Definitely Not Mr. Darcy

“September.”

Fiona was right, Chloe couldn’t help, but she could offer her support and a shoulder to cry on, at the very least.

Fifi tugged at Chloe’s hemline. Mrs. Crescent stood at the doorway, hands on her hips. “Miss Parker! Get back into the parlor immediately.”

Fiona wriggled away and dashed down the hal .

Mrs. Crescent and Chloe knew she shouldn’t have been caring about, much less hugging, a servant. Chloe decided to help Fiona out as much as possible by doing little things like making her own bed and such. When she stepped into the parlor, the women stopped talking and stared at her, except for Imogene, who smiled.

Grace tapped a bronze telescope in the palm of her hand. She held it up to her eye and extended it toward the window. “Final y. The messenger’s here.”

Imogene slid over on the neoclassical bench and patted the empty space for Chloe to sit. When Imogene closed her book and set it on the bench, Chloe picked it up. It was a leather-bound edition of Sense and Sensibility, Volume I. At last, a true Austen fan.

“Would you like to read it when I’m done?” Imogene asked.

“I’d love to. For the fourth time.” Chloe smiled.

“It’s my third, and I discover something new every time.”

A footman knocked at the door. “Invitation from Dartworth Hal .” He bowed and presented the butler with the now-familiar creamy envelope closed with a red wax seal.

Chloe didn’t expect this invitation would be for her either. She watched as the butler cut the envelope open with a bronze letter opener and read the invitation aloud for the cameras:

“‘Dear Mrs. Crescent—’”

Mrs. Crescent winked at Chloe. Fifi wagged his tail.

The butler continued. “‘I would like to invite you and your charge to join me for a brief excursion to see the old castle ruins here on the estate.

Perhaps you could be ready to join me in the carriage at half-past ten tomorrow morning? Please apprise my footman of your decision. Yours truly, Mr. Sebastian Wrightman.’”

Mrs. Crescent al but squealed. Chloe had to smile at the prospect of ambling around castle ruins—with Sebastian.

Grace stood with her hands on her hips. “But she hasn’t earned twenty-five Accomplishment Points yet. And the castle ruins! Humph!”

The women al turned to look at one another.

Chloe looked at Imogene.

“I’l tel you later,” Imogene whispered.

“Mr. Wrightman is exercising his prerogative to override the Accomplishment Points rule. You may inform Mr. Wrightman,” Mrs. Crescent said to the footman, “that I graciously accept his invitation and my charge and I wil be ready.” She pushed herself up from the settee. “Much to do, Miss Parker. We must excuse ourselves—”

“Excuse me, Mrs. Crescent,” the butler interrupted. “But there is another envelope here.” The footman handed over another creamy envelope with a red wax seal.

Mrs. Crescent sat down with a huff and Grace stifled a laugh. The butler opened the second envelope, and as he read it aloud, the women sat on the edge of their scrol -armed seats.

“‘Dear Ladies of Bridesbridge Place, you are al cordial y invited to dinner at Dartworth Hal tomorrow evening. My carriage wil arrive at four o’clock. I very much look forward to the pleasure of your company. Sincerely, Mr. Wrightman.’”

Chloe didn’t quite know how to take this news. It seemed to almost cancel out her morning excursion with him.

Which may have been why the edge of Grace’s mouth curled into a smile. “You may tel Mr. Wrightman that I accept,” Grace said.

“Surely we al accept, don’t we?” Mrs. Crescent looked at the women and their chaperones. Everyone nodded.

As the women fel into discussion, Grace put the telescope on the side table next to Chloe and leaned over. “Prepare yourself for the Invitation Ceremony before dinner tomorrow,” she whispered.

“What?”

“It happens before every formal dinner at Dartworth. Fourteen women have been sent home already. He’s very cutthroat. He only keeps a woman here if he can envision her as his future wife. Unless your outing with him goes extremely wel , he’l send you right back to the hole you crawled out of.”

Chapter 7

T he gal of that woman,” Chloe whispered to Mrs. Crescent as they took a turn in the rose garden with Chloe’s cameraman in front of them.

Mrs. Crescent snapped her fingers. “Gal ! That reminds me. We can get ahead on a task right now—your task for day after tomorrow is to make your own ink.”

“And the connection to gal is—?” Chloe did her best to navigate her chaperone’s thought patterns, but there didn’t seem to be a pattern she could discern yet.