The Girl from the Hidden Forest by Hannah Linder

Author:Hannah Linder [Linder, Hannah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781636098340
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2024-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

“You simply cannot imagine how pleasurable it is to see you again.” Miss Penelope Haverfield smiled from the striped, wingback chair in the drawing room. She was one of the pictures come to life. The ones Eliza had studied and dreamed over in endless books and magazines.

Her hair was sunlight. Her teeth pearls. Her skin cream, eyes sapphire, lips roses. Not a hair was out of place, and not a wrinkle creased the satin of her pelisse and dress. She was everything a lady should be.

Everything Eliza was not.

Her eyes, glinting and mockingly amused, said as much. “Well, do sit down, my dear. I shall feel insufferably awkward if you don’t.”

“Oh.” Eliza hurried into a seat. “Of course.”

“I hope you do not mind my visiting.”

“Certainly not.”

“Good. It is only that I thought of you, poor dear, and wanted to be of help if I might.” She pulled a small book from behind her reticule. “Fordyce’s Sermons to Young Women. I presume you have not read it?”

“No.” She left her seat long enough to accept the book. “Thank you. I read often.”

“Do you? Why, what a surprise. From the way Felton talks, I was rather under the impression you were most naked of any sort of refinement.”

Hurt nipped her. “He said so?”

“La, who knows? Someone certainly whispered the notion into my ear—but that just goes to show you, doesn’t it, that things are not always what they seem.”

Quiet settled into the room.

Heat suffused Eliza’s face as Miss Haverfield’s gaze traveled her up and down. From the hair, disheveled and loose down her shoulders. To the morning dress, crinkled and still stained where she’d sloshed some of Minney’s caudle from the bowl. To her face, her burning face. Oh, why had the woman come? To scorn her? To scream, if only silently, that Eliza could never be a lady?

“I do hope we can be friends.” The girl tugged at one of her white gloves and smiled again. “In fact, I cannot own to only visiting for the sake of bringing you a book. Other motives drew me.” When Eliza did not prod her to share more, Miss Haverfield leaned forward. “Can you be trusted with a secret now that we are dear friends?”

“If your secret is terribly precious, perhaps you should keep it to yourself.”

“La, but that’s just it. I cannot bear to keep it in a moment longer, and as you are such a good friend of Felton yourself, you are the truest soul I might tell. You see, my father has finally agreed.”

Eliza stiffened. “Agreed to what?”

“The courtship dear Felton and I have been waiting for all these years. Soon enough, we shall not have to meet in twilight hours, but will be free to accompany each other anywhere in the world. Is it not wonderful?”

Like wretched traitors, tears came to her eyes. Wonderful?

Yes, it was wonderful. For the girl he smiled at, or touched, or laughed with. For the one hearing his voice and knowing every word was meant for her.

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