“Pray, don’t leave, Mama.”
“You may stay, Barbara,” said Mr. Pilkington, wiping his lips with his serviette. “Since this is a mere formality. I flatter myself that everything is already settled.”
“It is?” Sandrine asked, her heart sinking.
“It is. You know what I’m about to ask, Miss Oliver. Sandrine. May I call you Sandrine?” He didn’t wait for a response. “My dear Sandrine, while it is true that you have no portion to speak of, and some gentlemen might consider that a deterrence, you are the most obedient, and most dutiful, and I daresay the prettiest young lady in Squalton-on-Sea. And I am the most eligible and sought-after of bachelors, and therefore our union is preordained.” His voice took on the somber tones of the pulpit. “Preordained in the eyes of every villager, of your mother, and of the Almighty.”
Sandrine opened her mouth to speak. Therehadn’t been a question anywhere in that speech. Still, she was expected to be overjoyed that this man and her mother had come to an arrangement without her approval. She must fulfill her mother’s every wish, do the right and obedient thing... but no sound emerged from her lips. She tried again, but still she had no command over her vocal cords. She simply couldn’t force herself to respond.
A sudden, awful vision of her life swirled through her mind like a tidal wave, sweeping her into the dark oblivion of the briny depths of despair. She couldn’t marry this man. She’d be expected to remain silent as he soliloquized, obedient to his demands, a meek wife and a selfless mother. He didn’t truly see her. He only saw the version of her that her mother had painstakingly created and controlled.
“You’re overwhelmed with gratitude, I understand. No need to speak, Sandrine. I comprehend from the zeal shining in your eyes that everything is to your satisfaction.”
“Mr. Pilkington—” She’d finally found her voice, but he spoke over her.
“This winter, you and I will spend chaperoned time together. I will read to you from the scriptures while you embroider.”
“Mr. Pilkington!”
“Yes, dear Sandrine?”
“I’m trying to say something.”
“Sandrine,” her mother said warningly, “this is not the time for flights of fancy. A simpleyeswill suffice.”
Sandrine’s mind scrambled about, desperately searching for a foothold on a ladder out of this nightmare. “Mr. Pilkington, I feel that I am not yet worthy of you.”
“Nonsense, Sandrine.” He smiled indulgently. “You are the most worthy young lady in all of Squalton.”
“And yet I feel I must prove myself to you. There is one task I must complete. I’ve been invited to London by Mrs. McGovern and Miss Hodwell to accompany them to petition the Duke of Rydell on behalf of our historical society.”
“You, go to London? I should think not!” exclaimed her mother, throwing down her serviette. “Have you gone mad?”
“Together, we three ladies will convince the duke to do the right, honorable, and charitable action and grant the manor house to the historical society.”
Mr. Pilkington stroked his chin with his long fingers. “And you feel that this is almost a pilgrimage of sorts?”
“I do, I most heartily do. It’s been my goal for so long, but our letters and petitions have been ignored. It’s time to take action and meet the duke in person. I would travel with Mrs. McGovern and Miss Hodwell as their companion. Only for a fortnight.”
“Out of the question,” her mother said. “I refuse to allow you to visit that den of vice and sin. I would worry every minute you were gone. You don’t know what it’s like there. The dangers to young ladies that lurk around every corner. Tellher, Ernest, please tell my darling girl that she mustn’t leave the safety of Squalton.”
Mr. Pilkington steepled his fingers and regarded Sandrine thoughtfully. “Now, Barbara, while there are many evils in London, it’s not the worst idea to present the petition in person. Pray think of the benefit to Squalton should your daughter succeed in her mission. The manor house could be restored, bringing visitors and new villagers to Squalton. It could also be used as assembly rooms for our Benevolent Society.”
“But why must it be Sandrine?”
“Because it would be difficult for the duke, as hard-hearted and vindictive as he is, to saynoto Sandrine, with all her many charms.” He made an obsequious little bow.
Sandrine was thoroughly amazed. It seemed she had an unexpected ally. “Thank you, Mr. Pilkington. I will not fail your confidence in me.”
“Go to London on your honorable pilgrimage with my blessing, dear lady. Fulfill your charitable mission, and then we may finalize our plans.”
“Oh,” her mother wailed. “I can’t allow it. I simply cannot.”
“It’s only a fortnight, Barbara. She’s going to do a charitable act. She will be prayerful in all that she does and will perform this act of service. Together, she and Mrs. McGovern and Miss Hodwell will melt the duke’s heart and bring him into the light of loving kindness. The duke persecutes his brethren because he thinks that he is better than they due to his fortune and consequence. It will take a dutiful and blameless young lady like Sandrine to challenge the lion in his den and remind him that it is his good deeds, not his fine clothing, that will gain him access to the Pearly Gates.”
“Perhaps you might write a short speech for me to deliver, Mr. Pilkington?” asked Sandrine. All she was doing was buying time, she knew that, but escaping from this room without sayingyesto his proposal was her only goal at the moment. She would sort everything else out later. The rebellious spirt that had been awakened by her time with Danny wouldn’t allow her to seal her fate this evening.
“I would be delighted, Sandrine. I shall begin work upon your speech immediately. I shall use the parable of the sheep and the goats. With my words and your soft looks and guileless smile, we are assured of success. I would accompany you myself, if not for my duties to the parishioners this summer.”