“Between us, Miss Dunne, I do expect that Dr. Edmunds is about to ask for my hand in marriage. If he has not already broached the subject with my brother, who acts as my guardian in place of our father, long deceased.”
“You must be very excited by the prospect of such a marriage,” replied Rachel, vividly aware that she did not want to be party to Miss Castleton’s expectations. She would prefer to know absolutely nothing about Miss Castleton and Dr. Edmunds’s matrimonial plans. “Dr. Edmunds is a fine man.”
“Indeed, I am thrilled,” said Miss Castleton, dreamily. “I have always longed to live in the countryside.”
Rachel bit back a hasty rejoinder. You should be thrilled to be with him. That sentiment should be Miss Castleton’s uppermost thought. How could Dr. Edmunds wish to marry Miss Castleton? They were as opposite as the poles of a magnet. He was serious and she decidedly frivolous. He needed someone who could understand him. Who knew what it meant to be drawn to an injured child in a road. Miss Castleton seemed more likely to stride away, eyes averted from the street urchin, than to bend down to offer aid.
“Congratulations, Miss Castleton.” Rachel scraped together all the goodwill she could gather and found sufficient to truly mean her words. “I wish you great joy.”
Miss Castleton’s eyes widened, taken aback that Rachel—a poor Irish girl—could be gracious enough, well bred enough, to extend sincere felicitations. “Why, thank you.”
The men entered the drawing room. Dr. Edmunds’s gaze sought out Rachel before looking anywhere else. Before drifting to the woman who intended on moving to Finchingfield with him. Drift to Miss Castleton, though, they eventually did.
Rachel stood. “It was very agreeable to speak with you, Miss Castleton. Good evening to you.”
“Good evening, Miss Dunne. I wish you success with your endeavors.”
Dr. Castleton went to join his sister on the sofa. Rachel attempted to slip by Dr. Edmunds, still waiting just inside the doorway. He lifted a hand to stop her. “Please stay, Miss Dunne. It’s early yet.”
“I cannot, Dr. Edmunds. Because of my unfortunate fainting spell earlier, I still have work to attend in the library and must leave you to your guests.”
“If you insist.”
“I do.”
“Always sensible, Miss Dunne.”
“That I am.” For I know where I do not belong.
“Dr. Edmunds,” called out Miss Castleton possessively, “please join us. Thaddeus has started to tell an amusing story about a hot potato seller he encountered today, and you must hear it.”
Dr. Edmunds bowed his head and ceased attempting to convince Rachel to stay, strolling away to take a seat across from Miss Castleton. He made a remark to her that was out of Rachel’s hearing and she smiled. The sight constricted Rachel’s chest for no particular reason she could name. Miss Castleton was of Dr. Edmunds’s world. Maybe she would make him happy. She obviously enjoyed his company and wanted to be his wife. They would have beautiful children and be blessed by God.
Rachel turned slowly on her heel and closed the door behind her.
CHAPTER 11
Morning didn’t bring an announcement of an impending wedding. In fact, the day was progressing much as the past few days had, with Joe bustling around the house or out by the outbuildings, Mrs. Mainprice in the kitchen, Peg and Molly cleaning and washing and tidying. And Rachel at work in the library, with nothing to disturb her save the twirling of her thoughts, fast as the feet of a dancer.
Had Dr. Edmunds not asked Miss Castleton to marry him, after all? Was that what he and Dr. Castleton had been discussing after dinner?
“Miss Dunne, you’ve a letter.”
The voice at the library doorway—Molly’s—jolted her, and Rachel plucked the end of the dip pen out of her mouth. She had been chewing it absentmindedly while she’d fretted over matters irrelevant to her.
Molly stood in the library doorway, a folded bit of paper in her outstretched fingers.
“A letter?” Rachel asked, setting the pen aside and taking the note from the maid. She glanced at the outside and recognized the handwriting—her mother’s. Rachel tucked the letter into her apron pocket to send the clear signal she was not about to read it while Molly stood there. “Thank you for delivering it.”
“Do you have the postage, or do I have to ask Dr. Edmunds for the money?” Rachel paused long enough to generate a sneer on Molly’s face. “That’s what I thought.”
Molly briskly strode out. Rachel hurried over to the window, retrieved the note from her pocket, and