An Inconvenient Engagement Read online

  There was a moment of silence. “I am sorry, Mrs. Wetherby, but that is not possible,” stated the reverend.

  “What do you mean? There is room, I know. Jamie measured it only yesterday.”

  The reverend cleared his throat and said in a loud whisper, “Your daughter cannot be buried in the churchyard. Surely you see that!”

  “I do not see that! Why should that be?” she demanded.

  “My dear madam, consider! She has taken her own life! She cannot be buried in consecrated ground. Best to choose a pleasant spot on the farm for her resting place.”

  “I want her buried next to her father! With all her kin in the churchyard!”

  “I am sorry. I cannot allow that.” Reverend Bart was firm.

  Mrs. Weatherby broke down again. After a moment, the reverend rose and said, “Well, I will leave you to grieve. Please call upon us if we can help.”

  Eliza looked up from comforting her aunt and caught William’s eye. He gave a slight nod and stood up, took his leave, and followed the reverend out. He let the reverend outstrip him until he saw the man disappear into the church, proper. He followed, waited as two women came up carrying armloads of straw and a basket of apples to string for the altar. He waited while the reverend spoke to them, then waited until he had disappeared through the side door. Then, he followed.

  He found the parson in his own little study, apparently preparing to work on a sermon. Reverend Bart looked up as he entered and laid down the pen he had just picked up. He stood. “Sir William, how can I help you?”

  “Sad business, this, with the Wetherby girl.”

  Rev. Bart looked down. “Indeed. One wonders if they that commit such acts understand how it will affect those they love.”

  “In this case, surely there is equal blame to be laid at the door of the man who compromised her so?”

  “I would agree – but our laws do not reach him, and it was ultimately her choice to end her life.”

  “Given the circumstances, and the tremendous grief of the family, surely the Church could allow them the small comfort of knowing she lies with her family.”

  “I am sorry – Dr. Welles has determined her death to be a suicide. She cannot be buried in hallowed ground. She chose to take her own life, after committing an egregious sin, and as such cannot be committed within the churchyard.”

  William held his gaze for a moment, just as the reverend was about to look away, he said, “She can, if you decide she can. We both know this is not an official doctrine of the Church.”

  Reverend Bart cleared his throat, hemming and hawing. “In my position, I feel it best to uphold the sanctity of the church. We bury Christians of good standing…”

  “Who determines ‘good standing?’” William broke in. “This girl was misled by one who held a superior place in society, who should have been in a position of protection for those beneath him. Instead, she was betrayed and is now being betrayed by her own church as well! Her family, sunk in grief and likely to never recover completely and now to be separated from the comfort a decent burial could give them. You are responsible to the people of this parish, as well as the cold ground of the churchyard. Show this family some compassion, and let this girl be buried with her family.”

  William’s intense gaze bored into Reverend Bart’s rheumy eyes. Reverend Bart looked away first. “It would have to be an evening burial with no rites. But she can be buried with her kin.”

  “Will you inform them immediately?”

  “If it must be immediate, then no. I have work here.”

  “Then allow me to inform them, so that they may have this little comfort sooner than later.”

  “As you wish.” He was waved off.

  Knowing he had succeeded as far as he was able, he thanked him and left. Stepping quickly through the church he retraced his steps to Little Cottage and knocked. It was Eliza who answered, and when she saw his face, she stepped back and let him in.

  “Mrs. Wetherby,” he waited until he had her attention. “After reconsidering, Reverend Bart has agreed to allow your daughter to be buried in the family plot. We can bury her this evening, but with no church rites. I am sorry. It was the best that could be agreed upon.”

  “Oh Sir!” she covered her face. “Oh, thank you. Thank you.” He waited only long enough to catch Eliza’s eye and drink in the look she gave him before leaving them.

  Evening came, and the time allotted for Alice’s burial. Jamie was there, as was Gower and Henry Rivers with Sir William. Together, they lifted her coffin and bore it to the pit that had been dug only that afternoon. They lowered her into it, and then Jamie looked at Sir William and asked, “Sir, could you say a prayer?”

  William cleared his throat and did his best, though he felt remarkably rusty at praying aloud. They each scattered a handful of dirt upon the coffin before standing back to allow the diggers their turn to finish burying her. One by one the men turned and left. Jamie and Gower were the last, and William left them to their final grief.

  He made his way to Little Cottage. William stepped up the two steps and pulled the bell. The door was opened by a portly, matronly woman in dark blue whose eyes widened at the sight of him so late at night. “Excuse me, I just wanted a word with Miss Denham.” Too late, he realized he should have asked for her uncle.

  “Yes, Sir. Won’t you come in, sir.” Bessie stepped back so he could enter into the front sitting room where he stood, waiting.

  Footsteps could be heard overhead, and he looked up to see Eliza coming down the stairs. She paused at the sight of him, then finished walking slowly down.

  “Sir William.”

  “Miss Denham.” He reached for her with hands that still bore traces of the dirt sprinkled on Alice’s coffin, and she looked up into his face. There were careworn signs of his efforts on behalf of her family there, and she felt overwhelmed with gratitude.

  “It is done. She is to be laid to rest with her family in the churchyard.”

  At that, she broke into tears and pulled her hands away to cover her face. Without thinking, he pulled her close and encircled her with his arms while she sobbed against him. Hearing the noise, Bessie trotted back toward the room, then stopped at the sight of her mistress in the arms of the baronet. She backed away, unseen, but unsure. He had worked tirelessly on behalf of the family, but this grief was all because of a gentleman overstepping the bounds with a cousin to her mistress. She was still prevaricating when she heard Eliza sniffle, and sounds of Sir William hunting through his pocket.

  “Here, allow me,” and she peeked around the corner to see him dab her face with his handkerchief. Eliza took it and finished the job, then made to hand it back, only to have him shake his head. Bessie could see her clinging to the bit of cloth like a lifeline and cleared her throat.

  They broke apart, and Eliza raised her face to his and said, “Thank you, Sir, for all you have done for my family.”

  “If I have done anything to bring you some comfort, then I am content.”

  “No one could have done more. If there is any comfort to be had for myself or my family in this, it has come from you.”

  Still they lingered, each facing the other, scant inches separating them. Finally, he cleared his throat and straightened. “Well, Miss Denham, I shall take my leave.”

  She curtseyed, and he bowed over her hand, then left. She stood at the window long after he had gone, staring at the point in the road where he had disappeared.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Eliza stood looking down at the small mound where her cousin lay. A stone had appeared at the head of the grave, and rumors were that Sir William had commissioned it. It was simple, but the name was inscribed with delicate lettering. Eliza placed her handful of flowers in front of it and said goodbye.

  She wandered along, her cloak buffeting in the breeze. She felt restless, and there was a yearning inside her. Perhaps it was because she had not seen Sir William in the weeks since the inquest and burial. Their kiss was never far fro
m her memory, try as she might to forget. She knew with a certainty that no kiss could ever erase it, and that perhaps it was time to start looking for work. At least it would give her mind some employment other than remembering and wishing, and it would reaffirm that some wishes simply can’t come true. There would be the added benefit of removing her from Lytchley and all its reminders.

  With that last thought, she started composing advertisements in her head. She went into Little Cottage, into Uncle’s study and sat down at his desk. There, she penned a short note that could be inserted into the newspaper. She folded it and carried it to the post office. She watched as it was taken and placed with the pile of letters going on to Stanton and turned to go home. She would tell no one, not until she had a position. No one.

  Once home again, she removed her cloak and wrapped a warm shawl about her shoulders. She had been working on Gower’s fleece for some time, carding every chance she got and spinning what was carded. Ben had healed completely and was back to racing and darting expertly among the sheep at Gower’s command. She often saw him as the sheep were brought by. So far, she had three large hanks of yarn hanging in the herb room. Several more would join them. She did not know what they would become, but for now it was good just to have something to do and keep busy with. A shadow crossed her as she worked and she looked up.

  “Miss Eliza, I was told I would find you here.” Penelope wove her way amongst the oddments found in the carriage house to where Eliza had been sitting. The broken barrow held the bulk of Gower’s fleece, with tufts and wisps fluttering about on the ground with little puffs of breeze from outside. A handful lay clinging to one of the carder combs Eliza had been dressing.

  “Miss Pratt! What do you do here? Here,” She stood and set the combs down on the seat, then removed her apron and laid it over the chair. “Let us go inside and visit.”

  Once seated in the parlor, with tea on the way, Penelope began, “Miss Denham…”

  “Eliza.”

  Penelope smiled. “Eliza, then. I am returning to my father’s house in London within a few days and was hoping that you might join me.”

  Eliza sat in shock! London…her? “Oh, it would be an honor. But clothes!”

  “Oh, do not make yourself uncomfortable about that. There will be no balls, or anything. Father is very strict, and I doubt we will do much more than walk in Vauxhall Gardens or visit the British Museum.”

  Eliza’s heart leapt. “Oh! I would like that above all things!”

  Penelope laughed, then, a delightful silvery tinkling. “Then that is settled.”

  “What is settled?” Uncle appeared at the archway into the parlor.

  “Miss Pratt has invited me to go to London with her.”

  “What! For how long?” Uncle’s eyes had widened in shock.

  Penelope answered, “It can be but two weeks, for then I must come back and get ready to go to my brother’s house in Somerset.”

  Uncle smiled and turned to Eliza. “Well, then, I suppose you need to get packed. I will have Bessie look out a box for you.”

  “Oh yes, thank you, Uncle!” She turned to Penelope and said, “Please, you must help me choose which gowns to take.”

  “I will be happy to.” The girls went upstairs where Eliza quickly pulled out every gown and laid them out on the bed.

  “You see what a small number I have.”

  “But you have found ways to change them with these two spencers and that overdress.”

  “They take so much less fabric, and as you say can change the look of a dress, however simple they may be.”

  “Yes, but all so tastefully made. Oh! And look at these sleeves!” She picked up the knitted silk sleeves. “You have such an even hand and elegant eye.” She fingered the ruffle of one chemisette. “Now, do not take this amiss, but you have a knack of making much from very little.”

  Eliza patted her favorite gown, the peach with black sprigs. “It is as well that I do! Whatever I get must go as far as it possibly can. I was lucky in my teacher - my aunt taught me to sew, Alice’s mother. It was always a contention between Alice and me. While I enjoyed sewing and handwork and was grateful for the attention, she was jealous.” Eliza’s expression saddened.

  Penelope reached over and touched her arm. “Well, let us go and enjoy ourselves away from Lytchley for a short time, yes?”

  Eliza smiled. “Oh yes!”

  Four days later the Loughton’s carriage (at Henrietta’s insistence) arrived at Little Cottage, and Eliza stepped into it while her trunk was loaded on. Penelope and her aunt by marriage, Mrs. Ainsworth, were within.

  “Oh, I am so glad you are joining me!” Mrs. Ainsworth seemed a pleasant woman of little conversation and all too used to having little to do as Penelope’s chaperone, prone as she was to staying with the Loughtons. She seemed ready to drop off to sleep as soon as the carriage reached the road.

  The journey would take two days, and they would overnight in Northampton where they would change to the carriage sent by Penelope’s father. The road was busy, and now and then a carriage or coach would pass them, and they enjoyed looking for arms and heralds on the doors and trying to see inside or guess at the occupants. The first half of their journey was very merry, Eliza reveling in the sheer pleasure of travelling with a friend.

  They stopped for a break at a small town where the horses were to be tended to and the girls gratefully got out.

  “Miss Pratt, the carriage will be ready in twenty minutes.” The driver informed them.

  “Thank you, Smith. We will be ready as well.”

  “It feels lovely to stretch, though, and walk,” Eliza remarked as she breathed in the fresh air.

  “Oh, I know. I am always so excited for a journey, but then so ready for it to end!”

  “I have had too few, except when going to and from school.”

  “You were very long at school this last time, were you not?”

  “Yes. My uncle was happy to have me stay on as parlor boarder, then stay with my friend for a while. I think he was hopeful of her elder brother. But that gentleman was hopeful of a Miss Vogel and her ten thousand pounds!”

  Penelope laughed. “I can well believe it. How hard it is, for us.”

  “Not you, surely. I am sure you have a good dowry.”

  “Yes, about eight thousand. Not like Henrietta and her twenty-five thousand, though.” She looked off at the market scene not too far from them. “Eight thousand seems a good sum. Enough that it won’t put off most men who truly loved me, but not enough to tempt a man to love where he would not otherwise.” She looked sideways at Eliza and smiled. Then the two broke down and giggled.

  “You are right! But a man would have to be wildly in love to marry me. And even then…I am a fool if I do not accept that there would be many hindrances.”

  Their laughter died. A moment later and they were called to board, and the journey continued. They were much more subdued as the carriage progressed, and by the time they reached the inn at Northampton, both were extremely road weary and ready for their supper and a bed.

  The room had a small fire and a double bed they would share to conserve space and warmth. Within moments, they were both curled up and asleep. It wasn’t until morning light filtered once again through the small window that they woke and hurriedly dressed for another day of travel. By the time they were finished with breakfast, the Pratt carriage had been announced.

  They reached London late in the day. Eliza had never been to that great city and had expected something more like Bath. The difference was immense. Bath contained, orderly, bright with its white limestone buildings and vivid colors in the peoples’ dress, was vastly different to London which was so dark and chaotic. Buildings covered with black grime and streets just as dismal. She stared avidly out the window at the variety of carriages, gigs, cabs, people, and horses everywhere. The colors were disappointingly drab, and she mentioned it to Penelope.

  “It is so dirty in town, that most people wear dark clothes
when out in the street. When we walk in the gardens, or go to the museum, you will see a very different London!”

  They arrived at the Pratt townhome and disembarked gratefully. Aloysius Pratt, Esquire, lived in a modestly affluent section of London near Vauxhall Gardens. The house was in a quiet sidestreet, and the girls stepped down into a very tidy front and climbed the stairs to enter the three-story townhome.

  Penelope sighed deeply as she unbuttoned her pelisse and removed her gloves. She untied her bonnet and eased it off her head. “Oh, goodness, it will be good to take my hair down!”

  Eliza twisted slightly. “I look forward to that and getting out of this corset! Thank goodness I did not wear the busk!”

  Penelope was handing her pelisse to the servant. “I have never used one.”

  “With a figure like yours, no wonder! So slender!”

  “Mmm. It has its drawbacks.” She inquired after tea and then led the way upstairs. She stopped at the second room on the left and opened the door. “This is your room. I hope you don’t mind, but it is next to mine.” She showed her into an airy room with an embroidered cream counterpane, solid dark furniture, and a large window looking out onto the road. There were framed samplers hanging on the walls, and Eliza smiled in delight.

  “Yes,” said Penelope, “it is called the Sampler Room. My mother wanted to display the handwork of all the Pratt and Hansen ladies, so here they are.”

  “Where is yours?” Penelope pointed rather shyly to one in bright colors hanging to the right of the bed. Eliza moved closer. “But this is very well done!”

  “No, nothing like. You can see how uneven the stitching is just here, and the letters are differently sized. My grandmother was rather harsh in her criticism. Perhaps that is why I do not stitch much anymore.”

  “Well, I have to disagree with your grandmother.”

  “Thank you. My mother was always very warm in her admiration. It was she who chose to put this here. Well! I will leave you to freshen up and rest if you like. Just ring if you want anything. I have had Ellen assigned to you while you are here.”