The Matrimony Plan. Christine Johnson

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      So her name was Felicity, meaning great happiness or bliss. Never had a name flowed so beautifully nor fit so poorly. This Felicity looked anything but happy. The only time she’d shown a glimpse of joy was when she chased the dog. Too bad it had vanished so quickly. Beautiful yet unhappy—how often Gabriel had seen that painful combination. He brushed a strand of silken hair from her eyes.

      Kensington cleared his throat. “Pastor?”

      He shouldn’t have done that. “I, uh, did you find any smelling salts?”

      Kensington grinned beneath his mustache. “No, but she’s coming to, just like I said she would.”

      The man was right. Felicity’s face had regained some color, and her eyelids opened, revealing splendid green eyes.

      She flinched as if alarmed to see him and looked around. “Daddy? Wh-what happened?”

      Disappointment knifed through Gabriel.

      “You fainted, little one.” Kensington knelt beside his daughter, gently helping her to a sitting position.

      His love for her was evident. She was cherished, the prize of his life, and completely spoiled. Such women brought nothing but trouble. Gabriel was better off without her.

      “Can you stand?” Kensington asked her. “We need to get the pastor to the Ladies’ Aid Society meeting.”

      Gabriel gulped. The Ladies’ Aid Society? He’d never been privy to that sacred enclave, but he’d heard tales. If the stories were correct, the ladies would have his entire life laid out for public display before the end of the afternoon. With any luck, that dissection would not include Felicity Kensington.

      Felicity convinced Daddy to take her home. She couldn’t face Mother and the Ladies’ Aid Society, not in front of Gabriel.

      Gabriel. Why did he have to be so handsome? She pressed into the dark corner of the Packard’s rear seat and watched him talk to Daddy. If he was nervous, he didn’t show it. She could grudgingly admire that quality. Most men cowered before her father.

      But why had she agreed to see him again? She’d never be able to explain that to Mother, and it would ruin everything with Mr. Blevins.

      Daddy stopped the car at the front door, and she scurried into the house before Gabriel could set a date. She slammed the solid oak door shut and leaned against its cool surface, but mere wood couldn’t quench the fire inside. Before Smithson or the cook or one of the other servants appeared, she retreated to the sanctity of her room and prepared a cold compress. She pressed it to her blazing cheeks, but even icy water couldn’t suppress the wild emotions.

      A minister—she had been attracted to a minister. Not to say that there was anything wrong with the ministry but it just wasn’t for her. She had to marry wealth and privilege. She had to find a man who lived far from Pearlman if she ever hoped to escape Mother.

      She unpinned the useless chignon and let her hair fall free. How could she have been so mistaken? He clearly wasn’t socially prominent—the dusty shoes, the rolled-up sleeves. But what pastor walked around so informally dressed? And with a Ladies’ Aid Society meeting to attend? Mother would tear him to pieces.

      For a minute, she felt sorry for him. The ladies would gasp when he walked in, and Mother…well, no one should have to face that icy stare. Oh, Mother would speak with artificial politeness, but behind every word would be a barb, and at the next Church Council meeting, she’d petition for his removal. Poor Gabriel.

      Poor Gabriel? What was she thinking? She’d promised to see him. Mother would have a conniption when she found out.

      Felicity gnawed on her nails. Why had the church council hired a minister just out of school? There must have been older, better qualified pastors available, but no, they’d hired someone young and inexperienced and, well, handsome. Those curls, the twinkle in his eye, the hint of mischief… just thinking about him made her cheeks heat.

      She dipped the compress in cold water, squeezed and re-applied.

      His face had been the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes, and his concern had nearly melted her to the spot. She had to look away.

      At first she’d been confused. How had she gotten on the ground? She didn’t feel any bruises or bumps, so someone must have caught her when she fainted. She prayed it was Daddy. Just the thought of Gabriel holding her sent hot shivers from her head to her toes.

      There’d be no escaping the man or the rumors that would connect them. Practically the whole town had seen them together today including the Billingsley boy who clerked at the mercantile and Mrs. Evans. Felicity sucked in her breath. Mrs. Evans would tell everyone. All of Pearlman would know by tomorrow.

      The trail of witnesses didn’t stop at the mercantile. Anyone at the businesses between the store and the train depot could have spotted them together, not to mention people on the street. And then there was the depot.

      Her stomach flip-flopped. Maybe she was ill. Typhoid, influenza or scarlet fever would be better than facing the ridicule. Even Eloise Grattan, whose parents couldn’t buy her a beau, would snicker. And Sally Neidecker would lord it over her.

      She groaned and sandwiched her head between two pillows. She could hear her childhood schoolmates now. Felicity and Gabriel, sweet as can be. Every childhood rhyme taunted her, each worse than the other. She needed to marry but not someone who would keep her in Pearlman the rest of her life.

      What would Mother do when she found out? Felicity tossed the compress in her sink and paced back and forth across the room. Her mother would lecture and impose restrictions: no unsupervised walks, no unsupervised anything. How could Felicity meet the real Robert Blevins with Mother hounding her every move? It was terrible, horrible, the worst possible thing that could have happened.

      She wrung out the compress, plopped on the bed again and pressed the cloth tight to her eyes. She needed a plan. A new plan, a better plan, one that could not fail.

      The front door slammed. Mother. When that was followed by the strident ringing of the bell, she popped out of bed and re-pinned her chignon. A lady never has a hair out of place.

      “Felicity,” Mother called out. “We need to talk.”

      She knew. Daddy must have told her what had happened at the train station. Maybe Gabriel had spilled the whole story at the meeting. They’d doubtless had a jolly laugh over her while they sipped tea and downed Mrs. Simmons’s shortbread cookies.

      Felicity tucked the last loose strand in place as Mother climbed the stairs. Thump. Thump. For such a small woman, Mother had a heavy step.

      How could Felicity explain her reaction to Gabriel?

      Thump. Thump. Mother’s steps matched Felicity’s heartbeat.

      Heels clattered down the hallway.

       Think.

      “Felicity?” Mother threw open the door, her expression grim.

      Too late. Felicity tried to swallow but her throat was dry. “What?” The word was barely audible.

      “I told you not to walk СКАЧАТЬ