It Happened One Autumn (Wallflowers #2)(20)

“Where is Mr. Hunt?” Lillian asked Annabelle.

Annabelle smiled faintly at the mention of her husband. “I suspect he’s visiting with the earl and a few of their friends.” Her gaze sharpened as she caught sight of Evie. “There is Evie—and fortunately Aunt Florence doesn’t seem to be hovering over her as usual.”

Waiting alone, her absent gaze fixed on a gold-framed landscape painting, Evie seemed lost in private contemplation. Her shrinking posture was that of an apologetic cipher…it was clear that she did not feel herself to be part of the gathering, nor did she wish to be. Although no one ever seemed to look long enough at Evie to really notice her, she was actually quite beautiful—perhaps even more so than Annabelle—but in a completely unconventional way. She was freckled and red-haired, with large, round blue eyes and a mobile, full-lipped mouth that was utterly out of fashion. Her well-endowed figure was breathtaking, though the excessively modest gowns she was compelled to wear were distinctly unflattering. Moreover, her slump-shouldered posture did little to advertise her attractions.

Stealing forward, Lillian startled Evie by grasping her gloved hand and tugging her away. “Come,” she whispered.

Evie’s eyes lit with gladness at the sight of her. She hesitated and glanced uncertainly at her aunt, who was talking with some dowagers in the corner. Ascertaining that Florence was too absorbed in her conversation to notice, the four girls slipped from the parlor and hurried down the hallway like escaping prisoners. “Where are we going?” Evie whispered.

“The back terrace,” Annabelle replied.

They went to the rear of the house and exited through a row of French doors that opened onto a broad flagstoned terrace. Stretching the entire length of the house, the terrace overlooked the extensive gardens below. It looked like a scene from a painting, with orchards and beautifully kept walks and beds of rare flowers leading to the forest, while the Itchen River flowed below a nearby bluff that was defined by an ironstone wall.

Lillian turned toward Evie and hugged her. “Evie,” she exclaimed, “I’ve missed you so! If you only knew of all the ill-conceived rescue plans we thought of to steal you away from your family. Why won’t they let any of us come to visit you?”

“Th-they despise me,” Evie said in a muffled voice. “I never realized h-how much until recently. It started when I tried to see my father. After they caught me, they locked me in my room for days, with h-hardly any food or water. They said I was ungrateful, and disobedient, and that my bad blood had finally risen to the fore. To them I’m n-nothing but a dreadful mistake that my mother made. Aunt Florence says it is my fault that she’s dead.”

Shocked, Lillian drew back to look at her. “She told you that? In those words?”

Evie nodded.

Without thinking, Lillian let out a few curse words that caused Evie to blanch. One of Lillian’s more questionable accomplishments was the ability to swear as fluently as a sailor, acquired from much time spent with her grandmother, who had worked as a washwoman at the harbor docks.

“I know that it’s not tr-true,” Evie murmured. “I mean, m-my mother did die in labor, but I know that it wasn’t my fault.”

Keeping one arm around Evie’s shoulders, Lillian walked with her to a nearby table on the terrace, while Annabelle and Daisy followed. “Evie, what can be done to get you away from those people?”

The girl shrugged helplessly. “My father is s-so ill. I’ve asked him if I could come to live with him, but he refuses. And he is too weak to keep my mother’s family fr-from coming to take me back with them.”

All four girls were silent for a moment. The unpleasant reality was that even though Evie was of an age to leave her family’s custody voluntarily, an unmarried woman was in a precarious position. Evie would not inherit her fortune until her father’s death, and in the meantime, she had no means to support herself.

“You can come live with me and Mr. Hunt at the Rutledge,” Annabelle said suddenly, her voice filled with quiet determination. “My husband won’t let anyone take you away if you don’t wish it. He’s a powerful man, and—”

“No.” Evie was shaking her head before Annabelle had finished the sentence. “I would n-never do that to you…the imposition would be so…oh, never. And surely you must know how odd it w-would appear…the things that would be said…” She shook her head helplessly. “I’ve been considering something …my aunt Florence had an idea that I sh-should marry her son. Cousin Eustace. He’s not a bad man…and it would allow me to live away from my other relatives…”

Annabelle’s nose wrinkled. “Hmm. I know that’s still done nowadays, first cousins marrying, but it does seem a bit incestuous, doesn’t it? Any blood relation at all just seems so…ugh.”

“Wait a minute,” Daisy said suspiciously, coming to Lillian’s side. “We’ve met Evie’s cousin Eustace before. Lillian, do you remember the ball at Winterbourne House?” Her eyes narrowed accusingly. “He was the one who broke the chair, wasn’t he, Evie?”

Evie confirmed Daisy’s question with an inarticulate murmur.

“Good God!” Lillian exclaimed, “you are not considering marrying him, Evie!”

Annabelle wore a puzzled expression. “How did he break the chair? Does he have a foul temper? Did he throw it?”