Evidently mistaking her fluster for hesitation, Josephine blushed. “I’m sorry, I should not press for gossip. Mama and I are always so desperate for news of Henry’s life in London, since he writes of personal things so rarely. He knows Papa does not approve of him, and I suspect it makes him reluctant to tell us much about his life.”
Oh, how she could relate to that. Her letters to her mother were a kind of symphony of saying nothing, of quotidian details that added up to a picture so opaque she may as well have sent a dirty window.
“I don’t know if he intends to marry,” Alice said, not wishing to reveal anything he’d rather they not know. “But I’m not aware of any courtship.”
Josephine looked at her intently. “My father is hoping his visit might produce some happy news between himself and Miss Bradley-Hough.”
Oh dear. Was that why Henry had been so uncomfortable when she’d almost kissed him? She had not considered he might have feelings for another. A fresh wave of mortification clenched through her.
Henry walked towards them, looking happy and refreshed. “Thank you for coming, ladies. And for playing, Alice. My friends were so pleased.”
“It was a pleasure,” Alice said, fully meeting his eye for the first time since the night before.
He held her gaze and smiled. She tried not to wonder what it meant.
“Shall we go back for supper?” he asked.
Outside, the snow had stopped. It was a calm, cold, winter evening, the ground blanketed in white.
“It’s clearing,” Henry observed, smiling at her again, as though the previous night had never happened. “If it holds I’ll drive you home in the morning.”
“Thank you,” she said.
She did not know what else to say.
She was grateful when Josephine changed the subject to speak of local neighbors, and she could walk ahead in silence. At the house, Josephine asked if she wished to borrow another dress, and she declined.
“I am quite tired. I think I will skip the evening meal. Would you make my apologies to your mother?”
It was absurd of her, but she did not wish to watch Henry speaking to Miss Bradley-Hough, wondering if he planned to marry her. She felt sad enough as it was.
She set off for her rooms, longing for the escape of sleep.
“Mrs. Hull,” Henry called, just as she reached the staircase. She stopped and turned. He was striding quickly to catch up with her.
He smiled when he reached her. “I just wanted to say to meet me in the breakfast room at seven. We’ll take off early.”
She nodded.
He looked like he might say more, then hesitated, and turned to go.
“I wanted to say how much I enjoyed that,” she blurted to his back.
He turned around, his face a question. “Enjoyed what?”
Oh dear, she hoped he didn’t think she meant the night before. The garden.
“Your fellowship,” she said quickly. “Thank you for inviting me. It’s been ages since I’ve been in church. I never knew that it could feel like that. So peaceful.”
His entire face lit up. “I’m so very, very glad.” He paused for a moment, bit his lip, which of course made him seem younger and sweeter and … he was likely about to be engaged and he was a minister and she was wicked and she had to look away.
“I hope you don’t mind if I repeat myself,” he continued, “but you’d truly be welcome at my congregation when you return to London.”
She laughed, without thinking.
She instantly wished she hadn’t, disliking the note of bitterness she could hear in her own voice. But she was unsure how to say that she would likely not be returning to London.
“Thank you. But as I’ve said, I’m long past saving.”
Henry looked at her for a long moment without speaking. “Alice, God’s mercy is not conditional. Your profession is no hindrance, if you wish to be saved.”
She shook her head. “It has little to do with my profession.”
He looked at her so softly, his green eyes like a caress. “Why don’t you wish to go to church? What happened?”
She looked at the floor, ignoring the part of her that again wanted more, more. “Oh, everything and nothing. I won’t bore you with the tale.”
“It takes very much to bore me, Mrs. Hull. I’m quite dull by nature.”
“You are very far from dull,” she objected, finally returning his gaze. Her tone sounded a touch more sentimental than she had meant it to.
“I’m tired,” she added quickly. “I will see you in the morning.”
He nodded. “I will say my Prayer of Weather before bed and hope we can set back off tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” she said, but she walked up the stairs hoping his Prayer of Weather wouldn’t work. She should be relieved that the weather had calmed, but the lack of snow only heightened her dread.
She wished the snow might fall indefinitely.
She wished she could stay here, trapped in this frozen place where her mother lived, where the problems in the house belonged to other people, where she could sip down Henry Evesham’s private words like claret, savoring the complexities of his luminous, dark soul.
It was restful, to pretend this was her life, this blank canvas suspended in a world with no future and no past.
It was treasonous to think it, but she never wanted to go home.
Chapter 19
Henry tried not to resent Miss Bradley-Hough for not being Alice at supper.
It was not Miss Bradley-Hough’s fault that, after the short drive to Fleetwend in the morning, he would likely never see Alice again. Nor was it her fault that all he could think about was sneaking away and up to Alice’s rooms to hold her hands and pray with her. (To hold her hands.)
But he must stay, for he felt his father’s eyes on him, monitoring the currents of potential courtship like a sentry. Dutifully, Henry set out asking his companion questions about her life.
Miss Bradley-Hough was genuinely lovely. She described with charm and verve her sociable life in Bath, which sounded luxurious and pleasant, if lacking purpose. In turn, he told her of his work investigating vice and doing charity for prostitutes. She was so poised that she almost—almost—succeeded in hiding her alarm behind her gracious manners.
“Henry is nearly done with his duties to the Lords,” his father interjected. “He will soon move on to other work.”
Miss Bradley-Hough looked relieved on Henry’s behalf. “You must be ever so eager to leave such unpleasantness behind,” she said with perfect sympathy.
“No,” he said slowly. “I’ll miss it. I quite like gathering facts, meeting such different people, writing my impressions.”
In saying it, he realized it was true.
“But you will return to the church?” she pressed.
He hesitated. “My plans are as yet undetermined. I hope to expand my charity work to other cities. Make use of my findings. Whether that is through ministry or other means, I have yet to decide.”
His father glowered at him.
Henry smiled at Miss Bradley-Hough as though he did not notice. “Whatever work I do, I hope to marry soon, to find a helpmeet eager to undertake it alongside me.”