4. No Position, One Proposition #2
Catherine watched her father for more hints that he had an interest in the widow—interest beyond the friendship they had developed over the years of Catherine hosting Eliza for dinners at Kingston House.
Her father had been alone far too long in life, and Eliza was young enough to give him a babe or two if he wanted more children.
If he wanted an heir.
So it was a bit of a shock when he said, “Why, if my daughter ever saw fit to marrying someone, I would like to court you, Eliza, if you would be amenable.”
Catherine was sure she saw him wink at Eliza, and she immediately wondered if she had missed something between the two of them.
Eliza inhaled softly, dipping her head and once again displaying a pink blush. “I would be amenable, of course, Mr. Kingston,” she replied happily.
Catherine audibly gasped. “Marrying someone?” she repeated. “At my age?”
“Come now, Cathy, you’re not even thirty, and I’ve set aside a hefty dowry for you,” Cornelius claimed.
Catherine blinked. “You have?”
“It’s not as if I expect you to marry a blue blood, but there must be a merchant or a member of the gentry in need of a clever wife. Someone to keep his library organized,” Cornelius went on. “Perhaps there’s a matchmaker we could employ to expedite an arrangement for you.” His tone was teasing.
If ever there was a moment when Catherine Kingston thought she might faint, it was this one.
She was suddenly lightheaded, her father’s face looking as if it was swimming in a vat of oil.
“I’ll have… to give it some… thought,” she stammered, her hand gripping the door jamb so hard, she was sure her knuckles were white.
“Do that,” he encouraged. “I’m quite sure Mrs. Buxton… uh, Eliza,” he corrected himself, “would prefer to run the household without you underfoot.”
Catherine blinked. How long had her father and Eliza been planning a life together?
Without her? Had she misheard them? Had her father actually proposed to her best friend and neither of them had seen fit to tell her?
They had allowed her to continue on thinking that she was…
well, what was she now? He would sire an heir to his publishing house, and she would be left behind.
A spinster without a means of support, a third wheel to their budding relationship.
Useless and without a vocation. But not because of her lack of efforts!
Obviously torn about the situation, Eliza directed a beseeching glance at Catherine before she said, “Perhaps undertaking an avocation outside of Kingston House would be a good start?”
“What do you think I’ve been trying to do?” Catherine countered. “I’ve been asking for any position here at Kingston Publishing for years.”
Eliza straightened her shoulders. “Mayhap it’s time to consider something else of interest to you.
Another place of employment,” she suggested quietly, before glancing nervously at Cornelius.
“Or a place in need of a clever volunteer? Some place you could still work with books. You wouldn’t mind, would you, Mr. Kingston? ”
Even though Eliza was voicing Catherine’s deepest desires—more or less—it suddenly felt as though she was speaking not as Catherine’s best friend, but as her stepmother.
Catherine didn’t know if she should be pleased or incensed.
How could they have done this? How could Eliza have done this?
Even though Catherine had encouraged her friend to pursue her father as a husband, shouldn’t she have told her that she was betrothed to her father?
Before they had arrived at the publishing house?
It’s not like she hadn’t had the opportunity. At least this morning. But how long had this been going on, behind Catherine’s back?
For a moment, his bushy brows furrowed as a fist went to his hip. “As long as it wasn’t another publisher,” he hedged. “A competitor, if you will,” he added with more force.
Catherine blinked several times, aware that tears threatened to rob her of breath. “It’s a capital idea,” she managed to say as she lifted her chin. She wasn’t about to let her father see her disappointment.
Or to allow Eliza to know how betrayed she felt.
She put on a smile, but when she spoke her cheerfulness sounded forced even to her own ears.
“Why, I shall begin my search this afternoon. Right after I drop you at your home,” she added, directing her comment to Eliza.
It galled her that they had apparently plotted a life together without her knowledge—and apparently, they had plotted her life for her as well—all without telling her. How could they?
Eliza and Cornelius exchanged quick glances. “Very well,” Eliza said before she dipped a curtsy. “Good day, Mr. Kingston.”
“Oh, do call me Cornelius,” he said, bowing from the waist.
Suppressing the urge to scoff, Catherine hurried from the office, pushing past Eliza and past Benjamin’s desk without so much as a good day, and out the front door of Kingston Publishing.
She was already in the town coach when Eliza emerged from the building.
She gave the coachman directions to take them to Buxton House.
“Oh, Cathy, I’m not sure what to say,” she said as she took the bench opposite Catherine. “Please, tell me you’re not upset with me.”
“I’m not upset with you.”
Eliza dipped her head. “Thank you for bringing me with you today, and for acting as a matchmaker,” she murmured. “It has obviously worked,” she added brightly.
“Obviously,” Catherine replied, trying hard to keep the sarcasm from sounding in her voice.
“As for your father’s comment about you being underfoot, please know I would not mind if you continued to live at Kingston House. After your father and I marry.”