Page 26 of Discovering Grace

Although Jacob had never thought the vicar a romantic, he could not deny the way the old man’s advice settled within him. The words circled about in his mind and distracted his thoughts for the rest of the evening.

A companion of the heart. Where might one find such a thing? And how soon ought he to start searching?

Chapter 11

On the fifth day of Grace’s deception, the morning post arrived with an invitation to dine at Sir Isaac’s home the following evening. “A small dinner party,” her father said after reading the card. “I cannot imagine how Sir Isaac gets on in that tumbledown manor of his. All alone now that his sister married.” He handed the invitation to Grace across the breakfast table. “We will go, most certainly.”

“Yes, Papa. Jacob and I were discussing how lonely it must be for Isaac.” She read the brief script, obviously in Isaac’s own hand. Many in their social circle had valued the handsome baronet as a guest at their tables, even though he was something of a flirt. Then Isaac went away to war.

“I suppose coming home after so many years he has a great deal of work to busy himself.” Papa flicked open his news sheets. “And untangling that mess with his heir after the declaration of his death did not help matters.”

“I imagine not.” Grace lowered the card to the table and thrust another bite of Hope’s favored breakfast into her mouth. She had no intention of giving Cook any reason to suspect her again.

Grace, along with everyone else she knew, had mourned Isaac dreadfully when the false report of his death arrived at the very end of the war. Thankfully, he appeared alive and mostly intact shortly after the news of his demise reached them.

“Have you written your brother and sisters?” Papa glanced over the edge of his paper, his spectacles in place. “Grace became an excellent correspondent with them, and they shall miss her letters. I will send a note of my own with yours.”

Ducking her head, Grace pressed her napkin to her lips and rose. “I have not written yet, Papa, but I shall see to it this afternoon. If you will excuse me, I have more baskets to deliver today.” Sudden nervousness compelled her to move; she did not know how well her father knew her handwriting. Would he at once recognize it differed from Hope’s?

“More baskets? Hm. Yes. Good morning to you, Hope.”

“Thank you, Papa.” She darted forward to give him a kiss upon the cheek before hurrying away. She retrieved gloves, bonnet, and shawl before applying to the kitchens, where Cook had two baskets waiting for her. Apparently, her attempt to bungle everything had not impressed anyone. She hid her amusement as she ordered the baskets to be loaded in the dogcart.

In order to keep up appearances, she had to travel to the vicarage before taking her baskets where they belonged. The Wrights were expecting a new babe any day. Mr. and Mrs. Harper, an elderly couple who mended the nets of fishermen for their income, especially loved Cook’s soft bread. But Hope knew nothing of those families and their needs.

Grace gritted her teeth. Everything about her ruse had turned complicated as soon as her father ended her imprisonment at home. Sulking in Hope’s bedroom, while dull, would have been much easier.

A groom followed behind Esther, mounted on one of the carriage horses. He kept a respectful distance, for which she was grateful. She had no wish to make polite conversation while ruminating upon her difficulties.

Baskets to deliver to friends while acting as no more than a distant neighbor, a letter to write in another’s style, and a dinner party to attend combined to give Grace a headache. Hope’s note with word of her departure could not come soon enough.

She came to the vicarage at last. It was a large cottage, built at least three decades past, and nestled back from the road in a grove of oaks. If one walked directly through the house and out the rear door, an easy ramble of a few minutes would bring that person to a hill overlooking the sea.

After the groom assisted her in climbing down from the cart, Grace took a moment to tuck a few curls back into her bonnet. Hope’s preferred way of dressing her hair, with frills and curls aplenty, was not at all practical for such an errand as this. Yet what was she to do? Insist Susan do her hair in Grace’s usual manner? Pretending to be someone else was tiresome.

The door to the vicarage opened nearly the same moment she raised her hand to knock. Startled, she took a step back when she realized the person on the other side was neither the vicar nor his servant.

“Jacob.” She blurted his name, then bit her bottom lip.

“Miss Everly.” His formal tone gave her pause, but he spoke before she might question him. “I saw you come down the lane. Mr. Spratt said you are to take baskets to a few of our neighbors?”

“Yes.” Grace tucked one hand behind her back, as she had when caught in mischief as a child. Jacob certainly stared at her as though she had done something which merited greater scrutiny than normal.

Though Jacob opened his mouth to make a response, Mr. Spratt’s voice was the next she heard.

“Ah, Miss Everly. I am glad you have a fine morning for your ride.” Jacob stepped aside, revealing the elderly vicar standing a pace behind him.

“It is a very fine day, Mr. Spratt.” Grace met the kindly smile of the vicar with one of her own. “I hope this weather finds you well, sir.”

“It does indeed. I came home from my own morning walk but moments ago. Yet I fear I ventured too far in my enjoyment of the day. This old body does not get around as easily as it once did.” He lowered his head a trifle and released a tired sigh. “I am afraid I cannot accompany you as I did last time.”

That considerably lifted Grace’s spirits. Being observed by a man who had known her and Hope since infancy, and lying about who she was under the nose of the vicar, had made her previous visit almost impossible to bear.

“That is a shame, Mr. Spratt.” Did she sound sorrowful enough? Likely not. And surely there would be some great, eternal penalty for deceiving a man of God. Yet how could she do otherwise? Switching places with Hope, accepting her father’s sentence to sail far from home, had been out of the question.

“I think it best that Mr. Barnes go with you.” Mr. Spratt came forward and put his hand to Jacob’s arm. “It will be his place to make such visits in the near future, and he knows the business well enough.”

Jacob’s eyes bulged a moment, then went back to normal as he made his hasty agreement. “Indeed, Miss Everly, I would be delighted to accompany you. But are you certain you can do without me this morning, Mr. Spratt? I have only just arrived, after all, and we have not done any work.”