Chapter Four
UPON ARRIVAL AT church the next day, Dina stayed apart from the party guests by greeting parish friends only to realize that by the time everyone was seated, she was directly behind Miss Johansson and David.
The girls had stayed back with Lydia, and Dina wished they were here so that she had something to distract her from thinking only about David, his future bride, and Mr. Littlefield.
Mr. Littlefield had chosen to go riding with Mr. Dewberry and Mr. Jennings instead of attend services, which Mary had not been happy about but accepted with a tight smile and slight scowl toward her husband, who was always finding excuses not to attend church.
Dina listened with half an ear to the vicar’s sermon on patience while trying not to watch David and Miss Johansson too closely.
How had they met? How deep was their connection to one another?
How did Miss Johansson justify her choice to entertain another man?
What was Mr. Littlefield’s situation in life?
At one point, David turned his head and leaned toward Miss Johansson to whisper something in her ear.
Pure jealousy clutched Dina’s heart, and she felt the oddest temptation to jump to her feet and shout, “Fire!” in an attempt to draw them apart.
The temptation faded, but the anger remained.
How dare Miss Johansson treat David’s love with such flippancy?
If Dina were in her place . . . her thoughts paused, and she stared over the vicar’s head as dangerous thoughts slipped into her mind.
David was not an uneducated nineteen-year-old boy trying to find his place in England any longer.
He was twenty-five, a man of the world, and, obviously, established enough to marry.
He’d completed his education and come into his inheritance of the land that secured his place in English society.
Dina was not English, and she could not give him the connections that were important—but were those things as important now as they had been when he was a fledgling in this English world?
Were connections through marriage more important than fidelity?
Trust? If David knew what was happening between Miss Johansson and Mr. Littlefield, would he not rethink his choice of bride?
If he did reconsider his marriage to Miss Johansson, would Dina come to his thoughts at all?
Would he consider Dina if Miss Johansson were no longer a prospect?
The thoughts burned like venom and she felt like an absolute heathen. Not only to have these thoughts, but to have them in church. What wickedness had possessed her?
Dina could not see Miss Johansson’s reaction to David’s whispering aside from a slight nod.
The envy continued to burn. There had been an afternoon back in London when Dina had been standing with her back to a stand of shrubs at a small garden party Mary had thrown to celebrate Rebecca’s christening.
Dina had mostly been on hand to care for the baby, but everyone seemed intent on taking a turn to hold and coo at the infant, so Dina had kept to the edges of conversation so that she was on hand but not in the way.
She had nearly jumped out of her skin when David’s voice had suddenly sounded in her ear.
“Meet me at the crossed hedges in five minutes.” As quick as he’d been somewhere in the shrubs behind her, he was gone.
But five minutes later she’d found him waiting for her at the place where three different hedgerows met up, creating a concealed space, and . . .
David pulled back from Miss Johansson’s ear and saw Dina watching them.
Dina quickly looked at her gloved hands in her lap, and a moment later he was facing forward once more.
She had not made a decision of what to do about her suspicions and used the opportunity of being in church to send up a prayer for help in making sense of what was happening while hoping her wicked thoughts would not prevent her ability to know God’s grace on this topic.
She felt better after the prayer, a bit more confident that she would know what to do when the right time to do it came about.
She also succeeded in pushing away the idea that there was a potential future for David and herself if Miss Johansson were no longer on the stage.
His situation was different than it had been six years ago, but she was still a penniless Scotswoman with nothing to offer an accomplished man like David.
She could not let fantasy cloud her judgement and still wanted the best for David.
She was not the best for him, and she needed to remember that.
When services finished, Dina hurried to leave the church without appearing to hurry, sharing nods and quick hellos with friends and neighbors rather than longer greetings.
She especially did not want to get stuck in conversation with any of the house guests.
Once out of the building and down the steps, she told Mary she would walk home.
Wind whipped at the ribbons of women’s bonnets and the sides of men’s coats, leaving the congregation grasping at their wayward clothing while stubbornly going through the traditional after-service chatter, and Mary cast a concerned look at the gray sky overhead.
It would surely rain sometime today, which is why they had brought the covered carriages rather than walking the easy mile as they usually did.
Dina would prefer to be caught in a downpour over being forced into the close quarters of a carriage right now with so many people who made her uncomfortable.
She needed time alone to think things through.
“Are you certain that is a good idea?” Mary asked.
Dina kept a smile in place. “I feel quite restless after sitting on that unyielding pew and feel sure I can beat th’ rain.
” She did not wait for further argument and began taking quick steps toward the house.
Depending on how long everyone chatted and shared introductions, she might very well arrive home first, which meant she could hide in the nursery for the rest of the day.
She was some distance past the church yard when she heard someone behind her call her name.
She turned, holding her bonnet in place so that the wind would not pluck it off her head, pins and all, and felt her chest tighten to see Miss Johansson hurrying to catch up with her.
The wind pressed her skirts against her legs, the hem flapping like a tail behind her as she moved forward.
Dina looked past her to see who else might be with her, but Miss Johansson seemed to be alone.
“You are an exceptionally fast walker,” Miss Johansson said between gasping breaths when she reached Dina.
She adjusted the ringlets on either side of her face that had gone askew without dropping the smile Dina no longer trusted.
“I’ve been trying to catch up almost from the first steps you took away from the church. ” She tried to catch her breath.
“My apologies,” Dina said politely, still holding her bonnet. It was getting colder as the storm moved in. “Can I help you with something, Miss Johansson?”
Miss Johansson laughed a perfectly bubbly laugh that the wind took and swirled around them both. “You can help by escorting me back to the house,” she said and hooked her arm through Dina’s before taking a step and pulling Dina along beside her. “I love a good walk, don’t you, Miss Cameron?”
“Um, certainly.” Mostly she enjoyed walking alone. She cast a sideways look at this woman and burned at the idea that those lips had kissed David’s lips. And Mr. Littlefield’s too.
“It is my favorite aspect of being in the country,” Miss Johansson said as though she and Dina were close friends. “Long walks through beautiful landscapes. I’ve never been to this part of the country; however, it is lovely here.”
She continued to prattle on for several minutes, and Dina agreed with her opinions when she stopped long enough to invite a response.
Dina held herself tightly, hating that she’d lost the time she needed to think of what to do next and feeling disappointed in herself for finding this woman so agreeable when she was so determined not to like her.
“Where are you from, Miss Johansson?” she asked during one of the young woman’s pauses. She might as well gain something from this interaction, and she did want to know more about this woman. How did she know Mr. Littlefield, for example?
“Sussex,” she said. “Papa’s principal holding is near Amberley.”
Principal. That meant that her family owned multiple estates. “I hear that is also a beautiful part of the country.”
“Have you never been?” Miss Johansson asked.
Dina shook her head.
“I suppose it is quite a distance south of here,” Miss Johansson commiserated.
A gust of wind pushed the brims of both their bonnets back over their heads, and Miss Johansson had to release Dina’s arm in order to hold it in place.
They had both only recovered from the assault when Miss Johansson spoke again.
“Have you traveled to other parts of England? I understand you have been with the Jennings for two years now.”
“I went to Southport with the Jennings last summer.”
“Is that the only place you have visited?”
Dina bristled slightly at the pity in Miss Johansson’s voice.
“And London,” Dina said almost defensively. “Several years ago.”
“Really? And did you enjoy London?”
“It had its charms,” Dina said, thinking only of David, though she had enjoyed the parks and shopping too.
It had all seemed so modern and sharp compared to Braemar, just an ordinary Scottish village with rough-built structures of necessity and dirt streets.
There were no ribbon shops or cobbled pathways in Braemar.