Название: The Matrimony Plan
Автор: Christine Johnson
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Исторические любовные романы
isbn: 9781408951446
isbn:
Felicity bore the lecture with bated breath, waiting for the worst to fall, but when Mother failed to mention anything about the train station or Daddy finding her with Gabriel Meeks, she relaxed.
“Thank goodness you have me to look out for your best interests,” Mother sniffed. “Change out of that filthy gown and try to make yourself presentable. We’re having a guest for dinner.”
A little knot formed in Felicity’s stomach. “A guest?” It had to be the new minister. Oh, how could she endure an evening with Gabriel Meeks? Daddy was bound to make a joke about finding them together. Mother would be horrified when she found out. Somehow she had to stop this dinner party. “Who’s coming?”
Mother ignored her question. “I wonder if he has Newport connections.”
“Newport?” Felicity gasped. “That’s not possible.” He was dressed too plainly to come from money, especially that kind of money. If only he didn’t have such a welcoming smile and warm brown eyes. The mere thought of him sent that peculiar hot and cold shiver through her again.
“Of course it’s possible. A man with his status could easily summer amongst the social elite. Hmm.” Mother surveyed her closet. “Nothing too fine in case he isn’t from proper society yet expensive enough to impress him if he is. Wear the pale green organdy.” She tossed the gown on the bed. “Traditional. You can’t go wrong with that.”
“Yes Mother.” It was always best to agree with Mother, especially when a greater concession was needed. “In fact, let’s put off the dinner until we know for certain.”
“Put it off?” Eugenia Kensington glared at her. “You can’t withdraw an invitation.” She pulled a pearl necklace from Felicity’s jewelry box and draped it around the neck of the dress. “Pearls will do quite nicely. I expect you downstairs by six o’clock. Try to display some of the social graces we paid for so dearly. Mr. Blevins might prove worth the effort.”
“M-Mr. Blevins?” Felicity stammered.
“Of course, Mr. Blevins. Who did you think I was talking about?”
Felicity averted her gaze, not wanting her mother to see that she’d been thinking about Gabriel.
Robert Blevins was coming to dinner. After such a disastrous day, she just might be able to salvage her plan. With any luck, she’d capture his affection before he learned about this afternoon’s fiasco.
Nothing about this first day had gone the way Gabriel anticipated. He came to Pearlman expecting a country church filled with salt of the earth, hardworking folk who would appreciate a down-to-earth sermon and a pastor who worked alongside them. The inequities and misery of the city wouldn’t exist here—no divide between rich and poor, colored and white, immigrant and citizen, and no stifling poverty or raging crime. The stains of abuse, liquor and hunger wouldn’t exist. In Pearlman, he could lead a church that would reach out to the sick and poor, taking them in and nurturing them into strong God-fearing people. It was the mission of his friend Mr. Isaacs’s Orphaned Children’s Society, and Gabriel planned to make it his own.
Today that idyllic image went right out the window.
The ladies at the meeting had pushed daughter after hapless daughter before him, but the only woman who’d touched his heart was proud and rich.
Then there was the parsonage. Instead of simplicity, he stood in a huge, two-story house large enough for a family of eight. The gleaming cherry Chippendale-style dining set and electric lighting looked to be recent installments, whereas the indoor plumbing had been in place for years judging by the mineral stains on the porcelain. The marble-topped sideboard and brocade-upholstered wingback chairs reeked of money. This was not a parsonage; it was a palace.
“Had my man put your trunk upstairs,” Branford Kensington said as he opened yet another door. This one led to a handsome library and study. “Encyclopedia, concordance and the Bible in the proper translation.” The man blustered around the room like a bull moose. “Of course there’s room for your books—” he patted the one empty shelf “—though judging by the size of your trunk, you won’t need all this space.” He laughed at his own joke.
Gabriel swallowed his irritation. “I guess you’re correct there.” He’d only brought the necessities, not wanting to put off any of the congregation with his upper-class background.
“I’ll give you until six o’clock and then send Smithson down. Come on up to the big house for dinner. Consider it a standing invitation until your housekeeper arrives.”
“Housekeeper? I don’t—” Gabriel started to correct him, but Kensington had already moved on.
“Fenced yard was installed some years back for Reverend Johanneson. He had four children and thought it would keep them out of mischief.” He chuckled at the memory. “Land goes clear to the river.”
Gabriel peered through the crystal-clear kitchen window. “It’s a fine piece of land.”
“Yes, it is.” Kensington stuck out his hand. “Well son, I’ll leave you to settle in. Smithson’ll be here with the car at six sharp.”
Gabriel blanched at being driven by a chauffeur. People would talk. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’d rather spend a quiet night.”
“Nonsense. My wife will have my head if you don’t come.”
Gabriel hesitated. An evening with Branford and Eugenia Kensington promised to try the patience of a saint. He’d barely made it through the Ladies’ Aid Society meeting.
“You’ll want to check on Felicity,” Kensington noted with a wink, “to see if she’s recovered.”
Memories of her flooded back: eyes the color of watercress and an elegance seldom seen in small towns. If Gabriel was honest with himself, he did want to see her. “Six o’clock?”
“I’ll send the car.”
Gabriel shook his head. “I prefer to walk. Just give me the address and point the way.”
“Walk, eh?” Kensington eyed him with what seemed to be new respect. “Physical exertion builds a man’s character. I recall my trek up Kilimanjaro in 1898—”
“Thank you, sir.” Gabriel was too tired for a lengthy story. “The address?”
“Oh, ahem.” Kensington cleared his throat. “Naturally you’ll want to freshen up first. It’s the big Federal on top of the hill. Can’t miss it. Twin lions at the head of the drive.” He nodded slightly and took his leave.
The house quieted after Kensington left. Gabriel drank in the solitude, spending time in prayer while he unpacked. As he half filled two of the bureau’s four large drawers, he wondered if he had made a mistake coming to Pearlman. Mr. Isaacs had asked Gabriel to join him at the Orphaned Children’s Society back in New York City.
“We could use a man like you,” Isaacs had said. “You’ve volunteered here for years, and your seminary experience would be a plus. There are other places besides the ministry where you can do God’s work. You’d be a splendid agent for the children.”
As СКАЧАТЬ