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“Catherine!”
“Keep your voice down, will you?” She glances at the shopkeeper who’s pretending not to be interested in our conversation in the corner.
When she sees my color rise, she hurries back to the counter and gives the shopkeeper instructions to cut her off a length of the lavender silk and be quick about it.
“Catherine,” I say again, catching her by the hand. “Did you know that he would be here?”
Pretending not to hear, she counts out her money and makes a show of being absorbed in getting the right change. When I don’t let go she gives me a sharp look that says I had better wait until we’re outside.
The shopkeeper takes an unbearably long time cutting the silk, all the while darting curious glances between us. I give him a hasty thanks and then drag Catherine out by the arm.
Outside, Catherine whirls to face me. “That was rude.”
“Is that why we came here today, really? Were you planning on meeting him all along?”
By now Mr. Pierce has seen us, and he raises his hat in acknowledgment as he ambles across the green.
Catherine throws a hurried smile at him, and then gives me an impatient little shrug, confirming my suspicions.
“Mother told me to keep you out of trouble. I hardly think she would be grateful if she heard you went off with Mr. Pierce for the whole town to see.”
“Oh, Lydia, don’t be such a sop. I’m already pregnant,” she says with a breezy wave of her hand. “What other trouble can I get into? Just find something to do with the carriage for an hour and I’ll meet you back here. Mother will be none the wiser. And besides...” She lifts the lavender silk in her arms to show me. “I can’t very well use this until there’s a proper engagement.”
I open my mouth but then close it again, pressing my lips tight. The sooner she’s engaged the better, but why can’t she go about it in a proper sort of way? Mr. Pierce should have already made his intentions clear with Father, and he should be coming by the house where our parents can chaperone. I don’t like all this sneaking about.
By the time I’ve started explaining this to her, Mr. Pierce has caught up to us. Catherine’s annoyance with me evaporates as she fixes a gracious smile on her face.
“Mr. Pierce,” she says, a bit coyly. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” He presses his smiling lips to her hand, and then gives me a cursory nod.
“A surprise indeed,” I say with thinly veneered scorn. “Tell me, Mr. Pierce, are you still a guest of Mr. Barrett’s?”
He raises a brow, glancing at Catherine before answering. “I am,” he says, humoring me.
“Ah,” I say. “You must be quite the expert on milling by now. I wonder that you’re still in New Oldbury if you’ve learned so much that you don’t even need to accompany Mr. Barrett to Clarke farm today. Tell me again, what is your position in Mr. Barrett’s employ?”
“Lydia!” Even Catherine is blushing scarlet now.
Color rises to Mr. Pierce’s face. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“It’s only that you seem to come and go as you please. I thought perhaps you have been acting in a traveling supervisor role. Whatdoesbring you back to town?” I ask with an innocent furrow of my brow.
“You’re mistaken, Miss Montrose,” he says. “John doesn’t employ me, you’ll remember that he’s merely been showing me the ins and outs of the milling business.”
“Ah! Of course. So kind of you to remind me of the particulars. Mr. Barrett is lucky in any case to have a friend that he can count on to take his mentorship so seriously.”
Mr. Pierce’s perennial smile fades. He narrows his eyes, giving me an appraising look, as if really seeing me for the first time and realizing just how little he cares for what he sees. Catherine pinches my waist.
“John is the best sort of friend a fellow could ask for,” Mr. Pierce says briskly. “I’m sure I’m the lucky one.” He clears his throat and holds out his arm to Catherine, careful not to meet my eye again. “Shall we?”
Catherine thrusts the bolt of silk into my arms with a hiss. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
They head off, arm in arm, Catherine leaning in close to him and laughing loudly in response to something whispered in her ear. Some jab at me, no doubt.
With a huff, I turn to carry the silk back to the carriage. But the bundle is heavier than it looks, and as I shift the weight into my other arm it becomes tangled, slipping from my grasp and cascading to the ground.
I consider leaving it on the wet ground and letting it soak up the brown puddle water. That would serve Catherine right.