Masquerade (11 page)

A deep sigh, so full and drawn-out it sounded pulled from the tips of Rachel’s toes. Then, an almost imperceptible nod. She reclaimed her hand, using it to push a strand of hair off her temple.

“It’s no use to try to hide the truth, especially from the two of you.” Louisa
tsked
again, as if to remind them she still took part in the discussion.

“Why hide anything? We are sisters, and Louisa is family as well. Why keep good news from either of us? It
is
good news, isn’t it?”

The only reason Rachel was still available was her tendency to be extremely judicious—not only where men were concerned, but in every regard. It was a trait Sophie was glad her sister’s personality included. With classic good looks, charm, and intelligence, any man might offer to enter the parson’s mousetrap with Rachel. Several had, in fact, made offers, but thus far no suitor had met with the rigorous standards her discerning younger sister held. For this, Sophie was supremely thankful.

“Actually, I don’t consider it good news at all.” Rachel worried her lower lip for a moment before she went on. She spoke slowly, as if choosing her words with more care than usual. “You are both shrewd and observant, and for that you shall be rewarded with the knowledge that you are correct.” As if a switch had been flipped somewhere deep in her inner recesses, Rachel threw her hands up in surrender. Her tone changed drastically and her words came out in a rush. “I did meet a man—oh, of course I ‘met’ several men but we all know we are talking about a ‘special’ man, don’t we? Why wrestle over the finer points—we should just put it all on the table, don’t you think? A man—that is what you want to know about, isn’t it? Did I or didn’t I meet a ‘special’ man?”

Shocked into silence by a side of Rachel she had never seen before, Sophie nodded. She glanced at Louisa, who sat with her teacup halfway between her lips and the table. Her eyes were wide, round circles and for an instant Sophie contemplated urging the woman to place her cup back onto the table so she wouldn’t drop it onto her lap.

But Rachel kept talking, and there was no point for anyone to get a word into the discussion.

“Right—a man. Yes, I did meet a man. Oh, he is a wonderful man! A funny, handsome—at least what I could see of him led me to believe he is good-looking—well-mannered, funny—did I say that already?—superb dancing man. ‘Did I meet a special man?’ That is the question you have put before me, I believe, is it not?” A fast breath, not nearly long enough for either Sophie or Louisa to reply, and then, “The answer is most unequivocally yes, I did meet a man—a
very
special man.”

Folding her hands in her lap as if the subject was a box and its lid firmly and forever sealed, Rachel sat back against the chair. Her shoulders fell, and she sighed. She did not, by any stretch of the imagination, appear as one who had just met someone “special” ought to look.

Something wasn’t right. Sophie should have been paying more attention these past days. How could she have let Rachel get so Friday-faced? Someone—particularly her close sister—should have seen there was something on her mind!

“Dear sister, please…” Sophie searched for words of encouragement and comfort, and wished their parents weren’t locked in the library with the quarterly accounts. Mother would have known the exact thing to say, but as she was otherwise occupied it fell to her to calm uneasy waters—for there was no doubt, Rachel’s usually placid face was troubled.

She started a second time. “Listen, it is obvious you are upset over something—or someone—so why not just tell me what is bothering you? Perhaps, between the three of us, we can figure a way to wipe that frown off your face.”

Rachel hitched a sigh, but it came with the most minuscule grin.

“It is hopeless. Not even you and Louisa can fix this for me, Sophie, although I’m touched that you would try. No…nothing can be done.”

So frustrated she considered giving her sister a good shake in the hopes of getting the truth to tumble from her lips, Sophie asked, “What? What can possibly be so bad that it is, as you so dramatically put it, ‘hopeless’? Goodness, I have not seen you so long-faced since you lost your pet hamster when you were ten. What on earth is so awful, Rachel? What?”

“How can you be so dense? I’m sorry if that sounds rude, but it seems as obvious as the nose on your face what my problem is!”

Rachel’s eyes filled with tears, and she hitched a breath. She wouldn’t be comforted, however. When Sophie reached for her, she stood and walked to the doorway.

“Rachel—”

“No, I cannot bear it if you are nice to me again, especially when I am being so horrid. It—it—oh, it is just that I am in such turmoil. I have finally met a man who with no apparent effort at all on his part makes my heart skip in my chest, and I don’t even know his name! How ridiculous is that turn of affairs? I mean, really—I wait my whole life to meet someone special and when I do he is hidden behind a mask.”

Sophie’s own heart dropped. Hearing her own predicament in Rachel’s voice made it all the more real—and all the more disheartening. Rachel, however, was far from finished.

“To top it off, I cannot fall for just any man. No, not I! I have to find a man who is well above my lot in life.”

“Rachel, that’s nonsense! Don’t put yourself down. I won’t stand for it. It’s not right—”

Rachel continued, brushing aside Sophie’s protests the way one might swat at a pesky mosquito.

“I, plain little Rachel Teasdale, with no money to speak of and no real prospects save those I find in matrimony, had to become enamored of a man whose fine breeding and wealth might be dazzling had he not been masked. Even so, there was no hiding the true man beneath the disguise. There never is any hope of hiding one’s true self, is there?”

While her sister did not require an answer, Sophie thought,
No, there is no way to hide who we really are—a mask is but a diversion, not a mirror of the person lurking behind it.

Rachel finished with a flourish, waving her arms and raising her voice so loud their parents rushed from the library to see what the fuss was about.

“No! I cannot fall for a man who is my equal. I am so stupid that I have lost my head to a man whose identity I will never decipher!”

Chapter 7

Rachel couldn’t be pulled out of her doldrums by anyone. Every member of the household tried, each using their own best personal techniques for getting the youngest Teasdale to turn a smile. Some got a grin, but none accomplished the goal completely. Three days after her admission, Rachel was still less than cheerful.

It was bitterly cold outside, but by Saturday morning the snow had stopped. By mid-morning, the streets looked passable, so Sophie suggested an outing.

“What do you say to a walk, Rachel? It shall do us both good to get out for a bit of fresh air.”

And it will give me a chance to clear my head, as well
, Sophie thought. It seemed impossible they had both fallen into the same trap, and found themselves with feelings for men they would probably never meet again.

“I think not.” Rachel held a book of poetry limply in one hand, its pages open but unread. She had been staring at the ceiling for the better part of an hour.

“I think so.” Sophie felt the slow burn of frustration grow within her. She had tried to be patient with her sister, but this moping around was more than she could bear. With more gusto than was necessary, she pushed up from the sofa and dashed across the room. Grabbing Rachel’s wrist, she tugged her from her seat. “It will be good for us. We have been cooped up in the house since the Atwell’s party. Come on, get your coat and scarf. There is a whole world outside, and we need to take part in it.”

Rachel reluctantly went toward the hall closet.

“Don’t forget your gloves,” Sophie called. She purposefully put a cheery note in her voice. “We don’t want your fingers to freeze, do we?”

It wasn’t a huge victory, but at least it was something. She and Rachel were on their way back into the world. One way or another, they had to get past their musings about men, New Year’s, and the party. It wouldn’t be easy, but somehow they would manage it.

Hopefully.

****

“See? Aren’t you glad now that you came out with me? And don’t you feel foolish for having put up such a fuss when I suggested the outing?”

The walk to the shops closest to the house had brought color to their cheeks and supplied warmth the day’s icy weather could not steal. They were heavily dressed, and while things were slushy underfoot they had no trouble navigating the snowy sidewalks.

“I do feel entirely foolish, Sophie. About raising such a stink when you asked me to come out with you, certainly, but about something else as well.” Rachel stopped to examine the wares on display in a flower shop window. When she lingered, Sophie followed her lead.

Eventually, dear sister, you will show your hand—and what is in your head. All I have to do is wait…

“What, pray tell? I was only teasing you, Rachel, when I asked if you feel foolish about trying to refuse the outing. I had nothing more in mind, but if there is something you wish to discuss…”

“I do. Oh, but I earnestly do!” Rachel clasped her hands, and then twisted her fingers together so tightly she nearly broke the ribbon holding her reticule closed.

“Careful,” Sophie cautioned. She pointed to the taut ribbon closure. “That is certain to break if you keep such pressure on it.”

Loosening her fingers, Rachel turned to face her and for the first time Sophie saw an expression of regret in her sister’s wide eyes. The sentiment was uncalled for, and put Sophie on instant alert. Rachel was a good, kind soul but she rarely did things she regretted. What could bring such a grave air to her normally cheerful personality?

“What’s wrong? You seem somber. Whatever it is, I’m sure we can fix it. Tell me, what is it?”

“I am a cork-brained girl, that is the problem.”

“You are not! You may be many things, dear sister, but stupid is not one of them! Whatever makes you say such a thing?”

Rachel shrugged, but she seemed much calmer than she had only a moment earlier. “I fear I have made a cake of myself—yet again. I have been mulling over my declaration of—of…well, my declaration that I am enamored of a certain nameless gentleman, and I find I am…”

Sophie waited. She counted to ten. Then she added another four for good measure. When Rachel’s lips remained sealed, she asked, “What? You are what?”

Another shrug, this one twice as emphatic as the first. Rachel’s shoulders rose so high they touched the bottom of her bonnet before they fell. “Mistaken.”

“Mistaken?” It would have been comical had she not been so exasperated. Leave it to Rachel to announce her intentions—and her agony—over a man only to repeal the words just a few days later! “Do you mean you are not setting your cap on the man who partnered you at the Atwell dance?”

“That is exactly what I mean, Sophie.”

Rachel began to walk again, leaving the flower shop behind as if it did not exist. She moved purposefully through the growing crowd, winding her slim body into breaks in the foot traffic a larger person would not have been able to navigate. Sophie was as slender as her sister, but after Rachel’s cryptic pronouncement, she felt stunned, her feet temporarily stuck to the cold ground like pebbles in a frozen puddle.

Finally, she found her senses and followed Rachel at a brisk pace. It did not take long to catch up. When she did, Sophie put a stilling hand on her sister’s arm. They paused, this time before a bakery shop window. The aroma of sweets wafted out the door each time it opened or closed, but even the tempting aroma didn’t put her off finding out what was going on inside Rachel’s mind.

“Are you telling me that you don’t intend to set you cap on the man you met the other night?”

“That is precisely what I am trying to tell you. Why, I could cast up my accounts, I am so embarrassed! Thank goodness no one save the family witnessed my ridiculous outburst. I would die of mortification if anyone else knew I have so solidly mistaken the feelings in my heart and mind. Why, it almost defies logic! How can one be so completely misguided—especially about one’s own feelings? I feel like a complete fool!”

Sophie could not help herself. She giggled.

It was, she realized, almost cruel given the measure of Rachel’s distress but she was, after all, only human. And like it or not, some things struck her funny which others might perceive as entirely dismal.

The turn of events was ridiculous. It had been almost too much to accept when she learned her sister had fallen under a masked man’s spell, as she herself had done. At the exact same affair, no less. Now, to find Rachel changing position on the leaning of her heart was just plain funny.

Perhaps it was only a matter of time before she, too, no longer found herself fixated on a masked dance partner. Highly unlikely, but nonetheless possible…

Or not.

“How can you laugh when I’ve just spilled my soul out to you? How can you be so cruel?”

Rachel turned and stomped off, nearly knocking a woman off her feet as she exited the bakeshop. Sophie murmured a hurried apology as she caught the woman’s indignant glare. She rushed to catch her sister—again.

When she did, she grabbed Rachel’s arm so hard the younger woman almost stumbled. Sophie reached out and held her up as they both slid sideways on the icy walkway. As soon as their feet felt planted, they looked into each other’s eyes and smiled. They were, after all, sisters, and it did not take much for them to make amends.

“I am not laughing at you, Rachel. And please, do not make a Cheltenham tragedy out of the day. There’s no need at all to blow anything out of proportion.” Sophie paused to take a breath, her gaze going to the sky.

It was rapidly turning darker, and the air growing colder. They would have to turn for home soon—but first, they should set things straight between them.