A Practical Partnership. Lily George
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practiced look at her friend. Why had Jane taken her violin with her on a social call?
“I see,” she said softly. “You’ve only been here a few weeks. I am glad to hear you’ve made good friends, even in that short of an amount of time. Is it difficult to leave Kellridge?”
“I find it hard to leave.” Jane’s dark eyes flashed and she pursed her lips. “I haven’t met any families as congenial as those here in Tansley. I am sure the questionable delights of London will pale in comparison.”
Nan smiled, even as she was heartily confused by Jane’s vehemence. What families had Jane visited? Hadn’t she been here mere weeks—a very short time to form such a strong connection to someone? There was no one nearby except for a few families who resided on small farms on the outskirts of the village. She had made bonnets for the women of these houses for a while now, but she didn’t recall any of them as being particularly pleasant.
“Well, I am glad to see you found friends who share your taste in music,” Nan replied, for wont of something more intelligent to say.
Jane threaded her arm through Nan’s and began guiding them through the valley path toward Kellridge. She had a remarkably good grasp of the terrain, almost as though this rocky little valley was familiar to her. Nan had lived in Tansley for years, traversing this path often on her way to Kellridge from the shop, and she was far from being as nimble as Jane.
“Hmm.” Jane murmured in a distracted fashion.
They fell silent for a few moments as Jane led them over the side of the hill and up to the plateau that stretched toward Kellridge. Nan caught her breath as she looked at the large stone manor house. What a lovely place it was, and how fortunate Becky was to be mistress of all that grandeur. Becky’s place in life was now secure, and she could do as she pleased. She had a husband who adored her, a baby on the way, a stepniece who thought of her as a mother and a grand home filled with servants.
It was difficult indeed to swallow the bitterness rising in her throat.
Never mind. Once she was secure in her own right, she could afford to be happy for her sister. For now, and only to herself, she thought it a terrible injustice that she should be so shut out of the loveliness and happiness life had to offer.
As they paused for a moment on the brink of the plateau, Jane snapped out of her reverie. “Nan, do you know the Holdcroft family?”
Nan stuffed her jealousy back down deep inside. “Yes, I believe so. Mrs. Hugh Holdcroft is a customer of mine. I delivered a new spring bonnet to her just recently.”
“Remarkable people, the Holdcrofts. Very old English family.” Jane turned to her, giving a sweet, and slightly sad, smile. “Of course, they don’t have the wealth they used to command. They are farmers now, even though in previous generations they were quite well-to-do.”
“Unfortunately, that happens often in families.” Nan shrugged. “My sisters and I were wealthy until my uncle Arthur spent all of our money. Well, that’s not true. He didn’t spend it as much as he lost it at the gaming tables.”
Jane gasped. “How horrible! Were you able to save anything?”
“My sister had enough money left to purchase the shop in the village, but since then we have supported ourselves.” It was difficult not to sound boastful, but what the Siddonses had accomplished with such limited means was worthy of pride. “Poverty is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I think people should be more concerned with how they treat others, especially those they consider beneath themselves, than about the balance on their ledger books.”
“That is brilliantly put.” Jane clapped her hands. “I must say I agree with you. The Holdcrofts are quite an amazing family. I wish you knew them better.”
“I do, too,” Nan replied, but her mind was focused more upon leaving Tansley than on getting to know the other villagers better. Funny, though she and Jane walked side by side and even arm in arm, they seemed to be on completely different paths. While she was ready to push forward, toward Kellridge and her new future, Jane was lingering on the past and on the friends she’d made in Tansley. “Come, let us hurry. If we don’t arrive at Kellridge on time, I am sure to endure a scolding from Susy. She is quite a stickler for punctuality.”
Jane nodded in agreement, and the two of them quickened their steps, arriving at the front portico out of breath and red-faced. The butler showed them in with a bemused glance at their windblown locks and pinkened cheeks.
As Nan entered the drawing room, a tingling feeling shot up her spine. John must be here. She glanced around casually and spotted him in the corner, speaking with Paul and Daniel. She dropped her gaze again. She’d managed to avoid John almost completely since slapping him a few weeks ago. All of her arrangements had been made with Jane, for after all, she was going for Jane’s benefit.
“About time you two arrived,” Susannah scolded from her place on the settee. “I was beginning to worry about both of you.”
Nan kissed her sister’s cheek. How nice it would be to be on her own, and once in a while, be late if she had the inclination or the need. “Our apologies. I nearly fell headfirst down a valley. Fortunately, Jane rescued me.”
Neither sister seemed particularly concerned with her brush with death. They merely greeted Jane and then turned assessing eyes toward her.
Becky patted the settee cushion beside her. “Come, sit.”
Nan obediently sat, while Jane walked across the room to chat with her brother.
Nan fiddled with the banding on her sleeve. She was now imprisoned between her two sisters, one of whom had grown quite large during her pregnancy. She had to sit with her elbows pinned against her sides to avoid hitting either of them.
“Now, before you leave, we both have some advice for you,” Susannah began in the tone of voice that usually indicated a lecture was at hand.
Nan stifled a groan and flicked a glance over at her traveling companions. Jane and John were both laughing, and Paul and Daniel seemed to be caught up in telling a lively story. Everyone seemed to be enjoying each other’s company immensely, and none of them made a move to leave.
“Now, when you are employed by someone outside of our family, you must remember to temper your blunt ways,” Susannah admonished. “Many’s the time that you’ve hurt our feelings with your plain talk. Remember that another employer—a stranger, to be perfectly frank—might not be so understanding or forgiving.”
“I wouldn’t say the Reeds are strangers—” Nan began.
“Well, they aren’t well-known to us. Not like Paul was, when Becky began working for him.” Susannah gave an irritated twitch of her shoulders. “So heed what I say, Nan. Please temper your words.”
“I shall.” Much of her bluntness over the years had been developed as a shield—a way to deflect the criticism of her elder sisters. In some ways, too, it had been used as a sword. After all, someone had to cut through Becky’s romanticism or to pierce Susannah’s vanity. The only way the Siddonses had survived—and thrived—was by gathering their strengths together while breaking down one another’s weaknesses. So it stood to reason that, deprived of her sisters’ annoying habits, she would find little need to be abrupt.
“But even as you work on supporting yourself, on striking out on your own—leave room in your heart for love,” Becky added, fanning herself lightly. “I was so certain that love had left me behind that day when Lieutenant Walker jilted me. Now I know that I was made for Paul.”
Nan resisted the urge to roll her eyes. After John’s supposed proposal had gone so hideously awry, she had felt no desire for romance for quite some time. Leave that to the very young and the very pretty. Of which she never felt a part.
Would they ever leave? She shifted slightly on the settee—not that there was that much room—and fought the desire to give way to nervous pacing. As she moved, she caught John’s glance from across the sitting room. The corners