Time seemed to hold its breath as the westering sun sunk nearer the horizon. All year long, I awaited this solitary moment. I held my breath and gripped the window sill. Leaning forward, I pressed my forehead against the glass pane. Suddenly, a yellow beam flashed and captured me in its glorious light. Transfixed, I soaked in the warmth of the final rays of spring equinox.
Everstow Hall sat precisely in the correct position to catch the spectacular occurrence. Every year, I wondered if the original builder had planned for the event or if its placement happened accidentally. Papa did not know the answer to my imponderable question, nor did Joel or Grayson. They did not hold the same fascination with the spring equinox as I did. Perhaps my romantic disposition spurred on my queries concerning the subject.
Papa was Sir Joel Everstow. From the Elizabethan age until the current reign of Queen Victoria, a Sir Joel presided over Everstow Hall. In many other families, names changed throughout the years. Estates occasionally passed to female heirs who married and took on their husbands' names. Surprisingly, this never occurred in our family, and the name passed through from generation to generation.
Eventually, my elder brother would inherit and his son after him. The family expected that the name would carry on. At the moment, Joel was away from home. The previous fall, he left us to attend Oxford University. It was also a family tradition. All the elder sons studied jurisprudence at the ancient university's law college.
I cannot say I missed Joel particularly. Although we studied together in the same schoolroom, he remained aloof. Papa treated him with a special reverence as the eldest, and Mr. Blanchard, the tutor, followed suit. Grayson and I trailed behind him in our studies.
Following Joel's departure, Mr. Blanchard focused entirely on Grayson while I continued to study beneath my governess's steady curriculum. We shared the schoolroom.
It irked me that my brother and I remained in the nursery. We should have dispelled with the sheltering upper rooms at seventeen and sixteen. Boys usually went away to school at eleven, and I should have attended finishing school at age fourteen. However, we remained at home under the tutoring of Mr. Blanchard and Miss Young, respectively.
Papa did not particularly pay attention to our educational requirements. The job should have fallen to Mama. However, she did not participate in our lives nor take much interest in her children. She remained apart from us in her own set of apartments.
Mama was an invalid. The doctors warned her against childbirth. A weak heart diagnosed during childhood left her drained following the slightest activity. As a result, medical professionals cautioned her to avoid certain strenuous behaviors, including marriage and bearing children. Her father dismissed their advice and insisted she conduct herself as any other young woman would.
Clarisse Grayson caught the eye of Joel Everstow quickly during her coming out ball. Papa courted her and proposed before the completion of the London season. They married without warning concerning her frail heart, and she immediately became pregnant with Joel. The strenuous nine months that followed took their toll on her health but did not deter the newly married couple. Grayson arrived promptly less than a year later, and I came shortly afterward. Mama retreated into her own chambers and never left them. Although she looked forward to our daily visits, she rarely inquired into our well-being or education.
Papa's interest extended as far as Joel's preparation to follow him as the next Lord of the Manor. Grayson studied theology since our father expected him to go into the church as second sons usually did in our family. My education transitioned from grammar and sums to learning how to become a young lady. Gray would follow Joel to Oxford in the autumn, and I expected to join other young ladies for a London season.
I felt unsure about the marriage market. However, my participation was inevitable, much to my chagrin. Although I railed against it, Miss Young assured me it was the only way to gain a husband.
The sun sank further toward the horizon, and I focused on it. I wanted to capture the last moment before the orange orb disappeared and night fell. The spring equinox would not come around again until the following year. The station trap appeared as I watched the last beam retreat along the evergreen-lined boulevard. As it swooped around the Neptune fountain, I wondered if Papa expected an evening visitor.
Stepping closer to the window, I shaded my eyes. Much to my astonishment, Joel leaped from the conveyance. Tall and lean, he stood in the last remnants of the sun's glow. It lightened his dark hair until it appeared almost blonde. He held his black top hat against the front of his black jacket, obscuring his paisley waistcoat. His lace cravat fluttered in a light breeze. Bowing at the waist, he extended his hand to his companion.
The woman stepped out of the trap and stood next to my brother. They remained beside each other as though transfixed and looked toward Everstow Hall. I could not see the newcomer clearly. A long gray cloak covered her from head to foot; the hood covered her hair, concealing her face. Spinning on my heel, I made a mad dash toward the ballroom door and rushed toward the staircase. Another door crashed open further along the corridor, and Grayson charged toward me.
"It's Joel," he cried, sliding to a halt beside me. "Whatever's he doing here? We didn't expect him for another three weeks."
"How strange," I muttered incomprehensively. "Who is the woman?"
Visitors rarely arrived at Everstow in the evening. Occasionally, Papa entertained his business associates in his home office. They spent hours discussing politics and customs transactions over their brandy and port into the late hours. Due to Mama's strained health issues, we never held balls or dinner parties. The sudden arrival of Joel and an unknown woman excited us. I lifted my skirt and raced toward the grand staircase, my heart palpitating wildly behind my bosom.
Hurriedly, I began to descend. Grayson pranced along beside me. My middle brother never walked; his feet moved to the rhythm of a natural dance step. Before we reached the ground level, Father marched into the hall from his ground floor office. His manservant, Yates, followed closely in his wake.
"Joel," Papa called sharply.
"Yes, father?" Joel halted his stride and faced Papa. The woman stopped also and stepped to our brother's side. She wove her hand through his elbow and stood beside him possessively.
"Well." Father cleared his throat noisily. "Well," he repeated, still hesitating. "You best introduce the…the…um…young lady, son."
"Miss Charlotte Plumb, Father," Joel presented. "This is my father, Lottie. Sir Joel Everstow."
"Pleased to meet you, Ducks," Miss Charlotte Plumb stated, stretching out her pink gloved hand for Papa to shake.
Her sharp, high-pitched voice echoed around the great hall, halting my footsteps and Grayson's. Papa cleared his throat again and ogled the outstretched hand. Gently, Joel pushed her arm downward until it dangled limply by her side.
Miss Plumb deftly unhooked her cloak and pushed back the hood obscuring her features. Expressionless, Yates stepped briskly forward and removed it from her shoulders. She shook out a mass of yellow corkscrew curls, the color of ripe bananas. I stared at its brightness, wondering if it was natural or dyed. Then, I caught a glimpse of her costume.
Charlotte Plumb's purple satin gown appeared almost threadbare. The neckline swooped low and pressed her bosom close, heaving it upward. A tight bodice accentuated her slim waistline, and the multilayered bustle called attention to her firm, round buttocks.
Her scarlet lips smiled at Joel confidently. Heavy layers of face powder made her skin look like fine porcelain, and black kohl surrounded her penetrating dark pupils. Blue shadow deftly drawn on her lids created the appearance of a cat's eyes. I had never seen another woman quite like her. Beside me, my middle brother gulped and clasped my hand.
Recovering our equilibrium, Grayson and I approached Papa and silently stood a step behind him. We continued to ogle our brother's companion with curiosity. Finally, after an intermediate amount of time, Joel acknowledged our presence and introduced us.
"My brother, Grayson, and younger sister, Priscilla," Joel muttered, avoiding our stare. "Miss Charlotte Plumb."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Gray stated, pressing her hand to his lips. The room stood still with the awkwardness of the situation. "We are, please, aren't we, Prissy?" he finally questioned, breaking the silence surrounding us.
The newcomer's eyebrows rose abruptly at Gray's mention of my nickname, and I believe she stifled an unexpected giggle. I was not fond of the moniker, but since it belonged to Grayson particularly, I put up with it. As I grew up, my brother used it less frequently. Nevertheless, it slipped out on this occasion.
Suddenly, I found myself riveted beneath Charlotte Plumb's scrutiny. Her penetrating black eyes caught mine and held them. I shifted nervously and instantly understood how a cobra's prey felt beneath its hypnotizing stare. Slowly, her gaze traveled over my plain white shirtwaist and navy skirt, then back to my eyes. She continued to hold them as my world came to a standstill. Finally, she turned back to Joel and whispered into his ear. He smiled and half-laughed.
I shrank inside my skin. My eager thoughts of gaining a new friend diminished swiftly. A feeling of uneasiness crept over me. What had Charlotte said to Joel that amused him about me? I pressed closer to Grayson, and he slipped his arm around my waist.
"I must apologize for the absence of Lady Everstow," Papa interrupted my troubled thoughts. "My wife is an invalid and lives entirely within her own chambers. We shall introduce her to you formally tomorrow morning. In the meantime, shall we toast the occasion? Yates?"
"As you wish, Sir," the butler murmured, demurely slipping into the drawing room to prepare the sherry.
"If you will kindly step this way, er, Miss Plumb," Papa offered, extending his elbow.
"Whatever you say, Ducky," Lottie chirped, pressing herself against Father's side in an overfamiliar fashion.
"Sir Joel," I snapped, unable to control my tongue or my frustration, "not Ducky."
"Humph," Charlotte snorted, her mouth tightening. Instant hatred filled her dark eyes, turning them into hard flint.
I returned her penetrating glare and spun on my heel abruptly. As I marched toward the staircase, my heels clipped a hollow staccato on the fieldstone floor. Charlotte's high-pitched laughter followed me until I reached the first-floor corridor. Pivoting, I raced toward the west wing and upstairs to the nursery schoolroom.
By the time I reached the third floor, I had calmed down considerably. Silently, I entered the schoolroom. Deep in conversation with Mr. Blanchard, Miss Young, my governess, did not hear me enter. Grayson's tutor did not notice me either.
"…sent down?" Claudia Young questioned, her voice sounding appalled.
"Yes, sent down," Mr. Blanchard repeated in husky tones. "That woman…" When he saw me standing in the doorway, he clipped his statement.
I momentarily pressed my back against the door, wondering what to do. Finally, I reached for the knob, turned it, and practically fell into the corridor. I ran for my bedroom and flung myself onto the vast, canopied bed.
Month after month, Joel sent home glowing reports concerning his Oxford education. Proudly, Papa expounded his success as a first-year law student. Then, several months ago, Papa became sullen about his eldest son's progress. He became tense at the mention of Joel's name.
Late one afternoon, I entered the schoolroom and discovered the governess and tutor engaged in a heated discussion concerning my elder brother. I caught the words 'inattentive, drunk, fighting, failure, and bannimus.' Their conversation swiftly changed to the warm weather when they noticed my presence.
After much controversy, the university heads decided to expel Joel. On the day of the spring equinox, he returned. It surprised us that he chose to bring Miss Charlotte Plumb with him.
"Sent down indeed," I muttered, sitting up and hugging my pillow. Never in Everstow history had anyone gotten sent down.
"What do you think of her?" Grayson asked, mincing into my room and plopping onto the bed. He grabbed another pillow and copied my stance.
"I'm trying not to," I remarked through gritted teeth. "Whatever made Joel bring her here."
"I couldn't tell you." Gray rolled his shoulders and his eyes simultaneously. "Oh, but listen, Priscilla." He squirmed his butt around, a sure sign he had a secret to tell. "After we drank the toast, Papa rang for Mrs. Cotton. He asked the housekeeper to prepare Joel's bed chamber and another for Miss Plumb. That Miss Charlotte made an awful face—it frightened me, Prissy. Actually frightened me." Gray hugged his pillow tighter. "Then Joel said…" His sapphire eyes grew big and round. "Joel said it wasn't necessary to make up a second bedroom. Papa told Mrs. Cotton to prepare it nevertheless."
"Oh, Gray," I breathed, grabbing his arm.
"Joel said it was too late and that he would share his room with Lottie." Grayson sucked in his breath and hastily continued, "He and that….that woman are getting married quickly. There's already a baby due, Prissy."
"What did Father say?"
"Papa didn't say anything," Gray stated, casting his eyes downward. "He stared into the fire, and his face turned purple and…and then he tossed his sherry glass into the flames. It burst and popped. I covered my ears with my hands and ran out. Oh, Prissy, when Mama finds out…"
Mama! My mind shrieked. Mama couldn't take the shock. The slightest discomfort, confusion, or turmoil could quickly destroy her flimsy grip on life.
"Whatever was Joel thinking?" I gasped. "He can't possibly marry that awful creature. Surely, Papa will buy her off, pay her to care for the baby, or…Oh, Gray!"
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