After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(103)
As Oliver looked around the small church, he knew in that moment that Reverend Gilmore was right. He’d never embraced God fully, but ever since Harriet had stormed into his life, God seemed to be making it clear that it was past time Oliver set aside his materialistic, and somewhat unfulfilling, life and begin down a path that would draw him closer to God. He needed to begin helping other people with the fortune he’d been blessed to make, instead of centering his every thought on matters that weren’t important in the end.
Closing his eyes, he prayed—not just saying the prayers he repeated in church every time he went but truly opening himself up for the first time in his life. He first gave thanks for the many, many blessings he had, but then he asked for forgiveness for his many trespasses, and then . . . he asked for guidance and God’s help in allowing him to know what to do in regard to Harriet.
How much time passed, Oliver really couldn’t say, but he remained in prayer until a sense of happiness mixed with peace settled deep in his soul. Opening his eyes, he found his grandfather and Reverend Gilmore sitting with their eyes closed, so he waited for them to finish their own prayers before he smiled at them. “Gentlemen, I do believe I’ve just been granted the supreme gift of seeing the error of my ways, but it might take a miracle to convince Harriet I’m a changed man. Would either of you have any suggestions on how I should go about convincing her she’s more important to me than the sum total of all my money, without having her come to the immediate conclusion I’ve lost my mind?”
“I cannot believe how many gowns you managed to stash away here,” Lucetta said as she dumped another armload of gowns onto the receiving room floor of the apartment Harriet and her friends had once called home. “And I didn’t even know we had an attic.”
Harriet paused in her task of sorting and grinned. “I discovered that last year when Reverend Gilmore received all of those gowns from some elderly lady’s estate and didn’t know what to do with them. Mrs. Palmer saw me carting them up the steps, and she very kindly followed me and showed me the attic.” She shook her head. “She also charged me five dollars to use the space for a year, even though both of us knew perfectly well that sum was outrageous since the attic was sitting there unused.”
“I’ll miss Mrs. Palmer, in a strange sort of way,” Millie said. “She’s always so nosy, but I must admit I found that somewhat endearing.”
Lucetta plopped down on top of a pile of dresses. “Abigail is far nosier than Mrs. Palmer, so I don’t believe you’re going to have to worry about not having someone watching your every move.”
“You and Millie have decided to take Abigail up on her offer of permanently moving in with her?”
Lucetta nodded. “She has that big old house all to herself, except for the servants, of course. I couldn’t refuse her offer, especially when she got a little teary-eyed. She’s been alone for far too long. Millie and I have been without any type of motherly figure for what seems like forever. Well, in Millie’s case it was forever, so . . . our living with Abigail will benefit all of us. Although, I will admit I’m a little wary of Abigail and her plotting.”
“It’ll be interesting to see who she tries to get settled next,” Millie added. “But, I don’t think Lucetta and I are going to be nearly as exciting as you’ve been, Harriet. Honestly, finding out you’re a lady . . . It’s very odd.” She sent Harriet a cheeky grin. “I keep wondering if I should curtsy to you every time you enter a room.”
“I would have to hurt you if you did.”
Lucetta hauled herself up from the stack of dresses and moved over to Harriet, sinking down beside her on the floor. “Are you sure this is what you want to do—move to England?”
“I need to spend time with my family.”
“What about all this?” Lucetta asked with a gesture to the stacks and stacks of gowns.
Millie tossed aside the hat she was perusing and came to join them, plopping down with a poof of her skirt. “Harriet doesn’t need to earn a living anymore. She’s rich.”
A twinge of something peculiar swept over Harriet. She still hadn’t grasped the reality of what came with suddenly finding out she was a member of the aristocracy, and the daughter of a duke. Victoria had explained in some detail what being a lady entailed, but quite frankly, the more Victoria had explained, the queasier Harriet had begun to feel.
She would be presented to the queen, which meant she was looking at months of preparations. Then she’d be brought out at a special ball her parents would host for her and . . . Victoria had been completely delighted to inform her that gentlemen from across England would flock to make her acquaintance.
She didn’t want to make any gentleman’s acquaintance, because . . .
No, she was not going to think about Oliver.
She’d made her decision, and it was the right decision, but . . . even though God had blessed her with one of the greatest blessings of all—a family to call her own—her heart was a little heavy.
“Speaking of riches,” she said in an effort to drive away her pesky thoughts, “I’ve got something for the two of you.” She struggled to her feet and hurried down the short hallway, entering the kitchen a second later. Walking over to the battered kitchen table, she rummaged through the hats and ribbons stacked on it until she finally found her reticule. Taking out the bills Oliver had given her to buy clothing, she rejoined her friends. “I’d like the two of you to have this money I got from Oliver. He refused to take it back from me, but it would ease my mind knowing you two have a bit of a cushion in case anything of a dastardly nature occurs to either of you while I’m all the way across the ocean.”