Carving for Miss Coventry by Deborah M. Hathaway
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Marianne did her best not to take that walk to the library. She wandered outside for a moment, ate a morsel of breakfast, even tried stopping by Beatrice’s room, but there was no answer to her knock.
Eventually, she gave up on telling her feet what to do, and they led her straight to Mr. Steele, where she hesitated outside of the door.
They had both somehow gotten away with their adventure the day before. Should she really be risking it all by speaking with him?
She peered around the doorway as she had weeks ago upon his first arrival. He carved the edge of the bookshelf, unaware—as far as she could tell—of her presence. His sleeves were rolled up and his waistcoat removed, the braces he wore rising from the center of his back to fork into two, the thick bands accentuating the breadth of his shoulders.
His muscles rolled as he worked, the grooves of his powerful arms pulsing with each tap of the mallet he hit against the chisel. Pulling the tool back, he slid his fingers down the furrows then blew against the wood to remove the excess shavings still clinging to it.
His work was mesmerizing. But was that any surprise when she was captivated by everything he did?
Unable to keep from speaking with him any longer, she fully entered the room.
His face brightened when he found her. “Good morning, Miss Coventry.”
His jovial tone and smiling eyes pressed upon her chest.
He must have seen her weak smile, for his disappeared, and he lowered his tools to face her. “Have we been discovered?”
“No, we have not. Somehow we have managed to escape their notice.”
Relief rushed across his features, further solidifying Marianne’s decision to never reveal the truth about his involvement to her parents.
“Then may I ask what upsets you?” he asked.
She entered the room more fully. “My parents have decided it is time to allow me to enter Society.”
His brow raised, his mouth opening, but no words left his lips. Was he too surprised to speak? His expression shifted from shock to…to what? Uncertainty, disappointment? How she wished she could read his mind.
“That is surprising news,” he finally replied.
That was all he could say? “Indeed. I am to attend my first dinner party this evening.”
He averted his gaze, staring at his carving. “I am pleased for you, Miss Coventry.”
His smile seemed forced like hers did. “Thank you.”
Their eyes met, then she looked away, ignoring the question looming—why were neither of them happy?
“Have matters changed with your sister? Is that why they’ve decided to allow it?”
“Quite the opposite. Beatrice is still adamant, but Father appears to have changed his mind about me. I assume Mother was the one to convince him.”
He nodded in silence, making no move to say more. Marianne wished he would. She needed to know if his thoughts matched her own.
Or perhaps it was better for them both if they didn’t.
She glanced at the carving, noticing for the first time how much he’d completed since she’d been there a little over a week ago.
She wandered closer to the bookshelves, the design resembling the movement of waves rushing inland, ending in swirls of leaves. “You’ve made quite the progress. Father will be pleased with your work.”
“I hope so.” He tipped his head back to eye the top of the shelves. The angles in his neck curved. “There is still much to be done. Not only with the carving but the staining as well.”
She ran her fingers along the smooth grooves. “It is beautiful, Mr. Steele.”
“Thank you,” he responded softly. After a moment, his eyes found hers. “I really am happy for you, Miss Coventry. Now you will be able to live the life you so dreamed.”
She could feel the truth in his words, but there was a level of somberness she could not deny hearing, for it spoke to her own sorrow.
How she longed for the day before, when his eyes had expressed approval of her ball gown. How she longed for the weeks before when she had been free to speak with him for as long as she wished instead of going to the village with Mama, instead of preparing for dinner parties and dances. Instead of going out into Society.
Now she would marry a gentleman Father could be proud of, and Mr. Steele would leave for Bath with enough money to marry a woman whose family could approve of a match with a woodcarver.
How cruel the world was to change her life just as she realized how happy she had been before.