The Matrimony Plan

“Ah,” murmured Beatrice, prolonging the conversation unnecessarily. “Then you have someone in mind?”

Felicity intensified her glare, and Beatrice smiled. Gabriel had paused, but Felicity didn’t dare look at him. She held her breath and waited excruciating seconds until he answered.

“Not yet.”

She breathed out with a whoosh. Thank goodness. He didn’t feel the same way she did. Her peculiar attraction was nothing more than a physical reaction based on the chance occurrence of thinking he was someone else. Once she got to know Robert, this unnatural feeling for Gabriel would vanish.

“But I do have an idea what I want in a wife,” Gabriel added, sending Felicity back to her napkin.

Mother’s eyebrows rose, and Daddy roared. “That’s the way to do it, son. Know what you want and go after it.”

“This is hardly a hunt, Branford,” Mother chided. “We’re talking about marriage.”

“And romance.” Beatrice smiled at Felicity. “Every woman longs for romance.”

Perhaps, but Felicity couldn’t afford it. She had to marry this summer before that horrid art school begins. “I’ve always believed a match is best made between two social equals with like minds.” She glanced at Robert to make her point perfectly clear. “Love can grow from there.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Beatrice conceded. “I didn’t always love Blake the way I do now. When we were young, I found him a bit of a rascal.”

“I was.” Blake laughed.

“Most boys are,” Gabriel said. “From what my sister says, I was, too. You ladies are right that love can grow over time.

It’s gentle and kind, two things we men are not too good at in our youth.”

“Gentle?” Robert snickered. “Very pastorly of you, Reverend, but in my experience, love is passionate and wild.” He gazed at Felicity. “It throws caution to the wind.”

Her pulse raced but not in an entirely pleasant way. His words should have thrilled, but a shiver of unease made her look away. She shook it off. He was merely telling her that he was interested—exactly what she wanted.

“Speaking of the wind,” Daddy said, “Blake tells me Hunter has some ideas on runway direction that contradict what you have on the blueprints.”

As the beef Wellington was served, Daddy, Blake and Mr. Blevins descended into talk about the airfield project. Felicity swallowed her disappointment. If only Daddy hadn’t changed the subject, Robert would have asked to see her again. She pulled the pastry off the beef and absently swirled it in gravy.

“I hear you’ve been accepted at a prestigious art college,” Beatrice suddenly said.

Felicity started. Why was Beatrice stirring up trouble tonight? On most occasions, she barely said a word.

Gabriel set down his fork. Was he going to tell everyone about their encounter this afternoon? She felt that awful heat wash over her again.

“Yes,” she said hastily, “an art academy.”

“The National Academy of Design to be precise,” Mother said haughtily. She leaned ever so slightly toward Gabriel. “That’s the finest art school in New York.”

Felicity blushed wildly. Gabriel knew that. “Mother,” she hissed.

“Well, it is.”

“And one of the finest in the country,” Gabriel said.

Once Mother got over the initial shock that he knew about art academies, she looked pleased. “See, Felicity. I told you that everyone has heard of the National Academy.”

Felicity squirmed. How could Mother slight Gabriel like that? He might be poor, but he wasn’t ignorant.

To his credit, Gabriel fielded the derogatory comment with grace. “You’re probably right, Mrs. Kensington.” Then he ruined everything. “Ms. Kensington, your sketches are very well done. That still life of the rose is particularly good.”

Felicity didn’t have to follow his gaze to know he meant Mother’s sketch hanging on the opposite wall. “It’s not mine,” she said stiffly.

“It might as well be,” Mother said with a wave of the hand. “Felicity’s work is charming.”

She would lie to a minister? That was practically like lying to God. “No it’s not,” Felicity said in a moment of contrariness. “I can’t draw a thing.”

“Felicity,” Mother hissed.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Beatrice graciously said. “You did a lovely sketch of a horse when we were in school.”

Mother did it. Mother always did Felicity’s sketches. Either the teachers didn’t know or they looked the other way.

“That’s why my Felicity is the perfect chairwoman of the Beautification Committee,” Mother stated, deftly turning the conversation in a new direction.

“Beautification Committee?” Gabriel asked.

Beatrice raised guileless blue eyes. “The Beautification of the Sanctuary Committee.”

Mother explained, “We’ve decided to replace the plate glass window inside the entry with stained glass.”

“We?” Gabriel looked around the table. “Why haven’t I heard about this?”

Felicity wanted to hide. Mother should have told him at the Ladies’ Aid Society meeting. She should have laid out all her plans to the new minister. It was just like her to settle the matter before he arrived to avoid any opposition.

Mother waved off the question. “Don’t fret. You’ll hear all about it at our next meeting.”

Gabriel gulped. “Are you telling me this is a Ladies’ Aid Society project?”

“Of course, and my Felicity is chairing the committee.”

Gabriel’s expression hardened. “I thought the Ladies’ Aid Society raised funds to help the poor.”

Mother’s artificial smile tightened in preparation for a fight. “That is one of our missions. Helping our church is another.”

“But the poor—”

“Pardon me, Reverend, but you’ve been in Pearlman less than a day. I believe we know a bit more about our town than you do.” Though Mother spoke in a singsong tone, her words cut with the efficiency of a scalpel.

Gabriel’s jaw dropped, and for a moment Felicity wanted to encourage him, but then she heard Robert snicker and realized what a fool Gabriel was making of himself. Mortified for him, she tried to think of another topic of conversation, but her mind had gone blank.

Looking stricken, Beatrice took the lead. “Felicity, when is the first meeting? We can discuss this all then, not at dinner.”

How could she answer? She didn’t know a thing about the project or the committee, not even who was on it, but she couldn’t admit ignorance. She lifted her jaw and squared her shoulders. “I will contact you when a date is set.”