“Yes, my lord. Right away, my lord.” Burt scrambled down from the scaffolding and dashed down the aisle to join Harrison and John, all arms and legs.
“What were you doing up there anyhow?” John asked as they exited the chapel.
“Getting a better view, my lord,” Burt said, mischief in his eyes. “Ain’t that what they always say to do? When you can’t figure something out up close, take a step back and get a better view?”
“You’re absolutely right,” John said, thumping Burt’s back. “You hear that, Harrison? We have a philosopher here. If things seem bleak up close, take a step back and reassess the situation.”
Harrison laughed and shook his head, though he didn’t see how stepping back from a missing ring and his undying love for Bea was going to help anything. What he needed to do next was face the problem head-on and propose like he should have all along, whether it was the stuff the poets wrote about or not. Otherwise, he ran the risk of letting Bea, and his life, get away from him.
Chapter 7
“Ow!” Bea let out the exclamation as Diana trampled on the hem of her dress, then immediately stifled her outburst with a hand to her mouth.
She and Diana were hunkered behind a rack of old clothes in various states of repair, concealed from view—she hoped—from Harrison and John. The men had yet to notice they’d snuck into the chapel as they picked through the donations. They’d reached the first pew at the front of the room. Bea couldn’t imagine what they were looking for. They didn’t appear to be sorting the donations. From the moment she and Diana had crept into the room, all they seemed to be doing was looking through them, as though they were vegetables at market and the two were deciding what they wanted to have for supper that night.
“Ssh.” Diana silenced Bea with a wave of her hand, then swayed toward the clothing hanging in front of them. With all of the grace of a burglar, Diana parted the coats, shirts, and bodices to peer out through the donated clothing at the men. “They’re up to something, I just know it.”
Bea rocked back, sitting on the edge of the stone outcropping that made up part of the alcove behind the rack. “While I will agree that their behavior is suspicious,” she whispered, “I hardly think they’re up to no good.”
“It’s John,” Diana murmured over her shoulder. “That man is always trouble.”
Bea pressed her lips together and stared at Diana’s back. She loved her friend like a sister, but Diana most certainly had a blind spot where John was concerned. If she would just loosen up her tight hold of her pride and admit she had feelings for the man, her misery could be resolved.
Then again, knowing and admitting that she was in love with Harrison hadn’t done Bea a lick of good. Not when she had made a fool out of herself for his sake, and not when she was reasonably certain she stood on the precipice of making a fool of herself again that very moment. She and Diana were poor spies, and Bea was convinced the men would realize they were there at any second.
Movement near the door to the chapel caught her eye, and Bea turned slightly to see Burt dash into the room.
“And what are you up to, lad?” Bea heard John ask.
“I didn’t see you in here, my lord,” Burt answered.
Bea stood and crept over to the rack of clothes through which Diana was spying.
“Well, as long as you’re here, why don’t you make yourself useful and help us search,” John said.
Burt moved forward, though with her limited range of vision behind the curtain of coats, Bea could only assume he went to the chancel instead of actually seeing him.
“So they are searching for something,” she whispered to Diana.
“He’s searching for his soul, if he knows what’s good for him,” Diana growled.
Bea sent her friend a flat look and leaned back. She hooked her hand in the crook of Diana’s arm, pulling her away from her spying as she went. Diana looked livid at being interrupted, but kept her mouth shut. Then again, she didn’t need to speak. Bea could tell just how frustrated she was by the fury in her eyes.
“Diana, really,” Bea whispered, sending a quick glance in the direction of the men, even though they were blocked from view. “This vendetta with John has become childish.”
“He is the one who is childish,” Diana hissed in return, stepping close to Bea so that they could remain as quiet as possible. “Only a man-child would play pranks on unsuspecting orphanages at Christmastime.”
Bea let out a breath and fought not to roll her eyes. “Are you certain that this fixation with John as a prankster isn’t because you, like me, are desperate for a proposal that has been painfully slow in coming?”
Diana squeaked in indignation, then clamped her jaw hard and pressed a hand to her mouth. She sent a furious glance in the direction of the men—one that was so sharp it could have cut right through the donated clothes—before glaring at Bea. “I wouldn’t marry John Darrow if he were the last man on earth. Why, he’s arrogant and devilish and…and arrogant, and I would never—”
A change in the men’s conversation stopped Diana in the middle of her rant. She and Bea rushed back to the rack, doing their best to stay hidden while watching Harrison and John walk up the aisle and out of the chapel. Burt left with them.
Bea and Diana stayed where they were, bodies tense, holding their breaths, until the sound of the men’s footsteps and their conversation faded into nothing. Once they were well and truly gone, Bea stepped out from behind the clothes and walked toward the front row of pews. She heaved a sigh as she sank into the pew.
“I should face the fact that he’s never going to propose,” she said. “Clearly, he has far too many important things occupying his mind to bother marrying me.”
“Now who’s being childish,” Diana said, marching up to her and crossing her arms.
“I am being the opposite of childish,” Bea said, sitting straighter. “I am facing the truth of a situation that, I fear, I had built up in my mind to be something other than what it is.”
“Nonsense.” Diana sat in the pew beside her. Bea expected her to launch into a tirade of some sort, but instead, she let out a heavy breath, her shoulders sinking. “This is what comes of not allowing women to have any sort of profession or interests outside of the domestic sphere,” she said, picking at a spot of dirt on her skirt. “Without any sort of serious purpose, we’re left with nothing to occupy our minds but fantasies and fussing.”
Bea cracked into a wry grin. “We’re relegated to this, and then men turn around and say that our minds are not fit for any sort of seriousness or employment.”
Diana let out a sullen laugh. “They have created the very situation they revile us for.”
“I don’t want to be a ninny,” Bea said, with all due seriousness. “I’m sure there are a thousand more productive things I could apply my mind to besides worrying whether Harrison will propose or not.”
“And my intellectual capabilities are much better suited toward steering this country and our world in a progressive direction than they are toward worrying whether some silly man is playing pranks on orphans,” Diana agreed. “Which is precisely why it is so important that the May Flowers takes a stand for the rights of women.” She stood, as if to prove her point, and Bea stood with her. “That is why, as soon as this Christmas event is over, I am going to take a stand, once and for all, and ally the May Flowers with any and all of the new organizations supporting the rights of women that have been forming of late.”