“Reverend Basingstoke is the chaperone,” said her father, looking affronted. “I do not think much can happen under the eagle eye of the good vicar, Richard.” He paused. “And your late mother was always involved in the Christmas pantomime.”
“Yes, but she did notactin them,” countered Richard, frowning. “She was a benevolent presence, assisting the production, but she never lowered herself to performance. Perhaps it is not quite the proper thing for a lady, Papa.”
Evelina had gasped. “It is halfway through the rehearsals, Richard. Far too late to leave the production, even if I wished to, which I do not. It would ruin the pantomime.” She turned to her father. “Please, Papa. This is ridiculous. I cannot let people down like that.”
“You may continue with the pantomime, Evelina,” he replied in a terse voice. “I would not dream of letting down the production. The tradition is far too important.”
There had been an awkward silence. Eventually, Evelina had just left the shop, burning with fury and humiliation, without making any of the purchases she had intended. Her day had been well and truly ruined. But the worst of it was the slight thread of fear that she felt. The way both her brother and her fiancé had fixated on Jude and the fact he had been looking through the shop window at her.
She took a deep of her wine now as she thought about it, feeling the same stab of fear she had felt yesterday. She didn’t want either of them to focus on Jude. But the way Richard had looked at her when he had questioned Jude being in the pantomime had been troubling. She glanced at him now, sitting across from her, next to Sir Henry.
Did her brother suspect that there was something between her and the new coachman, or had he just latched onto it as another way to lecture her and control her?
She was distracted from her disturbing thoughts by the arrival of the first course. Conversation was minimal while they dined. But by the time the dessert arrived, Sir Henry was slightly in his cups, ruddy faced, beaming at her across the table.
“You look lovely this evening, Lady Evelina,” he said. “And may I say that my lady wife and I are thrilled that you are joining our family.”
Evelina forced a smile onto her face. “Thank you, my lord. It is most kind of you to say that.”
“I cannot wait to start planning the wedding, my dear,” chimed in Lady Beaumont, leaning forward across the table. “I am resolved it will be the most splendid affair our local society has ever seen.”
Evelina’s blood ran cold.The wedding. She glanced quickly at her father, trying to gage his reaction. He still hadn’t told her whether he would agree to extend the engagement. She didn’t know whether he had talked with Mr. Beaumont or his parents about it. But the fact that Mr. Beaumont’s mother was speaking excitedly about planning the wedding didn’t bode well.
Her father’s face was impassive. He didn’t react at all to what Lady Beaumont had just said. But, to her horror, Richard took a sip of wine, turning and addressing their father.
“We need to announce the engagement officially,” he said in a pompous voice. “The sooner the better, in my opinion.”
“Oh, yes,” breathed Lady Beaumont, her eyes sparkling. “Shall we arrange an engagement party?” She frowned. “My calendar is too full in the lead up to Christmas to give it my full attention, but perhaps we could set a date for early in the new year, before a lot of people leave Shropshire after the festivities?”
Evelina held her breath as she waited for her father’s response. Her stomach was churning. She knew it made little difference when the betrothal was announced, for the engagement had already been brokered, but somehow it still did. The official announcement was symbolic. In Evelina’s mind, it meant that there was no turning back. Everyone would know that she was going to become Mr. Beaumont’s wife.
She knew it might not correlate, but she was also worried that if her father was pressured into announcing the betrothal, then he might also be pressured into marrying her off quickly. Her brother was chomping at the bit to get her married and out of Bosworth Manor as soon as possible.
Evelina felt sick to her stomach. And the worst of it was she had to sit here, smiling, as if this was thrilling her. As if she was the happiest lady in the world at the thought of her betrothal being announced soon and simply couldn’t wait for it to happen. She couldn’t show a sliver of her true feelings at all.
“I know,” said Richard suddenly, smiling at the group. “How about we announce it at the Christmas Eve ball?”
Evelina’s heart dropped and hit the floor. Lady Beaumont clapped her hands together with glee, beaming at Richard. Sir Henry looked pleased as well. Mr. Beaumont shrugged his shoulders, picking up his wineglass and taking a deep sip, as if it didn’t concern him in the slightest.
Evelina turned to her father. She felt so ill that she pushed her dessert away, unfinished.
Her father frowned. “I suppose it would be a good opportunity,” he said thoughtfully. “The ball is a celebration, after all, and there will be so many people gathered here.” He smiled sadly. “I think my dear late wife would approve.”
Evelina sat there, stunned, as the table erupted in clapping. Desperately, she tried to keep the tears at bay, digging her fingernails into her lap beneath the table. She didn’t trust herself to speak or to look at anyone for fear she would burst into noisy tears, wailing like a banshee.
It was done. The betrothal was going to be announced at the Christmas Eve ball, and she could almost see the chance of a long engagement slipping away with it.
Her heart filled with utter dread. Richard would press her father to marry her off quickly as soon as the betrothal was announced. And almost the worst of it was the fact that she had been so looking forward to the ball. She had been working so hard on the preparation for it. She had been so excited.
Just today, she had spoken with a local sculptor about making a massive ice carving as a centrepiece. They had discussed various Christmas inspired ideas for it, before Evelina had settled upon a Christmas angel with majestic wings. The thought of it had filled her with excitement and joy, imagining the looks on people’s faces as they entered the house and saw it.
And now, all that excitement and anticipation drained away in an instant. She wasn’t looking forward to the ball any longer. In fact, she was dreading it. She had been counting down the days but now it would be as if she were marking time until her execution, until the moment that Mr. Beaumont claimed her as his in front of all their families and friends and the community at large.
She wanted to get up from the table and run as fast and as far away as she could. She wanted to find Jude and bury her head into his chest and weep. She wanted to hear his gentle words of comfort, even as he knew that it was doomed between them, that it had always been doomed. Just as she did.
But she didn’t do that. How could she?
Instead, she forced a smile onto her face, trying to look as if she trulywasthe happiest woman in the world. She sought to look like a woman with her whole life stretched out ahead of her, full of joy and happiness, instead of a broken woman.