that one only ever saw on the very young and unblemished. “Did you read that book yet, that I found you from the library?”
Despite her continued and extensive reading, Evie’s favourite book remained Pride and Prejudice. Almost as a type of test, she had pressed it on her limited social circle at the Great House—Josephine the cook, Charlotte the other house girl, and Tom the stable hand and gardener—with as much enthusiasm as she ever did anything. If they failed to enjoy or—even worse—finish the book, she wrote them off just as dismissively.
“Um, no, not quite.” Tom coughed. He had meant to start the book, mostly because he was in a race against time and two other young men in the village when it came to romancing Evie Stone. But even that potential reward could not overcome a notable fidgetiness and lack of discipline on his part.
“Well, you should, Tom, you really should. It’s so good. It’s so funny.” Evie stood up straight with her hands full of greenery and smiled at him. “I can’t carry any more, can you?”
He looked through the lime grove and out onto the west-facing fields, separated from the woods and the house by a little ha-ha—the deceptive fencing sunk down into a ditch so as not to impinge on the sightline of the view, while keeping the sheep out of the gardens.
“Sun’s setting fast enough, must be close to tea. Say, listen, can I hold on to that book a little longer?”
“Miss Knight says she’s thrilled if we’re any of us reading, so I’m sure she won’t miss it yet.”
Evie headed down the lime grove back towards the house, letting Tom straggle along behind her. She suspected that he had not even bothered to pick up the book and wondered whether this reflected either a limit to his interest in her, or just an antipathy to sitting still. Either way, she was not overly impressed—nor did she think Jane Austen would have been.
Evie entered the Great House and placed her pile of greenery on a side table to the inside left of the huge wooden front door. Tom did the same, then headed off down the centre hallway to the kitchen to grab tea from Josephine. Evie took the longer, more circuitous way, through the drawing room that the family called the Great Hall, which opened up onto the main-floor library, and then along a small gallery until reaching Evie’s other favourite room, the dining room.
In the centre of that room sat the immensely long mahogany table at which Jane and Cassandra and their brother, his eleven children, and an evolving assortment of other guests, would all have dined. Part of a three-story extension that protruded from the western face of the house, the dining room contained two huge window seats with thick brocaded curtain covers, which one could pull closed along a high brass rod for total privacy. Sitting in the southern window, you could also watch, unobserved, the approach up the long drive of any of the infrequent visitors to the house.
There, as Evie had suspected, sat Miss Knight.
“Excuse me, miss,” she started, and Miss Knight turned to look at her.
Evie was concerned about her employer. Miss Knight had a pervasive greyness about her, a lack of life in her face and posture, that made it seem as if she had one foot in this world and one foot somewhere else. She was a woman essentially alone and increasingly without friends, as she began to spend all her time indoors. Although still young, Evie already understood that true friendship was not earned without hard work and vigilance. Having left school and the easy camaraderie of classmates, Evie could see how working inside a big, empty house with minimal staff was keeping her from more typical social pursuits. Going to the movies in Alton with girlfriends was her only outside form of recreation—reading and cataloguing the books late into the night took up the rest of her leisure time.
“Tom and I were wondering, miss, if you’ll be attending the service this Christmas Eve. Many of the villagers have been asking on my rounds.”
Frances shook her head. She was already not up to seeing too many people, and now half the village was about to descend on her very home.
“No, but you and Charlotte and Tom should all go. Josephine is going to stay back to get things ready and keep me company. And, of course, I should spend some time visiting with my