Page 11 of Discovering Grace

Though he went to see Mr. Spratt, Jacob’s thoughts remained on the Everly household and his two friends. Hopefully, with their change in plans, he would not be alone in the vicarage for long.

Chapter 5

The clock in the hall chimed the hour, and Grace counted each note carefully. After the twelfth bell, she slipped from her bed and wrapped her favorite green shawl around her. She did not bother with house slippers, as she did not have far to go. Hope’s room was just across the hall. She did not take a candle with her either, given her familiarity with the house and the clandestine mission she undertook.

Entering Hope’s room without knocking, Grace quietly padded up to the bed before she whispered, “Hope? Are you awake?”

Her sister immediately sat up. “Grace.” Her voice was muffled by tears and sorrow. “Are you all right?”

Grace crawled onto her sister’s bed and made her way to snuggle under the sheets beside her. “I am quite well, thank you. Have you been crying long?”

“Almost constantly since Mama left this morning,” Hope admitted, shifting to pull herself into a sitting position. The room was full dark; there were not even shadows to make each other out. But they were accustomed to speaking in such a way. Until they turned eighteen, they had shared a bedroom and spent many a night sitting up with each other.

“I wondered why you would not leave your room,” Grace admitted. “I have been going through what you packed all day today.” She listened to the stillness beside her, trying to measure her sister’s desperation in the way she sniffled.

“I know I keep saying it, and no one is listening anymore, but I am sorry. This is not what you wanted, Grace.” Hope’s hand sought Grace’s on the bed between them, giving it a squeeze when she found it. “It might be wonderful for you, though. And you needn’t have too many adventures if you do not wish them.”

Grace’s heart softened toward her sister and she scooted closer, wrapping Hope in an embrace. “Thank you, dear. You are kind not to be angry at me for taking your place.”

A mirthless laugh escaped Hope. “How could I be angry at you? This is all my fault. You tried to stop me, and then you did not even tell Papa. I have never seen him so upset.”

“Nor have I. But he is our father. He will be calm again soon.” Grace bit her bottom lip, her heart picking up speed. She had to present her plan before she grew too nervous. “Hope. I have an idea. I have been thinking on it since our conversation in the library. Do you remember our governess, Miss Clark?”

“How could I forget her?” Hope asked, the faintest note of surprise in her words. She leaned back against her headboard, necessitating that Grace do the same. “She was excessively amusing. She never could tell us apart. Remember when we would purposefully switch places to confuse her all the more?”

“I would wear your hair ribbons and you would wear mine,” Grace answered. “That was your idea. Remember?”

“No, but it sounds like something I would think of.” Hope heaved a deep sigh. “It wasn’t that brilliant a trick. Not very many people know how to tell us apart when we are dressed similarly. Only our brother and sisters, Mama, and Papa—”

“If Papa has his spectacles on.” Grace’s heart pounded all the harder. “And he loses them a great deal.”

“I suppose.” Hope’s words came out slowly, uncertainly.

“Hope,” Grace said, lowering her voice and attempting to sound earnest. “I would rather do just about anything than set sail for the West Indies. And you would do almost anything to get that chance back, would you not?”

Quiet blanketed the room for what felt like an age, but Grace waited. Her sister would know what she meant. If Hope agreed with the plan, she would say so. If not, they would speak no more of it. But, oh, how much Grace wanted to stay home where all things were safe and familiar.

Finally, the words came, hissed out quietly. “We would be caught, Grace.”

“Not for a time,” she insisted. “Mama is gone for a fortnight at least. The younger ones will not be home to give anything away, and I am quite capable of pretending to be you until you are safely sailed from London. Once you sail, it does not matter. You will be away and no one can bring you back.” Her voice rose as she spoke, eagerness coloring her words. “Think of it, Hope. All of your things are ready. Once you are at sea, you can tell Miss Carlbury. She will not give you away. She must prefer to have you on the voyage, as you will be a more animated companion than I. I will remain home, where I wish to be.”

“Papa will be so angry when he finds out.” Hope’s words were discouraging, but her tone sounded the opposite. “Does that not frighten you?”

“I can weather our father’s storm better than I can the ocean’s.” Grace spoke with more confidence than she felt. Her father’s disappointment and anger, her mother’s sorrow at her deceit, weighed on her heart. But she would pay that price when the time came most gladly. For she would still be at home when called to account. “We can switch in the morning. Come to my room, as if to help me dress. We will dismiss Susan.” The maid would think nothing of their helping one another.

“Oh, that is clever. Then I will leave as Grace, and you will remain here, pretending to be me.” Hope bounced a little as she spoke. “Do you think we can manage it? The Carlburys said they might remain in London a fortnight while they finish purchases and wait on the ship.”

They had never switched identities for longer than a day, and that had been years before, and not more than a dozen times. Yet who knew Hope better than Grace? “We will manage perfectly well.”

Suddenly, Hope’s arms were around Grace. “Thank you, Grace. I had not even considered this idea. You have saved my adventure and given me another. How will I ever repay this?”

Grace’s eyes filled with tears. “You are my best friend and my sister. I’m glad you will still have your chance at your dream.” And she was more than a touch relieved that she could remain quietly at home.

They spoke for another hour, by turns advising each other on how to behave, giggling over memories, and occasionally wiping away tears for the months ahead without each other. Before Grace crept out of the room, Hope took her hand one more time.

“The only thing I am afraid of,” Hope said in a whisper, “is being without you for so long. We cannot even write each other often. But I will write in my book for you, Grace. Every day.”

They were doing the right thing. Grace knew it, and Hope’s sweet words sealed the rightness of it in her heart. “Promise me you will be careful,” she whispered. “If you do anything dangerous and it is my fault you are there—”