"Not coming?" Lottie shrieked, rising from the settee abruptly. "What do you mean? Not coming?"

Marching across the summer parlor, Charlotte confronted me angrily. I had just announced that Spencer would not join us for dinner that evening. His excuse seemed simple enough. His younger brother, Benedick, had a riding accident, resulting in a broken leg. Naturally, when his father, the Earl of Barnchester, summoned him home, he departed quickly.

"His brother had an accident," I repeated patiently. "His father summoned him home."

"Well," my brother's wife propped her hands at her waist, tapping her foot on the floor impatiently. "If that's his excuse..."

"I assure you, it is not an excuse," I sharply countered. "It's a family emergency."

"Humph," Lottie snorted disdainfully. "A likely story. He did not wish to join our company and departed quickly. He'll have to learn his place around here."

"His place," I sputtered, flabbergasted. "Indeed, you must remember he is a Viscount and outranks Papa and Joel."

"Nevertheless, you get him here tonight," my sister-in-law demanded. Inching closer to me, she pressed her nose against mine and glared at me with wrathful eyes. "He promised to dine with us, and I intend him to fulfill his promise. Am I understood?"

"I most certainly will not!" I exclaimed, standing my ground. "I cannot! Papa?"

Swooping past Charlotte, I approached my father. He tapped out his pipe nonchalantly and began filling it again. Nodding in slow agreement, he accepted Spencer's reason for canceling the evening and hoped he would join us upon his return.

"I'm sorry Spence can't join us, Priss," Grayson chimed in. "When you write to him, please express my hope that Benedick heals quickly. Tell him, also, I am eager to meet his family."

"Send my good wishes also," Joel added from his corner of the settee. "I, too, am most eager to meet his family."

"Thank you, Joel, Grayson," I stated politely. "I shall write to him this evening and express your sentiments."

The discussion ended when Yates appeared in the parlor and dining room doorway. His appearance meant the evening meal awaited us. Papa entered first, followed by Joel and Grayson. When I followed, Charlotte's hand encircled my upper arm, detaining me.

"You tell that hornswoggler he is not fooling me," my sister-in-law hissed menacingly. "He is deliberately avoiding me. You both concocted this excuse between you. You are getting above yourself, Prissy. Just because a Viscount notices you doesn't make you someone special. You are no better than me or anyone else. Understood?"

My temper got the better of me. I felt a fire flame into my cheeks, and my temples pounded a fast staccato. I could not control myself. In the dining room, my family waited to begin their dinner, and my obnoxious sister-in-law continued to detain me.

Lottie spoke disparagingly about the man I loved, the man I intended to marry. Spencer did nothing to offend her other than obey his father's summons. He was concerned about his younger brother and left to assure himself of his sibling's health.

Suddenly, the events of the day overflowed within me. I knew Charlotte had taken over my wedding plans by making herself the Matron of Honor. It irked me that Mama took her side against mine. She knew I intended to ask Dinah but insisted I had asked Lottie. I had not, and I knew it.

The fact that Lottie disparaged Spencer because he did not appear at her demand annoyed me. Ever since she arrived, she tried to insult me subtly. She would not slight my fiancé because he departed due to his brother's accident.

"How dare you call Spence a hornswoggler," I shouted, my anger getting the better of me. "He is not a fraud or a cheat. He's a viscount, and you should show him all due respect, you hedge-creeper, you wagtail. I don't know who you think you are!"

In the midst of my fury, I did not see Charlotte raise her hand against me. When she slapped me across the face, I staggered and fell against the mantlepiece. My knees buckled beneath me, and I slid to the floor. A figure darted past me, and Lottie began to cry hysterically.

"What happened?" Joel asked, holding his wife against his broad chest. She bawled in his arms, and he soothed her.

"That Vixen—your sister—called me a hedge creeper and a wagtail," Charlotte sputtered, gasping for breath.

"Priscilla!" Joel shouted, glaring at me over his wife's shoulder.

"She called Spencer a hornswoggler," I declared heatedly. I leaped up to confront him. "She had no business calling him a horrible name. I...I only stated the truth. It's not my fault you can't see her as she is."

"Take it back, Priscilla," my brother stated hoarsely. "You were very rude to Lottie. Don't you understand what those words mean?"

"I most certainly do," I spat in return. "Prostitute—whore!" Mustering all my dignity, I marched from the room.

Excluding myself from my sister-in-law's presence suddenly became a habit I did not greatly appreciate. It meant I absented myself from the family also. It seemed unfair, but I could not bear her company for an extended period.

I entered the nursery to discover Miss Young in Mr. Blanchard's arms. They swiftly drew away from each other.

"Would you summon Ann Marie, Miss Young," I briskly stated, "and have her bring my evening meal up here?"

"Yes, certainly," the governess responded, looking secretly at her lover. "Is anything the matter?"

Instead of responding, I burst into tears. My emotions overwhelmed me, and I covered my face with my palms. My shoulders began to quiver, and then a spasm overcame my entire body. Sinking to my knees, I hugged myself around the waist and bawled.

"Shall I summon the doctor?" I heard Hilliard Blanchard ask from a far distance.

"You better fetch Sir Joel," Claudia Young responded. "Let her father decide what to do with her."

My governess knelt by my side and placed her arm around my shoulder. I continued to shake uncontrollably. Soothing me with her soft voice, Miss Young finally helped me to stand and led me into my bed chamber. Gently, she undressed me and slid on my cotton nightdress. I got into bed, and she drew the coverlet to my chin.

The room began to spin slowly. My eyes grew hazy, and I blinked rapidly to clear them. Papa's detached voice seemed to come from different corners of the room. They echoed and surrounded me. I wanted to sleep but, at the same time, tried to force myself to become more alert. Then, the room became eerily silent.

"Priscilla," Miss Young spoke close to my ear. I turned toward her voice and found her kneeling at my bedside. "Would you like to tell me what happened?"

"Lottie," I muttered, my voice barely audible. "Lottie."

"What has Lottie done?" Claudia Young asked, grasping my cold hand in her warm one.

"She's taking over my life," I whispered, shaking my head against the pillow. "She's taking over... she's..."

"I'm sure she's not, darling," my governess soothed. "Don't imagine she is. You'll harm yourself if you start believing that."

"I assure you she is," I stated, sitting up abruptly. My sudden movement caused the room to spin again. I lay my head back against my pillow. "Lottie manipulated Mama into believing she's my Matron of Honor. She refused to accept Spencer's absence tonight and demanded his presence. She insists he did it to insult her. Oh, Miss Young!" I began to cry again.

"There, there," my governess soothed, placing a cool cloth against my forehead. "I'm sure you misunderstood. Things will look better in the morning. Get a good night's sleep, and you'll see."

Miss Young stood and lowered the flame in my bedside lamp. Standing above me, she straightened the covers and then kissed my cheek. I lay in the dim room contemplating the evening's events. Finally, I closed my eyes and drifted off.

The morning dawned, shining a shaft of light across my quilt. Believing in Miss Young's promised better day, I rose and dressed. I decided to eat breakfast on the veranda and spend an hour in the gardens. The exercise would clear my head.

Finishing my toast and tea, I wandered along the paths and picked primroses. I felt refreshed and shoved the previous evening's thoughts aside. When I heard my name called from a distance, I stopped. My shoulders slumped when I recognized Lottie's voice. She hurried to my side.

"It seems we have gotten off on the wrong foot," my sister-in-law stated, hooking her arm through my elbow. "Perhaps if we began again..."

I hesitated momentarily. Yes, I believe our relationship started with difficulties. I would have liked a friendly relationship with my brother's wife. The Everstows were a close-knit family. Rarely did conflict interfere with our pastoral country lives. I finally agreed to begin again.

"Are you planning on having children straight away?" Lottie asked as we moved along the hedgerows.

"I suppose," I answered, smiling. "I guess it depends on how quickly I become impregnated."

"My baby is due in October. I'm afraid I'm becoming a bit cumbersome now." She patted her extended belly. "If you have a boy, what will you name him?"

"Undoubtedly, I'll name him after Spence," I stated confidently. "His first name is actually Merriweather. Spencer is his middle name. Merriweather is a traditional name in their family. They would like to carry it forward into the next generation."

"What if you had a second son? You would have to choose an original name in that case," Charlotte pursued, her demeanor remaining calm and friendly.

"Oh well, Mama's maiden name was Grayson. That's how Gray got his name," I answered, plucking another primrose and tucking it behind my ear. "I am rather fond of Jesse. I should like a boy named Jesse."

"Jesse?" Lottie mulled over the name for a long time. "Yes, I do believe I like Jesse too."

We continued to stroll for a quarter of an hour longer. I felt at peace and confident that I could forge a better relationship with my sister-in-law. Lottie finally left me, naming an engagement to visit the home farm with Joel.

I entered the pond garden and sat beside the calming waters. Counting the water lilies, I smiled to myself dreamily. I imagined bringing my children home from Yorkshire to play beside the pond. Little Spencer and Jesse, I thought, smiling to myself. And perhaps a little girl or two.

What should I name them? I wondered happily. I thought of Spence's sister's Shakespearean names. I want to follow that tradition. Helena and Tamora or Valeria sprang to mind. Making a mental note, I promised to discuss the idea with my fiancé.

"I thought I would find you here," Grayson stated, squatting beside me. A grim expression etched itself across his usually happy face.

"You look down in the dumps this morning, Gray," I stated, studying his depressed countenance. "That's not like you. What's the matter?"

"Mr. Blanchard told me my date of departure this morning," my brother answered solemnly. "I don't want to go, Priss. I don't want to leave here." Tears clung to his lashes and slid down his face.

"I don't want you to go either," I moaned, flinging my arms around his neck. "I wish we could make time stand still and stay here forever."

"I keep thinking about Joel getting sent down," Gray continued, frowning. "What if I get in trouble, Priss? I don't want to embarrass Papa—not like Joel did."

"You won't get sent down, Gray. I'm sure of it," I answered truthfully. "You're not at all like Joel. Joel was very stupid, you'll admit. You'll study just like you do with Mr. Blanchard and won't look for trouble in the pubs. I know you, Grayson."

"Oxford is so far away, and I've never left home before. What if I do fail?" My brother sank back on his heels and stared into the far distance. "I'll miss you and the summerhouse and even Mr. Blanchard."

"I bet you won't miss Charlotte," I muttered, casting a pebble into the pond. "I certainly won't, and I'm going all the way to Yorkshire."

"When, Prissy?" Grayson's face became even more stricken than previously.

"Oh, in the spring, I expect. We haven't set a definite date yet," I replied. "You'll come home for Christmas, surely. I imagine the baby will have arrived by then—a new Joel Everstow." A moment of silence fell between us. We both gazed across the pond. "What do you think of the name Jesse?"

"For the new baby?" Grayson asked, a question mark forming between his brows.

"Certainly not!" I exclaimed hotly. "For my second son. I'll name the first one Merriweather, after his father, of course. I can name the second one whatever I choose. I thought I would like Jesse."

"I'd like whatever you chose, naturally," Gray answered, smiling broadly.

"How about Helena or Valeria for a girl?" I continued, hopefully.

"Shakespearean names?"

"Yes, there's a tradition in Spencer's family for those sorts of names," I responded happily. "I'd like to stick with it."

We spent the rest of the morning throwing out names from the Bard's most famous plays. It felt good to laugh and spend time together. I hated to think of the changes ahead of us—some happy, some sad. In a way, I knew it was inevitable. Life occurred relatively quickly, and we had to accept what was ahead.

Grayson's departure panged in my heart. I felt as though a part of me left, too. Ever since we came into the world, we have become close friends. I depended on him as much as he leaned on me. Oxford was a long way from home and so very different from the life we knew. Deep in my heart, I hope he will succeed where Joel failed.

The new baby brought about another change. Hopefully, a happy one, although I wondered what kind of Mother Charlotte would become. Somehow, she didn't seem very motherly to me. Perhaps she, too, would change and settle down.

As for me, I looked forward to spending my life with Spencer. I loved him and, looking into the future, saw only happiness. I smiled at my brother and clasped his hand. Grayson placed his arm around my shoulder and drew me close. Together, we looked across the pond at the rocky waterfall and dreamed about our futures.