Chapter Two
I awoke the following morning to find Grayson curled closely beside me. For as long as I could recall, my brother clung to me. He claimed he wished to protect me. However, I always felt he needed protection more than me.
While Joel and I closely resembled Papa, Grayson took his heritage from Mama. His lean, lank body seemed fragile, and his face peaked. He rarely took part in strenuous activities. Instead, he immersed himself in the poetry of Alfred, Lord Tennyson, and Robert Browning. At the moment, he was deeply enthralled with 'Stella' by Lady Charlotte Eliot. I frequently found him sprawled in the pond garden, clasping his volume to his heart and staring into the clouds. Pain and despair etched his face while he considered the tragic verses.
Papa chided Grayson's tender heart, but his compassionate emotions endeared him to me. When nightmares evaded his dreams, he crawled into my bed and sought innocent comfort. I hugged him close throughout the night, and he clung to me.
Miss Young thought it most peculiar that we—brother and sister—should share the same bed. She declared it unnatural. Nevertheless, her attempts to halt the activity failed. Gray often found his way into my chamber at night. I awoke with him at my side the morning following Miss Plumb's arrival.
I crawled out of bed without disturbing him. Gray slept soundly with his tousled brown hair falling over his forehead and his softly closed eyes. He pulled into the fetal position, and his arms hugged his curled knees. Leaning over him, I kissed his cheek lightly and crept from the bed silently. I did not wish to disturb my middle brother.
Wrapping my dressing gown around me, I tiptoed into the bathroom for my morning ablutions. Several years ago, Papa updated Everstow Hall to include indoor plumbing in the kitchens and converted the water closets into modern bathrooms. The porcelain sinks and clawfoot tubs delighted Grayson and me. We spent ages studying the new toilets and pulling the flushers until Joel chastised us for wasting water.
Gathering my clothing, I entered Miss Young's room to dress. She was waking up when I appeared. I heaped my lilac-sprigged morning dress, bloomers, petticoat, and camisole onto the bottom of her bed and yanked at my night dress.
"You've forgotten your corset, young lady," the governess chided, rising and surveying my garments. "Go along and fetch it."
"Drat!" I muttered, letting go of my nightgown. It recovered my body from neck to ankles. I hoped she would overlook the missing undergarment. I turned to plead with her. "Why should I wear that dreadful thing? Isn't my waist slim enough?" Spanning my tiny waistline with my palms, I accentuated my form.
"You are sixteen, Priscilla," Miss Young countered hotly. "You are a young lady, and young ladies wear corsets regardless of their figures."
"Drat again," I muttered, retreating and re-entering moments later with the confounded garment. I clung to the bedpost while the governess tightened the strings. Finally, she stopped tugging and tied them firmly. I continued to dress and sat while Miss Young braided and coiled my long chestnut hair.
"There!" Miss Young exclaimed, satisfied with my appearance. "You are prepared to face the day."
I hurried to the door but stopped when the governess called my name. Halting abruptly, I turned to face her.
"You're becoming too old to sleep with Grayson," Claudia Young stated briskly. "I insist you give up the practice immediately."
"Whatever for?" I demanded hotly. I paused momentarily, then continued, "You have a dirty mind, Miss Young. Gray wouldn't do anything to harm me, particularly what you are thinking. Gray is…well, Gray's different. He doesn't…he just doesn't… that's all." Turning my back on the governess, I swooped from the room haughtily.
Stopping in the hallway, I pressed my back against the wall and considered the differences between my brothers. When Joel reached puberty, he became interested in women. The young maids—noticing his growth spurt—teased and flirted with him relentlessly. Joel enjoyed the new attention tremendously. Often, I would stumble upon him kissing one of the serving girls in an empty bedroom or notice him sneaking one into the hayloft. Papa smiled at him encouragingly and said he was sowing his wild oats.
On the other hand, Grayson collapsed further into himself when he reached adolescence. He shied away from young girls and cringed when one tried to flirt with him. Once, I found him cowering in a wardrobe after Ann Marie playfully tickled him with the feather duster. I suspected he did not like women.
I checked on Gray and found him sound asleep. Instead of waking him, I left him to his dreams and went down to breakfast. Papa sat at the dining table with his coffee and newspaper. I pecked his cheek and served myself from the sideboard. Mrs. Cotton kept the chaffing dishes filled with scrambled eggs, deviled kidneys, and grilled tomatoes. Joel entered with his paramour on his arm as I made my selection.
Miss Plumb hurried toward the sideboard, brushing my arm as she rushed past. Instead of apologizing for jostling the plate I nearly spilled, she emitted a loud 'cooey' sound. Her eyes grew wide with greed, and, grabbing a plate, she heaped it with food. I stared at the massive proportions in astonishment.
"Surely, you will not eat all that," I stated indignantly. I sat at the table, and Miss Plumb plopped across from me. Joel joined her, sitting close enough to touch her shoulder with his.
"Tisn't your business, surely, Missy Prissy," Charlotte countered quickly. Her beady eyes narrowed menacingly. Her face lightened abruptly, and she laughed uproariously. "Missy Prissy. See, Joel, darling," she cackled, sharply prodding him with her elbow. "I made a rhyme. I shall remember that."
"You shall not," I commented dryly. "Grayson is the only one in this house permitted to call me by that name. Let it remain that way only."
Rising, I returned my plate to the sideboard and sauntered toward the door. However, my father called my name when my hand touched the knob. I turned toward him at once.
"Yes, Father?" I calmly asked.
"Escort Miss Plumb to your mother's chamber once she has finished her meal," Papa stated, wiping his mustache with his white napkin. "I wish you to make the introduction."
"Yes, Father," I answered noncommittally.
I hesitated at the door while my brother and Miss Plumb ate breakfast. Lottie stabbed a whole sausage with her fork and offered it to Joel. He bit one end, and she ate from the opposite side. They continued to chew until they met in the middle, and he kissed her. Both laughed uproariously and kissed again.
Papa rustled his newspaper but continued to read. Embarrassment swept over me. Suddenly, I longed to escape. Miss Plumb's uncouth behavior mortified me. I did not wish to introduce her to my frail mother.
The family made every effort possible to pacify Mama. The slightest sound or disturbance threw her into a panic. Frequently, her personal maid had to summon the local doctor to tend to Mama's nervous complaints. As a result, we rarely informed her of bad news and kept her as quiet as possible.
Charlotte would have to understand Mama's delicate condition. Her loud voice and abrupt movements would certainly disconcert the invalid. Perhaps I could speak to her as we made our way to the east wing.
"Hold your horses, ducks," Lottie exclaimed, mistaking my hesitation for impatience. A wad of chewed toast showed when she spoke. Hurriedly, she washed her mouthful down by gulping her coffee. "Give me a minute to digest my food."
Turning her back to me, my brother's paramour refilled her coffee cup casually and buttered another piece of toast. Reclining in her chair, she nibbled at her bread and rubbed against Joel's shoulder. I eyed her suspiciously, realizing she prolonged the delay purposely.
Finally, Charlotte stood. Stooping, she brought her mouth against Joel's and kissed him passionately. Her bodice barely contained her ample bosom. For the first time, I noticed her costume. Her crushed velvet dress clung tightly against her buxom figure, leaving little to the imagination. I winced as she strutted past me, and before exiting the room, she wiggled her derriere at Joel. He made a low catcall in return.
"Perhaps you would like to change before the introduction," I suggested, hoping to modify the sight before Mama glimpsed it.
"Change? Whatever for?" Miss Charlotte practically bellowed. "I've just put this on. Joel purchased it for me, particularly in London. We did stop there before journeying on to this backwater place."
My spine straightened at the word 'backwater.' I clutched my hands into balled fists. Heat flared into my cheeks. Biting my tongue, I forced myself to hold back a tart response.
Purposely, I strode to the end of the corridor and turned onto the east wing. Mama occupied the suite at the end of the hallway. Hesitating momentarily at the door, I sucked in my breath and finally entered. Miss Charlotte swooped past me immediately and approached my mother swiftly. Extending her hand, she shoved it toward my startled mother's face.
"Lottie Plumb," the newcomer blurted loudly.
Charlotte towered above Mama, who lay prone on her divan. My mother's eyes widened, and she shrank against her ample cushions. Her pale face grew slightly lighter, and her bottom lip trembled as she pulled her coverlet to her chin. I knelt beside her and grasped her hand comfortingly.
"Mama, this is Charlotte Plumb," I stated soothingly. "She arrived last night with Joel. She is his fiancée."
"He made me pregnant and promised to marry me," Lottie stated abruptly. "It's only right and proper, Mrs. Ain't that so?"
Mama continued to ogle the newcomer. The news disconcerted her, and she trembled beneath her warm comforter. As though anticipating a terrible situation, Jane Grant bustled into the room with a bottle of smelling salts. Quickly, she administered the bottle beneath Mama's nose.
Dear Jane, I thought, considering my mother's personal servant. She began her role as Mama's nanny at the time of her birth and transitioned into her nurse/companion as the sickly child grew into adulthood. Although still relatively young, Jane's hair had turned grey prematurely, and her complexion became pallid after years of remaining indoors at Mama's side. She never complained and provided comfort to the invalid instinctively.
"If you will keep your voice down," Jane admonished as she massaged Mama's shoulders. "You cannot burst in here like a whirlwind. Lady Everstow requires complete silence at all times."
"Well, begging your pardon," Charlotte exclaimed haughtily. Plunking onto the chaise lounge, she grabbed Mama's thin, frail hands. "When I become your daughter-in-law, we shall develop a strong friendship, Mother." Her abrasive tone changed to that of one speaking to a young child.
Mother, indeed! I gritted my teeth. The nerve of Joel's uncouth paramour alarmed me completely. I intervened hastily.
"Have you breakfasted yet, Mama?" I asked, scanning the room for her tray.
"I was just about to ring for it, Miss Priscilla," Jane stated, wringing her hands in her white apron. "Shall I?"
"Oh yes, indeed," I quipped delightedly. "No one must disturb Mama before breakfast, Miss Plumb. It interrupts her digestion, and we must not interrupt Mama's digestion." I wove my hand through the newcomer's elbow and swiftly drew her from the room.
"Who is that awful woman, Jane?" I heard my mother whimper as I closed the chamber door. "Why was she here?"
"Cooey, I've never seen such a weak lamb," Lottie announced loudly. "Whatever keeps her alive, Prissy?"
"Never you mind," I hissed indignantly. "You leave my Mama alone. She's fragile, and I don't want you disturbing her."
"Well, la-de-da," Charlotte exclaimed hotly. Brushing past me, she stormed along the corridor, her banana-yellow curls bouncing on her shoulders.
I stood rooted to the spot for several minutes before marching upstairs to the schoolroom. I plunked onto the window seat and crossed my arms tightly. I stared out at the gardens petulantly.
"You look quite hot under the collar, sis," Grayson stated, glancing in my direction. He sat at the table with Mr. Blanchard. The Bible lay open before them.
In the autumn, Gray would go up to Oxford to study theology. In time, he would replace Uncle Everett as the vicar of Everstow parish. I dreaded his departure and the extended separation.
"Papa asked me to introduce THAT WOMAN to Mama," I responded, keeping my eyes on the garden pond through the nursery window. "Of all the crude, impolite, forceful creatures, whyever did Joel pick her? I cannot believe…"
"Now, Miss Priscilla," Miss Young cut me off. She entered the room through her connecting bedroom door and glared at me over her half-glasses. "You know better than to criticize other people."
"Yes, Miss Young," I answered demurely. "Still…Joel has some nerve bringing her here."
"She is with child," Grayson stated demurely. His face held a cherubic expression, and he clasped his hands before him. "The Lord has blessed her, and Joel must wed her to make the little bastard legitimate. The new baby may, after all, become the next Sir Joel Everstow."
"Oh, and thanks a lot for that, Grayson," I spit out. I rose swiftly and flounced from the room. In a huff, I rushed into my bedroom. Flopping onto the bed, I curled up in the fetal position.
"Prissy?" My middle brother popped his head into my room.
"I'm sorry, Gray," I sincerely apologized. "I didn't mean to snap at you."
Rarely did I speak abruptly to my sibling. Grayson became so quickly upset by sharp words. Often, he cried at the slightest criticism.
"I understand, Priss," he accepted calmly. "We are all unnerved by this sudden event."
"Unnerved isn't quite the word for it," I answered, reaching out to grasp his hand. "I cannot find a word strong enough to express the situation."
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