Chapter 17
“With your experience, you must have a unique understanding of the troubles ailing the parish,” said Phoebe.
Mrs. Broad’s brows rose at that. “This wasn’t our parish. I am from Kingsmere, and I returned home after my husband passed and his successor took possession of the vicarage.”
“You were forced from your house?” Phoebe didn’t know why she asked the question, for it was the way of things. The building belonged to the parish, not the clergyman himself. However, Phoebe hadn’t considered that one day she would lose yet another home.
“My dear, you look faint,” said Mrs. Broad, the wrinkles in her brow creasing all the deeper. “How are you settling in? I have heard some odd accounts, but I imagine Mrs. Whitcombe is difficult to navigate, and you and your husband have so many dealings with her.”
Phoebe’s thoughts tangled, each pulling in different directions until the knot was too strangled to loosen.
Words pressed close, eager but unformed, and she felt the urge to explain and justify every small confusion and misstep as proof that she was merely ignorant, not apathetic.
Yet heat swept through her once more, condemning the weakness that required this conversation.
Resolve quivering, Phoebe cursed herself. She ought to have leapt into the fray the moment she’d decided to speak to Mrs. Broad, but time had allowed another wave of self-recrimination to envelope her.
Surely she ought to manage on her own. Phoebe was no fool. She understood society and how to navigate those waters.
Phoebe drew another breath, slower this time, and felt the weight of the moment settle fully upon her.
Pride urged silence. Need required speech.
She hovered between the two, aware that whatever she said next would alter the course of more than this conversation.
To find her footing in this world, she needed to choose—but only one path forward would provide the answers she sought.
“It has been miserable,” whispered Phoebe, forcing the words out.
The admission loosened something that had been held too tightly for too long.
Once freed, it did not come apart neatly.
Thoughts surged forward without order, each demanding to be acknowledged before the last found its place, and Phoebe spoke in fragments, circling back upon herself, correcting one point only to abandon it for another, her hands moving as though they might shape sense from the air.
The life she’d lost and the unwanted marriage it had brought about. The constant uncertainty. The expectations never voiced yet keenly felt.
Phoebe’s composure thinned as she spoke, replaced by a breathless urgency that left little room for dignity as the words tumbled over one another, unpolished and imperfect, carrying with them the strain of having been rehearsed in silence countless times but never spoken aloud.
Whatever judgment might follow, she had already crossed the greater threshold—the one that required her to admit, if only to herself, that she could not navigate these waters alone.
“I have been nothing but a burden, and I am certain my husband regrets our marriage,” said Phoebe, her breath growing ragged.
“I have managed to make some friends in the village, but they are so occupied with their children and managing their households that they haven’t the time to guide me.
I do what I can, but I manage to cause trouble even when I am doing something so innocuous as delivering a christening box—which I didn’t know I needed to do until it was too late to do it properly. ”
Mrs. Broad held up her hands and forestalled Phoebe’s next complaints by quickly adding, “Do not allow Mrs. Talley’s behavior to sour your experience today.
The vast majority of those who receive charity are quite grateful for it, but there will always be those who feel entitled to more.
Had you brought the box she wanted, she would’ve found something else to criticize.
You did a fine job, given the circumstances. ”
Giving her an encouraging nod, she waited until Phoebe managed to take several breaths before adding in a gentle tone, “Didn’t your mother ever take you to deliver charity baskets? Or aid with your village’s various charitable societies?”
Phoebe scoffed, the sound a touch watery.
“Mrs. Sarah Voss is a lady of leisure in every definition of the word. No doubt, she gave funds, but she did not surrender her time nor did she expect us to. The mistress of Dunsby Hall busied herself with personal accomplishments and social calls—and I cannot seem to do even that properly.”
Shoulders drooping, Phoebe stared off at the far wall. Even with assistance, how would she learn it all?
“Come now, do not accept defeat,” said Mrs. Broad.
“For the first time in your life, you must find your place in society. You were born into Haverford’s, and you belonged to the highest tier of it, so it is little wonder that you are struggling here.
I cannot tell you how many feathers I ruffled when I arrived in my new parish. ”
“You did?” asked Phoebe, her voice sounding so pathetically hopeful that she cringed and stared at the hands now clenched in her lap.
“Oh, very much so,” she replied, a smile warming her tone. “I offended nearly everyone of consequence within the first month.”
Phoebe looked up.
“I concerned myself too quickly with matters that were not mine to oversee,” Mrs. Broad continued.
“The churchwardens manage the distribution of parish goods—clothes, food, coal allowances—but I foolishly thought they would welcome my assistance without question. So, I asked after accounts, suggested alterations, and even accompanied a delivery without asking permission. While the vicar’s wife often assists with such matters, I ran headlong into those duties without taking the time to understand how that parish managed them. ”
Mrs. Broad’s smile turned wry. “And then I insisted on poking my pretty little nose into the parish school, doing what I could to ‘improve’ upon the teacher’s efforts. It took weeks before I understood why rooms fell silent whenever I entered.”
Chuckling softly to herself, Mrs. Broad added, “Though I was a genteel young lady, I did not understand that customs and expectations vary greatly from village to village, nor was I mature enough to recognize the importance of patience. However, I learned quickly just how much damage newcomers do when they insert themselves into the heart of a community they do not yet comprehend.”
Mrs. Broad gave Phoebe the same censorious look she’d given the Talleys. “These things feel disastrous when they happen, but our best lessons come from our greatest missteps—if we choose to learn from them. So, you had best stop wringing your hands and get to work.”
“Then I have not ruined everything and deserve to be run out of the village?” asked Phoebe in a tone she had meant to be self-deprecating but was simply self-pitying.
“Now, none of that, my girl,” said Mrs. Broad. “I am quite willing to commiserate, but I will not wallow. You’ve had a hard time of it, to be certain, but it is only hopeless if you allow it to be—”
The door opened, and Phoebe stiffened, turning away from the intrusion and wiping at her face (though thank the heavens, there were no tears to be found).
“Now, what have we got here?” said a fellow, though his footsteps stopped short. “Am I intruding?”
“Come now, Mr. Colby,” said Mrs. Broad, motioning toward an empty armchair. “I am just comforting our rector’s new wife.”
“Oh, I pity the poor man who has to manage Mrs. Whitcombe day and night, and I imagine it wouldn’t be easy for his wife, either,” said Mr. Colby, settling into the seat with more gravity than grace, for the rail-thin legs seemed to give out from beneath him.
Dark, bushy brows hung over his eyes, which (though milky with age) still bore a hint of blue.
Though she ought to have been irritated at being caught in such a vulnerable moment, the impulse vanished when Mr. Colby flashed her a rascally wink.
“Mrs. Godwin, allow me to introduce my lodger, Mr. Colby,” said Mrs. Broad, motioning toward the fellow. “He’s a former lieutenant who decided to moor his boat in Kingsmere when it came time for him to give up his life at sea.”
“It was less of a choice and more of a necessity,” corrected Mr. Colby. “My wife and children were gone, leaving me nowhere to go. Eventually, my funds ran out and age required me to stop, and Kingsmere just happened to be the place where those coincided.”
The fellow spoke so matter-of-factly, tossing his hardships about as though they were a passing comment about the weather.
Even lacing it with a bit of humor. Yet behind the smile, there was a tinge of sorrow, showing her the truth beneath the affectation.
It reminded her so much of her brother that Phoebe’s heart ached for those men who hid their pain behind their smiles.
Which only made her raw heart hurt all the more.
“Well, we are glad to have you,” said Mrs. Broad.
“And I’m glad to have found a safe harbor here,” he replied, glancing at the tea service that had arrived sometime during Phoebe’s confessions, though she couldn’t say how the maid had slipped in, delivered it, and left without her noticing.
Mrs. Broad poured a cup, preparing it to his specifications, and handed it over, though the fellow’s arm shook as he tried to reach for it. Phoebe rose quickly, passed the cup over, and filled the saucer with a selection of sweets.
“I was just giving our dear girl a rousing lecture so she won’t quit Kingsmere altogether,” said Mrs. Broad.
“It must be awfully rousing indeed. Some of the ladies hereabout are harpies of the highest order,” murmured Mr. Colby as he bit into a biscuit.
“Every village has some, and I am certain Mrs. Godwin is capable of putting them in their place,” said Mrs. Broad, giving her guest an assessing look. “No, she is simply adrift. Navigating a new path in life is difficult.”
“I am certain Mrs. Broad will sort you out in a trice,” said Mr. Colby. “She certainly sorted me out.”
Mrs. Broad huffed. “Men are simple. Fill them with food, and they are happy as can be.”
With a bit of cake littering his lapels, Mr. Colby looked up, his glasses slipping low on his nose as he stared at her, and Mrs. Broad turned a knowing look at Phoebe whilst offering her a teacup as well.
“Now, we must come up with a plan of action to help our Mrs. Godwin,” said Mrs. Broad, and Mr. Colby gave a decisive nod.
Phoebe accepted the cup, its warmth seeping into her fingers as the conversation carried on around her, and for the first time since arriving at Kingsmere, she didn’t feel like an interloper or a guest. Though her troubles remained, she wouldn’t have to sort them out alone.
And when Phoebe smiled again, it came without effort.