Chapter 12
Threading her arm through Thea’s, Phoebe leaned close. “Ignore your mother. Frederick loves you and doesn’t need anyone to force his hand.”
But there was a pause in her tone as though there was something more she wished to say, and when Thea looked at her, the young lady’s complexion had grown ashen.
“What is the matter?” asked Thea.
“Do not fret,” said Phoebe in a deceptively light tone. “The family is in turmoil at present, but that is to be expected with Papa’s passing. I am certain everything will turn out right in the end.”
Pulling her friend to a stop, Thea faced her. “You always laugh when people say that sort of thing. I believe you once called it ‘the useless, empty platitude that people employ when they have nothing better to say.’”
“And right now, I am clinging to that platitude with all my heart,” said Phoebe with a grimace. “But I beg you, please do not press the issue. I cannot tell you anything about it. There is still hope, so please distract me until everything settles back into place.”
A flutter in her stomach had Thea’s breath catching.
Surely it wasn’t so ominous as Phoebe’s tone implied.
Even without that partial confession, Thea had known something was amiss, yet she also knew that if matters were truly dire, Frederick would have spoken with her.
He may avoid conflict and discomforting conversations like the plague, but not when it truly mattered.
“Phoebe Voss wishes me to lighten her mood? Matters must be grim, indeed,” she said, adopting a gravity that echoed Frederick’s teasing solemnity.
“I cannot always be the light in the darkness, can I?” said Phoebe in an equally serious tone. “I know it is my responsibility to bring the levity to our conversation, but I do hope that you can assist with that great weight. For once.”
Thea stifled a snort. “It must be a burden to have such a sour-faced friend.”
“Yes, but I bear it up well,” said Phoebe with a put-upon sigh. “God has given me this trial, and I have done my best to live up to it. With all I have done, I am certain to be nominated for sainthood upon my death.”
“We are blessed to have you.”
Nodding magnanimously, the lady added, “I am jealous of you. I have never experienced the joy of having a friend like me.”
Thea’s smile finally fought past her self-restraint as she gave Phoebe the laugh she deserved. “You are ridiculous.”
“Yes, but you wouldn’t adore me so very much if I were any less ridiculous.”
“True. It is the only reason I keep you and Frederick around,” said Thea, attempting a grave tone, though a grin betrayed her.
The green was a cheerful sort of chaos. The remnants of the feast still littered the tables—half-eaten pies, empty jugs tipped on their sides, and scattered crumbs that the children gleefully scooped up with sticky fingers.
The air was thick with laughter and the hum of overlapping voices, punctuated now and again by the sharp clack of tin plates or the delighted shrieks of a game gone awry.
At the heart of it stood the greasy pole, gleaming in the afternoon sun.
The leg of mutton swung from the top, taunting those who scrambled up the length of wood, only to be dragged down by gravity’s pull and the heaping portion of lard slathered along the surface.
The crowd cheered at each attempt and groaned at each failure, and more than a few wives and mothers were beside themselves as they looked on in dismay as those freshly laundered clothes were ruined with every effort.
Beyond them, lawn games were in full swing, with boules flying and races of every sort springing up, and above it all, the fiddlers fought to be heard. The whole scene teetered on the edge of bedlam.
And yet, for all the disorder, harmony wove its way into every facet.
Faces shone with shared contentment, and every sound echoed the joy lingering in the air.
It was pandemonium, to be sure, but the best kind: the sunlit sort that made one feel the world, for all its troubles, was still very much alive.
Phoebe linked her arm through Thea’s, tugging her gently into motion.
They moved without any true direction, letting the noise and color sweep them along.
The lilting melody from the dancing set their steps into rhythm, and the scent of trampled grass and sweet cider clung to the air, mingled with the faint smoke of spent coals.
For a little while, the heaviness at home and the small, clinging concerns of everyday life slipped from mind.
Through the jumble of movement and laughter, Thea spied Mina at the edge of the green, her posture a little uncertain amid the bustle, though the gentleman at her side was quite animated.
Without hesitation, Thea angled their path in that direction, and though Phoebe gave a faint groan of protest and made a half-hearted attempt to steer them elsewhere, Thea ignored it, tightening her hold on her friend’s arm.
“Come. We mustn’t let my cousin believe we abandoned her,” she said, and before Phoebe could object again, Thea drew her straight toward the pair. It was just as well, for though Mina appeared at ease from a distance, the tension in her expression was clear up close.
“Have you brought a ribbon?” asked Mr. Timothy Voss, his gaze raking Mina as his mouth pulled into a smile that Thea supposed was flirtatious, though it looked a great deal better on his elder brother than on him.
“I did not,” said Mina. “I wasn’t aware of the tradition.”
“That is a shame,” said Mr. Timothy. “I, for one, would be honored to wear your colors.”
And at that, her cheeks filled with a color all their own as Mina’s gaze pleaded for rescue.
“Mr. Voss,” interjected Thea, “I fear my cousin is overheated. Could you fetch her a drink? She looks faint.”
Perhaps not the most gracious of lies, as it cast Mina as feeble, yet the gratitude in her gaze when the gentleman rushed to do her bidding made it clear that she cared not one jot about the injury to her pride.
And when he was out of earshot, Mina let out a sigh. “My deepest thanks. I do not know what to do with him as he will not stop this nonsense.”
Phoebe’s brows rose at that. “Nonsense? Perhaps he is in earnest.”
Mina didn’t go so far as to scowl, though it was clear in her gaze that she did not appreciate the sentiment. “My thanks, Miss Voss, for your insight. Of course, you know your brother better than I do, but I find his sudden overzealousness a bit… disconcerting.”
But Phoebe waved that away. “Now, that is nonsense. You have status and wealth and needn’t scurry about to find yourself a husband if you do not wish to, so why not amuse yourself?
I wouldn’t recommend Timothy for matrimony as he is still too immature to be a good husband, but there’s nothing wrong with enjoying yourself.
A bit of flirtation with an attractive gentleman can be quite diverting. ”
“I do not believe it is diverting to trifle with people or affections,” said Mina in a tone so quiet that it was easy to believe it hadn’t been spoken, though the way Phoebe’s spine straightened made it clear she’d heard the disapproval.
Mina’s cheeks colored again, and she held up her hands in placation. “I apologize, Miss Voss. I do not mean to be curt, but I have known people like him and Mr. Winwood, and I do not trust them. They like to toy with people for their own amusement, and it only leads to pain.”
“Both my brother and Mr. Winwood are gentlemen, Miss Ashbrook,” said Phoebe in a cold tone. “I do not appreciate you insinuating otherwise.”
“That isn’t what she meant,” said Thea, holding up her hands to stay the argument. Though in truth, the lady did not say such things lightly, and likely, she was insinuating far more than what Phoebe realized. “This is just a misunderstanding—”
“Good afternoon, ladies,” said Mr. Godwin, appearing as though spat up from the pits of hell to plague them. All three gave a start, and Phoebe said something under her breath that was a touch indelicate, though Thea doubted anyone but she had heard it.
“A most splendid day, is it not?” asked Mr. Godwin, bowing low enough that his hat nearly brushed the grass. “I daresay the angels themselves must look down upon Haverford and smile at such a harmonious scene. Truly, there is nothing so edifying as a neighborly village enjoying a Christian feast.”
He clasped his hands before him, smiling with the serene satisfaction of one who believes his every utterance was of great importance.
“I was just remarking to my uncle that such an occasion could only occur under the beneficent influence of the Whitcombe family. Their example inspires moral improvement wherever it reaches—one feels it even in the air, does one not? Lady Cecilia’s grace and discernment are a reflection of her most excellent aunt and uncle.
I count it to be the greatest blessing of my life to serve beneath such a pattern card of Christian virtue. ”
Thea exchanged a look with Phoebe, who appeared to be biting her tongue hard enough to bleed.
Mr. Godwin rocked on his heels, hands folded, as though awaiting the collective gratitude of the company for having shared such a noble sentiment.
The gentleman continued to expound, praising Haverford, the Lord, his patron and patroness, their entire family, his uncle, and anyone remotely connected.
He never seemed to run out of praise, and though everything was said with a smile and an air of earnestness, Thea couldn’t help it when her eyes struggled to remain focused on him.
“You are such a happy soul, Mr. Godwin,” said Mina with a smile that was far more genuine than Thea could manage at such a time.
“You are kind to say so, Miss Ashbrook. I find that sincerity, when expressed with sufficient eloquence, cannot help but lighten hearts,” said the gentleman. “And I dare say there are few who can be more eloquent than a clergyman. It is the heart and soul of our profession, after all.”
Phoebe didn’t say a word, but she gave the slightest of sighs at that. Slanting a look at Thea, it was clear that she wished to tell him it was not true on either count.
The conversation lulled, and Mina glanced at her and Phoebe, though she would find no assistance from the latter, and the former hadn’t the slightest notion what to say: she didn’t wish to lengthen the conversation with Mr. Godwin.
“Have you read Bathurst’s sermons?” blurted Mina. “I recently studied several and found his observations about prayer quite intriguing. I am not certain I agree with all his assertions, but they left me with much to ponder.”
“He is a good man,” said Mr. Godwin with a smile, tucking his hands behind him. “I knew the fellow at university, and he possesses a keen intellect. Definitely one who challenges another’s understanding.”
And with little prodding, the gentleman rambled on about Mr. Bathurst’s ideas and their time at university, all sprinkled with never-ending praise of the tutors and headmasters, his family, and his patron (and anyone who had ever spoken to the Whitcombes).
Thea offered the occasional word, though Phoebe remained silent.
Glancing between her cousin and Mr. Godwin, she couldn’t say whether Mina’s attention was due to her kind spirit or if there was genuine interest growing on her part. Hopefully, it was the former. Though Thea tried to embrace the virtue of patience, the gentleman was excessively irritating.
With wickedness or villainy, such behaviors had clear indicators and could be more easily identified, which was the first step in shoring up a weakness (assuming one was self-aware enough to do so).
Yet one’s likability wasn’t a moralistic failing or even a clearly quantifiable quality, as it varied greatly from audience to audience.
After all, what was irritating to one person may not be to another—as was evident from the fact that Mina wasn’t the slightest bit put off by Mr. Godwin’s behavior.
Thankfully, a savior in a tailcoat appeared to rescue the others.
“I do hate to interrupt,” said Mr. Winwood, slipping into the conversation with all the ease of one who was quite comfortable in any crowd. Bestowing them with a smile that couldn’t help but add to their own, the gentleman looked at Phoebe. “I was hoping I might have a word with Miss Voss.”