Chapter 11
“Please allow me,” said Thea, reaching for the plate. “Or would you prefer that I take Jennie?”
Mrs. Brinn glanced at the others circling her legs. “She’s in a fussy mood. I doubt she will allow anyone else to take her.”
“Plate it is, then,” said Thea, taking hold of it. Glancing at all the little hands reaching for the food, she was grateful the plates were tin, else they would most certainly be cracked and broken with the way they were swinging them about.
“If you manage Jennie and Susan, I can serve Martha and Billy,” said Thea. “Then we will find a place on the green to sit, and once they are settled, I will sit with them whilst you get a plate for yourself.”
“I can do so after the children have eaten—”
Thea gave Mrs. Brinn a sharp shake of her head.
If anyone needed to eat, it was the poor widow standing before her.
Not waiting for more objections, Thea set to work piling the children’s plates with everything they wished.
It was far more than their little stomachs could eat, but it would wrap up nicely for later, and she would gladly go without if need be (though there was food aplenty).
It took quite a feat of juggling to manage both Martha and Billy, though the latter was easier as he only wanted pork pies.
Being older, the former was a touch pickier, but Thea had the girl sorted out in a trice and made note of which foods they preferred.
Though the charity baskets she brought them were limited by what her kitchen staff had on hand, she would make certain that more sweet buns and pork pies made their way into the hamper in the future.
The next moment, Thea was seated on the green with three of the Brinn children gathered round her, their little hands digging into their food with fervor; before venturing back to fill her own plate, their mother sent her a questioning glance, but Thea shooed her away.
Soon, Mrs. Brinn was situated as well, with Jennie gnawing contentedly on a bit of cheese.
In the corner of her eye, Thea spied other laborers’ wives waiting, glancing toward their friend and then quickly away when Thea caught sight of them.
Good deed completed, it was time to take her leave.
Mrs. Brinn gave a half-hearted protest when Thea rose to her feet, but the woman’s smile betrayed more relief than disappointment.
No doubt the woman’s gratitude was sincere, but Thea’s presence now served only to keep others at bay: as long as a gentleman’s daughter occupied the place, none of them would dare join—as was evidenced by the empty patch around the Brinns.
Charity made for strange bedfellows. Having aided the young woman as the family struggled to find their feet after Mr. Brinn’s passing, Thea knew them quite well.
Or felt as though she did. Mrs. Brinn always received her kindly, though with strained composure and stilted conversation that was confined to the children and the weather.
For what could a farmer’s widow and a gentleman’s daughter share beyond gratitude and sympathy?
Amongst the working class, friendship was the only thing her neighbors could freely offer, and they did so in abundance.
And theirs was preferable to Thea’s. So, with a gentle word and a final smile, she excused herself, and the moment she stepped away, others drew near, their voices rising into boisterous chatter as she distanced herself.
Thea was glad Mrs. Brinn had companionship—and yet she couldn’t help but feel the sting of rejection as she crossed the green. Mrs. Brinn wasn’t much older than Thea. Nor were the women who filled the widow’s social circle. Yet it was as though they were different creatures altogether.
With a sigh, Thea gazed out at the gathering, and Frederick was nowhere to be seen.
She was done waiting. Fetching a plate of her own, she placed a few bits of bread and cheese upon it, though little of the once sumptuous feast was appetizing now.
Then scouring the tables, Thea searched for a friendly port in which to moor—
“What are you doing here?” asked Mama, sweeping over to buss her daughter on the cheek. “Your Mr. Voss is on the other side of the green, yet you are standing here.”
Thea didn’t bother reminding the lady that her Mr. Voss was quite capable of coming to her if he wished, but such logic was hardly helpful when speaking with Mrs. Nanette Keats.
“They say absence makes the heart grow fonder,” said Thea, barely able to contain her wry tone; Frederick was certainly leaving his mark on her.
“Dearest, do not arch your brow so. You risk wrinkles,” said Mama before turning her attention to the gathering. “What is she thinking?”
Following the lady’s gaze, Thea spied Mina seated before Mr. Timothy Voss. “It is an unusual pairing, but he seems keen.”
Mama’s brow furrowed the slightest bit before she relaxed it again (one wouldn’t wish to gain a dreaded wrinkle, after all).
“On the contrary, it is an excellent match for Mina as he is handsome, from a good family, and has a solid future as a barrister. To say nothing of the fact that I heard he inherited quite a sizeable sum after his father’s passing. ”
And with that, she glanced at her daughter, but Thea could neither confirm nor deny that gossip.
Frederick had said nothing of the sort to her, and even if he had, Mama was not someone with whom Thea would entrust such news.
It was harmless enough, she supposed, but it was better to avoid speculation of any sort around the lady.
Reaching forward to squeeze her daughter’s arm, Mama glanced at the plate and added, “I wasn’t referring to her choice in company. Mina will never secure a gentleman’s good opinion if she continues to eat such heaping portions.”
“That is hardly heaping—”
“With her figure, anything above a few bites is heaping,” said Mama with a sigh.
“The poor girl is suffering for want of a mother’s care.
She’s spoken of her Aunt Matilda, but the lady is clearly derelict in her duties, only concerning herself with marrying off her own daughters rather than properly guiding and chaperoning Mina—though I hear my brother-in-law compensates the lady quite handsomely to fulfill that role.
Without my sister around to watch over the poor girl, her figure has been ruined. ”
“Her figure is lovely in its own right,” argued Thea. “It may not be fashionable, but she is beautiful and one of the kindest people I have ever known.”
Straightening, Mama’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes. She is a dear. Such a gentle soul. She is positively delightful, and I did not mean to slander her. I simply worry that such an obvious defect can make it impossible to find a husband. Thankfully, she has such a handsome dowry that gentlemen like Mr. Timothy Voss are willing to consider her—”
“Mama,” said Thea, allowing every bit of exasperation to show in her tone, but before she could say another word, Phoebe swept in, bussing her friend on the cheek.
“There you are. I have been looking for you everywhere,” she said before greeting Mama with a curtsy. “Mrs. Keats, a pleasure.”
“It is good to see you, my dear,” said the lady. Taking Phoebe by the hand, Mama examined her. “You do look lovely. Positively delightful. Mourning did not suit you one bit, and it’s monstrous to expect young ladies to wear such dour, unbecoming colors.”
Phoebe brushed a hand down her skirts, which were a lovely shade of yellow that complemented her dark hair perfectly.
“Our family does not observe prolonged mourning, and it has been five months since Father’s passing.
I doubt he cares one jot what I am wearing, and it seemed the proper time to emerge. ”
“Gentlemen are fickle lots, and it would not do to chase them off with mourning clothes,” said Mama with a sage nod. “Those dark, somber colors are hardly enticing.”
Glancing at her friend, Thea waited for one of Phoebe’s subtle jabs at this latest example of Mama’s sage advice.
“Too true,” was all the response she gave.
Barely able to keep from gawking, Thea stared at her friend. “Since when are you concerned about enticing a gentleman? Does this have something to do with Mr. Winwood?”
Phoebe’s expression brightened as though amused, though there was a sharpness to her light tone. “Certainly, Mr. Winwood. He is a fine prospect. But if not him, there are plenty of gentlemen of good standing in town. Have you spied Mr. Hawksworth?”
Frowning, Thea cocked her head and stared at her friend. “No, but why are you looking for him?”
Phoebe laughed—a bright but brittle thing. “I am eager for a dance.”
“You wish to dance with a man whom you dubbed ‘duller than dishwater’ on more than one occasion?” asked Thea.
“Did I?” A flash of pink stole across Phoebe’s cheeks as she glanced about the gathering.
“There is nothing more amusing than fishing for men’s hearts,” said Mama with a sigh. “It is about time that you enjoyed yourself a bit, Miss Voss.”
In a great show of self-restraint, Thea did not point out how often Mama had criticized Phoebe in private for not doing her duty as, being the venerable age of four and twenty, the lady was “getting on in years and needed to secure a husband before she lost her bloom.”
“If only Mr. Godwin wouldn’t pester me so,” murmured Phoebe. “He is making it quite difficult to converse with any gentleman.”
“We simply need to find him another young lady to occupy his attention,” said Mama, glancing out at the gathering.
“Your niece seems to like him well enough,” offered Phoebe with a chuckle.
Mama grimaced and shook her head. “Mina is wealthy enough that she needn’t stoop to a simple rector.”
“He is a good man,” said Thea with a sigh. “A tad irritating at times, but he has a handsome living—”
“And he will tell you so countless times,” said Phoebe, leveling a narrowed look at her. “Are you defending him?”
“Only reminding you that he is still a good man and doesn’t deserve your teasing.”
“Does that mean you wish to sit with him during the play?” asked Phoebe with a knowing raise of her brows.
“Your brother wouldn’t like it,” said Thea, quickly side-stepping that question before taking a bite of cheese from her plate to forestall further inquiries.
“Perhaps you can find him a sweetheart, Mrs. Keats,” said Phoebe, turning to Mama with a warm smile. “You are such a talented matchmaker.”
“And I might secure you a gentleman or two,” added the lady with a gleam in her eye. And rather than argue against it as she had done so many times before, Phoebe nodded, and Mama hurried away before she changed her mind.
But she paused to bestow another buss on her daughter’s cheek. In a whisper, she said, “Do not stand here. Go to your Mr. Voss. And for heaven’s sake, do not let him slip through your fingers.”
Thea jerked backward and chided, “Mama.”
But the lady swept away without another word.
“I am surprised she hasn’t trapped you and Frederick in a compromising situation to rush matters along,” said Phoebe with a sigh that held all the exasperation one could muster for such a moment.
“If she cared any less about public opinion, she would, but Nanette Keats would never risk a scandal,” said Thea, setting aside her plate on an obliging table.
The food was entirely unappetizing now. “As is, she’s already abandoned all chaperone duties in the hopes that people will begin speculating enough that it will force Frederick’s hand, though it is of no consequence as we are all but engaged and anyone with sense knows it. ”
But Thea’s gaze gravitated to the gentleman in question and the rose still affixed to his lapel. Not that it signified anything. No doubt he would give it to her soon. Their understanding was stronger than such small customs, and only appropriate timing stood between them and the marriage altar.
And if Phoebe was abandoning her mourning, then even that would soon be behind them. Soon.