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She took his arm, her fingers resting lightly on the crook of his elbow. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not very nice to let a potential client know that your business may be on the verge of collapse,” she admitted. Her tone was neutral enough, but a thread of sadness ran through it.
“Not at all,” he admitted. “If anything, I appreciate your honesty.”
She glanced up at him, the tight lines in her face relaxing. She was a pretty thing in her own right. All these Siddons girls were lovely. Why was she so certain she was destined for spinsterhood? Her sisters had made brilliant matches of their own, even without a fortune or family to back them. Surely some fellow around here would take a second look at her.
* * *
Nan listlessly poked at the food on her plate as her dinner companions talked and joked around her. Everyone, even shy Jane, seemed to be enjoying themselves. Every time she took a bite, though, the chicken tasted like sawdust and a lump rose in her throat. If she couldn’t get her sisters’ attention long enough to discuss the problem of the French milliner, then she would have to go home and give vent to a good, long sob. No one knew about the tears that wet her pillow so often. She’d hidden the fact that she cried at night from her sisters for years, because someone had to be the practical one of the trio. Susannah would throw temper tantrums and Becky would go off on endless walks whenever trouble threatened. Nan would merely stuff her fears deep down inside and, after bedtime, allow the tears to slide down her cheeks unchecked until her pillowcase was damp.
Thus she had gained the reputation of being stolid and unshakable when really, she just was terribly clever at hiding her hurts.
“I do wish you’d eat more,” a smooth voice spoke up beside her. “You’ve hardly tasted anything all evening.”
Nan flicked a glance over at John Reed, giving him a tiny smile. It was difficult to decipher his character. At the shop this morning, he’d been a dreadful tease and seemed to enjoy putting her on edge. On the other hand, his affection for Jane was genuine, and his offer to help when they were standing in the entry hall had an authentic ring to it. He was so handsome that she had to force herself to meet his gaze—something she’d made herself do when she was trying to convince him her shop was worthy of their business. Now, in the intimacy of a family dinner party, being so closely regarded by those brown eyes was well-nigh unendurable.
“I believe it was Byron who said that a woman shouldn’t eat anything in public,” she rejoined. “I am merely following his dictates.”
John laughed. “I find it very doubtful that someone with your strength of character would follow the edicts of any man.”
She didn’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed. Her head ached and the lump simply wouldn’t stop choking her throat.
“I know you are worried about your business, but have faith,” he rejoined. “I am certain we can find a solution to the problem if we simply ponder it.”
“No one really wishes to ponder it,” Nan replied as lightly as she could manage. “But I do thank you for your offer.”
Susannah rose, and with her, Becky and Jane stood. Placing her fork to one side, Nan followed suit. Now, perhaps, she would have a few moments to get her sisters’ attention.
But as soon as they entered the parlor, Susannah turned conversation to Becky’s pregnancy. Nan sighed as she took her place beside Jane on the settee. As Susannah prattled on about nursemaids and physicians, Nan’s patience grew thinner and thinner. Becky had ample time to plan the circumstances of her first child’s birth, and more to the point, she had a right to choose how it happened without Susannah’s list of instructions.
“Oh, do be quiet, Susannah,” Nan finally snapped. If she heard any more from her eldest sister, she’d not even make it home before she began crying in frustration.
Becky and Susannah stared frankly at her, and Jane gave a pained little gasp. Regret tore at Nan’s heart. She’d hate for Jane to think ill of her, even if she was highly annoyed with her sisters.
“I beg your pardon?” Susannah leveled her best glare at Nan, the one that had worked so many times before to bring Nan to heel.
“I said, do be quiet,” Nan repeated. Now that she was in, she might as well muck on further. “It’s ridiculous to prattle on when Becky has loads of time to plan her child’s arrival. Let her be.”
Becky breathed a little sigh of relief and cast a grateful glance Nan’s way. Perhaps she had grown weary of Susannah’s bossiness, as well.
“There is a problem that’s more pressing than anything else at the moment, because it threatens the well-being of our business,” Nan continued, meeting Susannah’s gaze steadily. “The grocer has hired a French milliner and her work is cutting deeply into our profits.”
“Is this all?” Susannah rested her back against the seat of the settee, arranging her skirts so they hung in graceful folds to the floor. “Surely one milliner won’t hurt the shop. Indeed, some competition could be good for business.”
“I’ve only sold two bonnets in the past week.” On the one hand, it was humiliating to admit the truth. On the other, it was a bit of a relief to share how badly things were going. “You know that we usually do at least three times that much, even when things are slow.”
“I don’t see how the new milliner can really be hurting your shop.” Becky’s subtle emphasis on your was not lost on Nan. If there was ever any doubt that the shop was hers alone to make a success of or not, this conversation was making the matter as clear as could be. “I am sure, as a Frenchwoman, her designs are quite smart. Your designs tend toward the practical, Nan. I am certain there is room for both in this village.”
Tears pricked the back of Nan’s eyes. Once, the three sisters had braved the difficulties of life in Uncle Arthur’s home, as he squandered what was left of their small fortune. Later, their closeness had endured through Susannah’s courtship with Daniel. Even Becky’s courtship with Paul had not left Nan unaffected. Yet now she was really and truly alone. Her sisters, so quick to rush to each other’s aid in times past, now had different concerns and priorities.
She was about to say something—anything—to try once more to get them to understand, when the parlor door opened and the gentlemen filed in.
Well, there was nothing to do now. She would simply have to take care of this matter on her own. She found a seat in a quiet corner of the room, her head throbbing. Jane cast a tight little smile her way and then turned her attention to her brother. In all likelihood, Jane was telling him that the Siddons shop was a dismal failure, and that they should take their business elsewhere. Well, Jane would say it more nicely than that. But her impassioned plea to her sisters probably cost her the one customer she’d gotten in the past few weeks.
“I daresay there’s at least one lady present who can play the pianoforte,” John spoke up, rising from his seat. “Why don’t we have a dance? Just an informal little hop.”
Becky rose. “I can’t really dance right now, so I will be happy to play.”
Nan stifled a groan as her brothers-in-law moved chairs and settees back to the sides of the room, and rolled up one of the rugs. She really wasn’t in the right frame of mind for a dance. Even at her most lighthearted moments, she had little patience for dancing. At the moment, her feet felt positively leaden.
Becky struck up a simple little tune, playing variations on the theme as the gentlemen finished preparing the room. Nan rose. Perhaps she could leave early. She cast a quick glance out the window. Dusk had deepened over the moor. There was no way she could walk without possibly tripping and falling or getting lost. She could ask Susannah for the use of her carriage, but that would call attention to herself. The only way it would work is if she was able to slip away unnoticed.
“Don’t tell me that you’re about to make a jump for it.” Nan jerked slightly as John spoke. He must have sidled up to her when she was preoccupied with managing her escape. “The way you are staring out that window, I wouldn’t be surprised if you threw up the sash and leaped out onto the moor.”
Nan forced a polite smile. “I don’t care much for dancing.”
John extended his palm with a bow. “I doubt that. I think you would be an excellent partner.”
Becky swung into the country dance as John led Nan out to the cleared space in the middle of the room. She pushed aside all thoughts of her business as she concentrated on the steps. They were so intricate and if she wasn’t careful, she’d slip and end up on the floor.
“Already you look more at ease,” John remarked as they moved through a figure. “Somehow, I knew you were born for dancing.”
Nan’s heart fluttered the tiniest bit. Stop being so ridiculous. That was the sort of compliment young men gave to young women all the time. He meant nothing by it, and she mustn’t let a mild pleasantry turn her head. “Why, thank you.”
“I think I have a solution to your business problem,” John continued, taking her hand as they stepped closer together and then apart. “If your work is pleasing to my sister—and she will need to see a sample of it first, of course—I should like to hire you to do her entire wardrobe for her Season in London. Everything she needs, from gowns to riding habits to, of course, bonnets.”
“Everything?” She hesitated for a fraction of a second, and it threw their timing off as they danced. With the skill surely born of years of practice, John smoothed over her missed step and continued as though she’d never stumbled.
“Yes. My sister is beautiful, and I think she will have great success once she makes her debut. But I know she’s shy and uncomfortable. If she had clothes made just for her, and if she worked closely with you on the designs, it might make her feel more confident. You can sew, can’t you?” he continued after a brief pause, sizing her up as though he was entirely unsure of her abilities at anything.
“Yes, of course I can sew.” She cast him an exasperated look, and his eyes danced as though he was hard-pressed not to laugh. “But if you’ll forgive me for saying so, you didn’t seem very impressed with my skills earlier today. Just a few hours ago, you questioned my ability to turn out one single stylish bonnet. Now you want me to create an entire bespoke wardrobe for your sister. Why this sudden change in attitude?”
He paused a moment, and her heart lurched. Would he say something pretty and flowery, something that would compliment her skill and flatter her? Few men did, although her sisters received compliments all the time. In all likelihood, his hesitation was because he didn’t know what to say. She was demanding an explanation, and he must know she wouldn’t take less than an honest answer.
“I was being a bit of a joker this afternoon,” he began slowly. “I was trying to jest with you. Tease you, I am afraid to say. Jane took me to task for it after we left.”
“Do you make a habit of teasing innocent shopkeepers?” She could not suppress the wry smile twisting her mouth, and he grinned back.
“Only when they come and fetch us, demanding our business.”
A warm flush suffused Nan’s cheeks. “I must admit, that was out of character for me. A move born of desperation, I’m afraid. I know I should trust in the Lord, but it’s hard to always remember that.”
“I don’t know that I would hold with some notion of a god playing with us, like a bunch of chess pieces.” John guided her through the closing figure of the dance. “I think boldness in business is a highly admirable skill.”
Becky’s playing grew softer and ended with a single note. John bowed as Nan curtsied, but the end of the dance wouldn’t mark the end of the interrogation. His remarks discomfited her, but at the same time, there was not much she could say in return. At least, not now. The idea of starting a new argument, this one about the existence of God, was too much after an already long day.
“I suppose I should be glad you admire boldness. However, you still haven’t answered my question. Did you make your sudden change because you felt badly about your behavior?”
He laughed. “You give me far too much credit. No, I can’t really explain why I’ve changed my mind. I suppose if you were going to tie it to just one thing, it would be because you get along with my sister so well already. Jane allows very few people into her circle. She never warms up to anyone as quickly as she warmed up to you. I think your very presence would have a calming effect on her.”
Nan nodded as he guided her over to one of the chairs pushed up against the wall. “I like Jane very much.”
For all his teasing ways, John must be feeling some hint of nervousness, for his shoulders relaxed as she spoke the words. “So, you will agree to it, then? I can entrust Jane to you, and no longer worry about the matter?”
“I did not say that.” Nan took her seat with a flourish, smoothing out her skirts. Somehow, the knowledge that he’d been nervous, too, made her feel a bit more confident. “I will think about it. I don’t know how I would manage both the shop and an entire wardrobe for Miss Reed, but I will give the matter some thought.”
“The shop?” He shrugged. “That’s an unnecessary complication. No, we must have your undivided attention. You would simply have to close the shop.”
“Close it?” Nan shook her head. “I had not even considered that.”
“Look.” John drew a chair up close to Nan and cast a most persuasive gaze upon her. “You said yourself that the shop was doing poorly. Why not let it go? You’d have to come to London with us anyway. Or at the very least, you’d be spending the next several months with us at Grant Park.”
Nan blinked. There was some truth to what he said. “I hadn’t thought of that at all.”
“Come along, you two.” Paul clapped his hands and strode over. “We’re about to start a new dance. Whatever are you talking about so intently, all tucked away in this corner?”
“I’ve just made Miss Siddons an offer that could change her whole life,” John replied, giving Paul a boyish grin. “Provided, of course, that she has sense enough to accept it.”
Chapter Three (#ulink_29847373-9da3-5b23-a498-73e5d701feda)
Nan glanced over at her young helpers, Abigail and Mercy. The two girls had been with the sisters’ millinery shop for some time now, and they were both quick and eager workers. Despite their nimble fingers and helpful ways, they never grew any closer to Nan than after they’d started. Nan stifled a sigh. It would be a relief to unburden herself to them—to tell them both about the previous night, and how John’s challenge was taken as a proposal of marriage by Susannah and Becky.
Her cheeks burned at the memory of her sisters leaping up, embracing her and telling her how happy she would be. John’s excessive apologies afterward cleared up the mess but somehow also made her feel like even more of an old maid than she was. He had just been offering her a job, not asking for her hand in marriage. His tone of voice, echoing in her ears, grated on her last nerve. Nan clenched her teeth and tightened her hold on the bonnet brim she was trimming. The sudden pressure made the brim snap.
Abigail and Mercy gasped in unison, staring over at Nan with round eyes.
She couldn’t blame them. She’d never spoiled anything she’d worked on, ever. A mistake cost the shop money, and she would never lose money if she could help it. Nan gave them both a taut smile, but it was hardly a welcoming and calming expression, she was sure. She needed to get out of the shop. If she stayed, she’d start pacing—her pet habit when agitated. If she started pacing, then Abigail and Mercy would know something was wrong.
“Better go out for a while—need to get bread for dinner,” she said, but her nerves were so frayed that the words tumbled out in an unintelligible rush. She left the shop in a swirl of skirts, banging the door shut behind her.
Now what should she do?
If she headed farther into the village, she’d be tempted to go spy on the French milliner. If she applied reason and logic to the situation, she would know that there was no good that would come of staring at the poor woman. Yet, she was not the kind of girl who could find comfort by rambling for hours over the moors, as her sister Becky did. So, should she go into the village? Or roam the fields? Neither choice was particularly appealing.
Tansley Village was so awfully small. Funny, she hadn’t really noticed the village’s closeness until just now. If you had to go somewhere for privacy, where was there to go?
There was no place to go. For once, she craved the anonymity of a city street so that she could lose herself among the bustling crowd. Someplace like London, where she could merely fade into the background and be alone with her thoughts.
Father, help me. Help me move past all this. If only God could blot out the memory of her humiliation, and remove the sting. If only it had never happened.
Instead, she directed her feet toward the moors. They offered the only sense of solitude she could find in Tansley, and she needed some time alone to think.
The crisp autumn breeze rustled her skirts, and she tugged her bonnet off, letting it dangle down her back by its ribbons. If she was Becky, she would also loosen her braids and let her hair tumble its full length, just touching the small of her back. But then, it would take forever to coax the tangles back out so she could wind her locks into their coronet of braids.
She might follow in her sister’s footsteps as far as walking out on the moor, but she would only take her imitation so far.
John’s words echoed through her mind.
Offer.
Change her life.
Accept.
No wonder everyone thought he’d been proposing marriage. She scowled and scuffed at a rock with the toe of her boot. “Handsome men are such fools,” she breathed aloud, finally daring to say the hot words that had been bubbling under the surface since the ridiculous scene last night. “What was he thinking? He wasn’t thinking at all.” Typical. Disheartening and a stark reminder of the characteristics of all handsome men. She’d been allowing herself to soften toward John until his preposterous turn of phrase humiliated her before her family and brought sharp, painful reminders of her impending spinsterhood into bold relief.
A movement caught the corner of her eye. Someone else was walking out on the moor. Nan paused, anxiety rising in her chest. She really had no wish to socialize with anyone right now. Perhaps it was just a local villager, whom she could pass with a brief nod and hello.
She peered closer. A lithe young woman with dark hair was climbing the steep hillside. It was Jane. Last night she had begun observing Jane’s movements and gestures as a way to understand how best to dress her. A woman couldn’t be properly attired unless her dressmaker made a thorough study of how she moved. Unfortunately, so few dressmakers took the time for such minute details. This young woman, with the uncertain way she moved and her hesitant steps, could be no one but Jane.
Nan raised her hand in greeting. Even if she thoroughly disliked John, at least she liked his sister.
“Nan! Hello!” Jane’s voice carried over the moor. “Wait for me.”
Nan nodded and stood still so Jane could come closer. She bore Jane no ill will, despite John’s stupidity. She seemed a genuinely sweet person—a little like Becky, if Becky wasn’t so dreamy and romantic.
“Oh, I am so glad to find you,” Jane panted when she got within speaking distance. “I was hoping to today. I thought for certain you would be in the shop.”
“I just came out here for a few moments, on my way to the bakery.” Guilt gave Nan a twinge. She was, after all, supposed to be working on a bonnet—or at the very least, a sketch—for Jane. She was not supposed to be moping about just because some thoughtless young buck hurt her feelings.
“Well, I wanted to stop and ask if you had considered my brother’s offer. Not, of course, the offer everyone thought he was making.” Jane’s cheeks flooded with color and she seized Nan’s arm. “I am so very sorry about that,” she whispered. “Sometimes I think John has the manners of a pig.”
“Oh, I’ve met some swine who could school your brother in etiquette,” Nan replied drily.
Jane’s eyes grew sadder and she shook her head. “I can’t think of what to say. Let me beg your forgiveness, once more, on his behalf.”
Nan gave Jane a halfhearted smile. No need for her to continue apologizing, when it wasn’t her fault. John had said he was sorry, and made such an uproar, that she really didn’t want to hear any more on the matter. In fact, she would stop brooding about it altogether, starting now. There was no need to be so missish, for it was a simple mistake, after all.
“I was only teasing.” Nan shrugged off Jane’s hold. “It was nothing, I assure you.”
“Oh, good,” Jane breathed, her pretty face relaxing. “So, will you consider John’s idea? Will you come with us, and act as my personal seamstress? I won’t feel half so scared if you are there helping me.”
“I hadn’t really thought of his proposal in detail.” Now that John had offered her more than she’d ever hoped for, she didn’t know what to do. It had been far easier to focus on her hurt feelings than on the hope of financial security. “I don’t know how I would manage with the shop.”
“My brother would, I am certain, help with that,” Jane offered. She smiled tentatively. “Of course, I can understand why you wouldn’t want to leave. For one thing, with your own store, you have new things to do every day, and new people to talk to. If you were just designing clothes for me, you would be stuck with me, boring as I am.” She gave a halfhearted laugh that tugged at Nan’s heartstrings.
“Believe me, my career is much less exciting than you imagine.” Nan sighed. “Women out here have a tendency to order the same thing over and over. So I have developed ways to make it more interesting. I found a method to weave straw so it’s stronger. My bonnets hold up very well against Tansley weather. But that’s something I had to come to, not the other way around.”
“I can well understand that,” Jane agreed. “I suppose there isn’t as much call for, say, ostrich plumes and velvet out here.”
“Yes. I schooled myself to learn to love and appreciate the most simple and basic of bonnets, because they truly are the backbone of my store,” Nan agreed.
Jane slipped her arm through Nan’s elbow, and began guiding her back down the hill. Nan allowed herself to be tugged along. It was strange for Jane to lead rather than follow; based on the very little she knew of Jane’s personality, she was not strong willed like Susannah—much more likely to go along with things than take the lead. At the foot of the hill, Jane paused, studying the view.
“It’s so beautiful here. Rather like home.”
Nan nodded, silently. She wasn’t as enamored of sweeping vistas as Becky, but anyone could appreciate this view. The sun was gaining its summit in the sky, and a fresh cool breeze rustled the long moor grass.
“I don’t ever want to leave the country. I don’t understand why my brother insists on it.”
