Chapter Sixteen

The next day I found myself in the fraught position of explaining a romance I'd never mentioned with a man they had never heard of to my (understandably) bewildered family.

"But, Mari, what on earth do you mean you're thinking of marrying this Mr Lockhart?" Mother asked, pacing the room as I tried to look calm. "Who is he?"

"I told you: he's a factory owner from Yorkshire." I said, fussing with the vase of violets I had placed in the middle of the dining table and trying to avoid eye contact with my entire family.

"But where did you meet a factory owner from Yorkshire?" Grandfather's face was scrunched in a frown.

"At the library," I replied promptly, delighted to be able to tell the truth for once. "Around six months ago."

"Six months!" Mother said faintly. "And you've been keeping it from us all this time?"

"I wasn't sure of his feelings," I said, sticking to the story I had devised with Mrs Finch. "We began writing to one another and it was only recently that I learned he returned my affections." I didn't have to feign the flush on my cheeks that accompanied this particular piece of fantasy.

"Well, I think it's deeply romantic," Daisy said, dropping into a chair and clutching at her heart. "To think he took such a fancy to you that for six months he's been wooing you with love letters. I can't believe you won't let me read them." She pouted. "Me! Your only sister and a burgeoning romantic heroine at heart. And now he wants to whisk you off to his big house and show you all that could be yours. It's like something from a novel!"

I cleared my throat. "It is certainly like a work of fiction," I agreed.

"This just seems so sudden," Mother said, wringing her hands.

When we had been sitting in Izzy's sitting room yesterday, this part of the plan had seemed like an awkward necessity, but suddenly faced with the very real prospect of breaking the news to my family, I was realizing the various pitfalls.

"But does this mean you plan to move to Yorkshire?" Grandfather asked.

Pitfalls like that.

"We haven't discussed the details," I said as airily as I could manage. "But we will. I'll be back in a week, and we can talk it over then."

"It all seems most irregular." Grandfather's frown deepened. "But at least the man is coming to introduce himself – that's something."

"And you say his godmother is coming to call as well?" Mother asked.

"Yes, Mrs Finch. She wanted to make sure you knew the whole trip was going to be well chaperoned. I think Mr Lockhart wants to…" I hesitated here, remembering the words Mrs Finch had advised me to use, though they made me cringe. "Impress me with his suit." I could just picture Oliver's reaction to this, which was actually quite helpful because I felt a smile flicker on my lips.

Mother's face softened at this. "That's to his credit, then. And you say he's … a man of some means?"

I cleared my throat. "I understand he has a very comfortable life."

"Mari, you are such a dark horse," Daisy squeaked, absolutely thrilled by this whole turn of events. "Keeping a secret lover, and a fabulously wealthy one too; I had no idea you had it in you!"

"Nor did I," I said dryly. "Who knows if anything will come of it? No one understands better than me that engagements can be broken. Perhaps after spending more time in my company, Mr Lockhart will realize we don't suit."

I was quite pleased with this little speech, which I felt paved the way for the inevitable demise of my pretend relationship very neatly, but all three of them stared at me with barely concealed horror.

"Mari!" Mother stood, gripping my hand. "You are a gem, and any man would be lucky to have you!"

"He should be kissing the ground you walk on!" Grandfather expounded.

"Writing you love sonnets!" Daisy chimed in. "Does he write you love sonnets?"

I choked on a laugh at the thought of Oliver Lockhart penning love poetry. "Well, not exactly…" I murmured.

"In fact, it speaks extremely well of him," Grandfather said hotly, "that he has formed such an accurate picture of you on so snatched an acquaintance. Some men have the good sense to know a diamond when they see one!"

"Yes, yes!" Mother was getting riled up now too. "I don't know why any of us were surprised that a handsome man would wish to whisk you away, Mari. If anything, we should have been expecting something like this."

Oh, God. My family of hopeless romantics were quickly tipping too far in the other direction. The appearance of self-doubt had been a misstep on my part, because now, in buoying me up, they were talking themselves into the idea that Oliver and I were part of some grand Shakespearean love story.

"I didn't say he was handsome," I managed.

"Oh," Daisy said, crestfallen. "Is he not handsome? But then in many ways that's better, isn't it? Because really it's about two souls recognizing one another…"

"Err…" I made a doubtful noise.

"When I think of what you went through…" Mother began. "If anyone deserves a happy ending, it's you."

"If only your grandmother was still alive to see this!" Grandfather groaned, plucking a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and loudly blowing his nose.

"No, no, don't – you'll turn me into a watering pot!" Mother began blinking rapidly, fumbling for her own lace handkerchief.

"We just want you to be happy," Daisy wailed.

The sound of the doorbell being rung exploded through the air.

Perfect.

I eyed my weeping family with apprehension. "I'll go and get that, shall I?"

Leaving them to compose themselves, I headed out of the dining room, along the hallway, and then down the stairs that led to the front door at the side of the shop.

When I opened it, I found Oliver and Mrs Finch standing outside. I felt a wave of relief at the sight of Mrs Finch's steady countenance. She looked utterly calm, treating me to that small half-smile of hers.

Oliver, on the other hand, was pale and miserably clutching a small bouquet of flowers, which he thrust at me.

"Let's get this sham over with," he said, stomping past me into the hallway.

"It was nice of you to bring flowers," I said as I closed the door behind them and moved ahead of him.

My arm brushed against his as I did so, and I felt a strange, electric tingling running the way down into my fingertips. All at once, I was very aware of how big he was, how much taller than me. And how nice he smelled, like sandalwood and green, open spaces. The air disappeared from the hallway, just for a moment.

Oliver looked down at me with a frown. "Mrs Finch brought them," he said gruffly.

"No, I didn't," she whispered in my ear, when he turned to examine the small entry hall.

I felt something light bubble in my chest at that.

"Um, I think I'd probably better warn you," I said as I climbed the stairs ahead of them. "My family are quite … excited."

"I'm sure Oliver will have no problem with playing the doting suitor," Mrs Finch said tranquilly. "Will you, Oliver?"

His only response was a low growl.

"Very well," I said, taking a deep breath as I opened the door to my home. "I suppose this is really happening, then."

The moment the door swung on its hinges, they were on him like a pack of rabid dogs. I watched in mute amusement as my mother wept into Oliver's neck while Grandfather pumped his hand up and down.

"Delighted to meet you at last, we've been looking forward to it for so long," boomed my grandfather, a man who had learned of Oliver's existence approximately fifteen minutes ago.

"Welcome to the family!" my mother exclaimed.

"Thank you," Oliver croaked.

"Marigold, I thought you said he wasn't handsome?" Daisy exclaimed with devastating clarity.