced them both. Now, guilt strapped her excitement tightly to her conscience.

She had to be honest with them. She could not keep up the charade any longer. She had to tell them what she and Mr. Steele had done.

Mr. Steele.

Her chest stiffened. If she told Mother and Father the truth, Mr. Steele would once more be at risk. Marianne would fight for his innocence, but truly, what power did her word hold when she’d already deceived them so greatly? No, she could not risk the man’s well-being, she could not make him suffer more.

Oh, why had she been so reckless the day before? Why could she not have just waited?

“Marianne, did you hear me?”

Mother’s voice cut through her thoughts. Marianne dragged her attention to the present and nodded. “Yes, I-I am simply thinking through this new state of affairs. Of course, I am delighted.”

Disbelief etched across Mother’s expression, but Father smiled. “We thought you would be surprised.”

“Indeed.” Marianne forced a smile of her own. “Are you certain the Clarks can accommodate for me?”

“I’ve already written them to let them know it will be you instead of Beatrice who shall be attending,” Mother replied.

Marianne pulled back. “Beatrice will not be coming? If it is the matter of having no room, I will gladly remain at home for her to attend.” If only to appease her own conscience.

Her parents exchanged glances again. “No,” Mother responded, “that is not the reason. Beatrice has requested not to attend this evening.”

Marianne frowned. Not only was Beatrice refusing to marry, now she was refusing to attend social gatherings? What in heaven’s name was going on with her?

“You mustn’t worry about your sister, Marianne,” Father said, as if reading her thoughts. “All will be well in future.”

“Yes,” Mother agreed, “and we’ve some tasks to see to before we leave tonight. Would you care to go into the village today and purchase a ribbon or two? Perhaps we could even order a new gown for the Abbott’s approaching ball.”

Marianne’s forced smile fell more and more into a grimace. “That would be lovely, Mama. Thank you.”

“Excellent idea,” Father agreed. “We must have you looking your best for the gentlemen who will be in attendance.”

Marianne had dreamt of this day for so long. To go to a party, to be out in Society, to shop for herself with Mother. But now, they were tainted. Tainted with her dishonesty, with her fear of ruining Mr. Steele, with her concern for Beatrice—and with her worry that she would be taking her sister’s place, her life soon to be devoted only to finding a husband who would please her family.

She should be thrilled. Gloriously ecstatic. She’d always wanted to marry a gentleman.

So then why did she only wish to see Mr. Steele?