A Practical Arrangement (6 page)

“
Father?”

“
Oh, Evangeline! Take some good advice. Never love a man.” Opal grabbed her, digging her fingers into her slim arms.

Evangeline raised frightened eyes, her body stock still at the familiar bite of bruised flesh.

“
You ought to be afraid,” Opal warned quietly, “A husband's words are cruel; his hands are worse.”

“
Father hurts you?” Evangeline whispered, horrified at the words she heard, at the shattered safety of her young world.

“
That is what husbands do, Evangeline.”

The memory haunted her; the event changed her, shaped her irrevocably. Pulling herself back to the present, Evangeline straightened. The words from beyond her room blunted, no longer sharp and cutting, her mother's cries softer. Never had she witnessed her father harm her mother in any way. He'd always been gentle with her and Melody. Yet she harbored fear just the same. Too often she'd felt the sting of her mother's words, the ache left from her harsh hands, seen the bluish marks on her arms after being reminded how cruel her father was.

All were hidden inside her heart and beneath her sleeves. Being held in any manner conjured the helpless sensation of those memories. Even within the tender arms of her sister, Evangeline cringed, awaiting the blessed freedom of release to quell her discomfort. She could never be a good wife, could never endure a husband handling her as her mother did. No. He'd do far worse to her. She shivered. Unclenching her hands and drawing a steady breath, Evangeline Grey reprimanded herself.

No good would come of pitying herself or wishing things to be different. Each passing week brought near the inevitable. To choose a husband was for the beautiful and flirtatious. Her father would, in the end, choose for her. The thought was both comforting and dread inspiring. She'd have to make the best of it. Secret hope stowed, hopes of amiable companionship and distant politeness, Evangeline called for Corinne to help her ready for bed.

* * *

Evangeline rubbed her hands together, December's icy chill invading triumphantly, forcing out autumn in favor of winter. Bare branches glistened with frosty sparkle under the bright, deceptive sunlight. Wriggling her toes in her shoes, she combated the stinging prickle as heat warmed frozen digits.

“
Come near the fire. Hurry and warm yourselves,” Mrs. Francine Davis urged. “It's a crisp afternoon for certain.”

“
Thank you,” Evangeline chattered, her stuttered shivers easing in front of the massive fireplace.

“
You are most welcome, Miss Grey.”

Francine Davis, a portly woman with straw colored hair and soft brown eyes helped to unwrap the frozen young women, handing their heavy shawls to a maid, who carted them away.

“
Please warm them for when they depart,” she instructed, the maid bobbing her head in understanding. “Take a few moments, please,” she invited, returning her attention to Evangeline and Melody. “We're in no rush.”

Another lady arrived, sending Mrs. Davis off at once in welcome. Mrs. Preston sat in the parlor, a rose hued room, pretty and serene. In addition, Mrs. Verla Rhodes and her daughter rested on the diminutive settee, the poor furniture piece surely groaning under the former's bulk. Mrs. Davis, daughter Fiona in tow, and the jovial Mrs. Townsend re-entered the parlor, the good natured Francine shooing them toward the blazing hearth as a hen routs her chicks.

“
The fire will warm your blood in no time!” Mrs. Davis assured. “Tea will be served shortly.”

Melody and Evangeline found their places in side-by-side, pink velvet chairs, Evangeline stroking the soft material before folding her hands in her lap. Well aware coveting a grave sin, she could not help but think she would have chairs exactly like these should she ever have the opportunity. It was admiring, she informed the censuring voice in her heart. Only admiring.

“
Who has completed a project?” Mrs. Davis questioned.

All hands offered a bundle except for Augusta Preston, who was slower in her stitches; however, none balked because she turned out wonderfully crafted pieces.

“
It is only fair we choose a special recipient for Mrs. Preston's shawl, ladies. At our next meeting we will nominate and select the lucky woman,” Mrs. Davis announced.

Augusta had the decency to smile prettily at the compliment.

“
It should be a grown woman, a hard worker who would never gain something so fine,” Evangeline offered. “I don't think it should go to a younger daughter as it would be more honoring to a mother.”

The women all agreed, Evangeline's sensitive observation appreciated.

“
Well, I won't see the Turner woman have it,” Verla Rhodes huffed. “An insolent woman she is. Thinks too highly of herself as it is.”

As much as it pained her to agree with anything Mrs. Rhodes said, Evangeline had to concede the point. She did not do so aloud on principle.

“
We've twenty days remaining. Can everyone finish in time? My Fiona has finished both her shawls and would be glad to offer aid where needed.”

Fiona smiled. “I do not mind at all,” she offered shyly.

“
Perhaps if you have some scraps left over from other projects you could make an infant's blanket,” Evangeline suggested. “The newest addition will arrive over winter in the Braedon home.”

Fiona beamed. “I'm sure I can find enough to do that! May I look through your odds and ends too, Mother?”

“
Of course! What an excellent idea,” Mrs. Davis agreed heartily. “Soon enough I hope to have such an occasion to make one myself.”

All eyes turned to her.

“
Our son has offered for Miss Katherine Dorrence, and she has accepted!”

Congratulations resounded in the parlor. Having business on their Christmas project settled, the ladies ventured into talk of the upcoming wedding.

“
Oh! Mrs. Davis! When is the happy event to take place?” Opal inquired.

“
Mrs. Dorrence has not informed me yet, but she hopes for a spring wedding,” Mrs. Davis replied.

“
Spring weddings are lovely,” Opal agreed. “Perhaps I shall have the good fortune to host a spring wedding for my Melody.”

Evangeline cursed the slow heat spreading up her neck and face. Why couldn't her mother allow Mrs. Davis her day without attempting to turn attention to Melody? She glanced at her sister, whose cheeks matched her own. Poor Melody! Evangeline, for all she endured at their mother's hands, did not envy her sister. Melody bore a different burden, but just as awful. At least her own burden was private; Melody's was bare to the eyes of all.

“
That would be lovely, Mrs. Grey,” good natured Mrs. Davis responded with ease. “Is there a gentleman paying attentions?”

“
Mr. Jonathan Lane was quite taken with my Melody when he visited with Mr. Masterson. They have already made arrangements to visit us again just before Christmas.”

Evangeline refused the frown that threatened. She'd not give Mrs. Rhodes the satisfaction. Instead, she affixed her gaze on Melody, commiserating silently in a flash. Her sister surprised her then, her tone too eager.

“
When?” Melody breathed excitedly. “Why did you not tell me?”

“
And she, as you can see, is equally impressed with Mr. Lane,” Opal continued knowingly.

“
Did you say Mr. Masterson?” Augusta inquired, her sharp blue eyes alive with interest. “Pray tell, Mrs. Grey, when was this?”

“
A few weeks past, Mrs. Preston.”

Opal Grey chatted on unaware, Evangeline noted with dismay, of the undisguised scrutiny of Mrs. Rhodes' keen stare.

Oh, Mother! Please stop talking!

But barring an act of nature – or the hand of Providence – Evangeline braced for what would, no doubt, go on.

“
Are you well acquainted with Mr. Masterson, Mrs. Preston?” Opal paused her explanations to ask.

“
Quite,” the woman replied slyly. “Mr. Preston had a number of business dealings with that gentleman.”

“
I see. Well, you must know what a polite young man Mr. Masterson is. Very good natured. And quite wealthy. He has much to recommend him.”

Mrs. Rhodes scoffed. “That man is a
scoundrel
, Mrs. Grey. His reputation alone should bid you warning to protect your daughters.”

“
Mrs. Rhodes,” Francine Davis tempered, “Mrs. Grey would never welcome any person she deemed a danger into her home. Do not be insulting.”

Verla turned her full-jowled face to Mrs. Davis, disapproval spread across its width generously. “Don't be hasty to dismiss me, Mrs. Davis. Mr. Masterson would compromise any young woman in his path given the opportunity.”

“
Surely you exaggerate, Mrs. Rhodes,” Mrs. Davis sputtered.

“
Mr. Masterson behaved a gentleman in my home. His aunt and uncle are dear, dear friends of ours. I cannot tolerate any more malicious gossip against them or their nephew.”

The atmosphere hung tense and thick in the Davis parlor, all awaiting some
thing
to alleviate the awkward moment and restore balance.

“
Melody's sweetness and Evangeline's good sense will ward off any ill intent, and we all know the Platte family's good name and respect.” Olivia Castille spoke up before the moment could spoil the afternoon with lasting effect, soothing the ruffled feathers of both parties in a single breath, Evangeline admired.

Tea arrived, the fragrant brew lulling the group as easy chitchat consumed the hour. As they wrapped in the warmed shawls and tucked the roasted potatoes into their pockets to keep warm on the carriage rides home, Mrs. Davis blustered about.

“
Now remember, Mrs. Grey, we will all meet at your home on the morning of Christmas Eve, dear, before loading up and delivering the garments to Reverend Oakley. He will distribute the garments after the children's sermon.”

“
Very good, then, Mrs. Davis.”

“
Good day, Evangeline, Melody.” Mrs. Davis remained, waving, Fiona beside her until the last carriage pulled away.

Evangeline and Melody retired to their rooms to rest before dinner upon arriving home, Evangeline ordering a hot bath on the way upstairs.

“
Please be careful, Melody,” Evangeline cautioned. “Verla Rhodes will be eager to
spread any tidbit about you and Mr. Lane.”

“
Don't over react. Besides, I am happy Mr. Lane is returning. I hope to become much better acquainted with him.”

Evangeline stared at her sister, disbelief forcing her jaw to clench tightly.

“
And do not look at me like that, Evangeline. Heaven's sake! I'm a woman, a widow.”

“
But, Melody, Mr. Lane likely behaves as his close friend, Mr. Masterson.” Her voice was tight, strained with concern.

Melody sighed, a sad, knowing smile on her lips. “Don't fret so. Please. I know you don't understand, but...but it is natural for a woman to desire a man intimately.”

“
Say no more.”

A knock on the door spared her further discomfort.

“
Your bath, Miss Grey,” Corinne announced.

“
Come in.”

“
I shall see you at dinner, Evangeline. And, please, do not worry.”

Melody slipped out, a few moments later Corinne followed, leaving Evangeline alone with her thoughts. Normally, these were cherished minutes of solitude, but in light of recent events she found no peace even within the heated bathwater. Melody's infatuation filled her middle with a sense of impending danger, and her father's ultimatum weighed heavily in her thoughts. Mr. Lane was to return. She would be vigilant in protecting her sister, both from Mr. Lane and from her own folly.

Bread and butter!

She'd also be left to entertain the too forward Mr. Masterson.

Chapter Four

Determined to help her sister see the inherent danger in pursuing Jonathan Lane, Evangeline knocked on her sister's door.

“
Melody, may I come in?”

The door opened a crack. “Oh, it's you,” Melody breathed. “Come on! Hurry up!” Immediately, she shut the door tight, locking the latch.

“
What's all this about?” Evangeline demanded, realizing her tone mimicked her sister's, hushed and tight.

“
I received a letter,” Melody confessed, dragging Evangeline across the powder blue area carpet.

“
From whom?” Evangeline cast a dark glance at her sister.

“
From Jonathan.”

“
Does Mother know?”

“
She knows I received a letter, but she doesn't know its contents. It's going to stay that way! And do not give me that pinched face of yours, either,” Melody declared adamantly, grabbing the letter from underneath her pillow. “It's scandalous,” she giggled. “Not that a letter is scandalous, mind you...but what he wrote. Here! Read it.”

“
I will do no such thing, Melody Grey Brentwood,” Evangeline informed in her reserved-for-the-most-serious-refusals-tone. “This is trouble and you know it.”

Melody only laughed. “I'm no fool, despite what you think. I know exactly what I'm doing. Mr. Lane and I are going to get to know one another quite well, indeed! And before you
say another word, hear me out. Mr. Lane will either be a passing diversion from the boredom of the country or will become my new husband. Time shall tell which.”