The Finding of Miss Fairfield, page 1
part #1 of Aprons & Veils Book One Series
THE FINDING OF MISS FAIRFIELD
APRONS & VEILS BOOK ONE
GRACE HITCHCOCK
CONTENTS
Dedication
2 Timothy 1:7
Lord Alfred Tennyson Quote
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
26. Book Two in the Aprons & Veils Series: The Pursuit of Miss Parish
Nearing Colorado Springs, June 1899
Author’s Note
More from Grace Hitchcock
Praise for Grace Hitchcock’s Novels:
The Finding of Miss Fairfield © 2022 by Grace Hitchcock
Published by Valmont House Publishers
GraceHitchcock.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the author.
Names: Hitchcock, Grace, author.
Title: The Finding of Miss Fairfield / Grace Hitchcock
Other Titles: the finding of miss fairfield
Series: Aprons and Veils; book 1
Identifiers: ISBN 979-8-9858217-2-7 (eBook) | ISBN 979-8-9858217-1-0 (Paperback) | ISBN 979-8-9858217-3-4 (Hardback)
Subjects: Christian Romantic suspense fiction
All scripture quotations, unless otherwise noted, are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, living or dead, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
Author is represented by The Steve Laube Agency.
For Declan,
A dream long since dreamed.
Mama
“For God hath not given us the spirit of fear;
but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.”
2 Timothy 1:7
“If I were loved, as I desire to be,
What is there in the great sphere of the earth,
And range of evil between death and birth,
That I should fear—if I were loved by thee?”
~ Lord Alfred Tennyson
CHAPTER 1
Charleston, South Carolina
February 1899
Sophia Fairfield’s heart skipped at the sight of Mother holding a damp handkerchief to her eyes as Father and his business partner, Prescott Payne, stood before the floor-length windows facing Charleston Harbor with their heads together, speaking in low, somber tones over the crackling of the fireplace. They halted their whispering when they caught sight of her standing in the second-floor East drawing room doorway, her reticule dangling from her fingertips with her box of new poetry, papers, and pencils propped on her hip. “Mother? What’s wrong?”
Mr. Payne stepped forward, his emerald eyes capturing hers in a most disconcerting fashion. Grinning down at her, he ran his hand over his neatly trimmed gray beard. “My dearest Sophia, I’ve spoken with your father and mother, and they have wholeheartedly given us their blessing to wed.”
Sophia’s stomach dropped, her limbs aching to bolt from the parlor as the grandfather clock in the corner sounded the noon hour. Her gaze darted to Mother’s elated face. Sophia had only accepted Mr. Payne’s suit last month as a courtesy to her father, intending on ending things once Mr. Payne saw that they were ill-suited for one another, given he was over twice her age, but he had apparently not understood her subtle hints for him to cease his efforts. Or not even cared, given he sought my father’s answer instead of my own.
“Is my darling bride-to-be speechless at last?” Prescott held his hand out to her, inviting her to join him.
Bride-to-be? The box slipped from her grasp, the items scattering about the floor. She dropped to her knee to retrieve them, but Father crossed the room and seized her arm.
“Leave it for Belle.” He waved forward the petite maid standing beside the tea service.
Sophia sent her friend an apologetic smile as Father drew her away into the gilded parlor. Though a small room, gold leaf adorned the crown molding and the ornate medallion with the gold and crystal chandelier in the center of the room that illuminated the platinum wall coverings that perfectly matched the opposite West parlor room. Mother had to have a matching set of French chandeliers of her own after her visit to her sister’s in New York.
“I have already accepted his hand on your behalf, daughter. You will wed as soon as you choose the day. We were just discussing the arrangements right before you returned home from your little shopping expedition on King Street.”
Perhaps I can reason with Father when Prescott departs? But one glance at the pride radiating from her father, she knew it would be hopeless and she would never have the courage to stand against him. Like every time before, she would wilt beneath his crushing will despite her best arguments. She glanced down at her ring finger. She had been fortunate he had never pressed her into a marriage before now . . . but she supposed being the seventh, homeliest child of nine had something to do with it, and now that her youngest and prettiest sisters had wed at Christmas, she should have suspected she was next.
Mr. Payne captured her hand and slid a gold ring with a ruby cushioned by a pearl on either side onto her shaking finger. “What a lovely bride you will be, my dear. I am a fortunate man indeed to have found three women in one lifetime whom I have loved.” He kissed her fingertips, his bushy mustache brushing against them and making her jerk back her hand. He narrowed his gaze for a half second before laughing.
Her? A lovely bride? She had been told far too often to keep her bangs trimmed and tidy to hide her high hairline and scolded more often than not for reading too late as it made her eyes habitually shadowed. No one in this family had ever accused her of being a beauty, except perhaps her youngest sister Jane. But Jane was the sweetest of the Fairfield daughters. Maybe it was because of her plainness, Sophia had never thought she would be required to marry. It would have required too much financially of her father to make a good match with a handsome suitor. She worried her bottom lip. Prescott, though twice her age, had retained his charm and could have had any of the society widows. What has Father offered him to lure him into a match?
“My second wife was a widow, so I have forgotten how you young brides can be with your wedding nerves,” Mr. Payne said to her, conspiratorially elbowing Father.
Mother had the decency to blush while Father joined in the bawdy laughter, slapping Mr. Payne on the shoulder.
She swallowed back her protest over their assumption that she would marry Mr. Payne, but she could not broach the subject while he was in the home. She would have to do battle in secret. She had never stood up to Father’s demands before, but her parents had not set their sights solely on marrying her off before. She studied the ruby and all that was tied to it. She twisted it around her finger.
Mother grasped Sophia’s hand and admired the gem before turning her bright smile up at Prescott. “It is magnificent. Well done, Mr. Payne. We will make the announcement at Sophia’s birthday dinner party tonight. My daughter’s engagement to Prescott Payne on her twenty-fifth birthday will be a surprise and delight to all who attend. I would love for Sophia to have a June wedding, but it is rather far away.”
Sophia gripped the back of the settee to ground herself. Please Lord, give me the courage to speak with my father and be victorious just this once. I cannot lose when there is so much at stake. Now that her siblings were married, she was supposed to have this time to herself—to enjoy being the only daughter in the Fairfield house, to spend her days studying and tutoring her nieces and nephews, as well as the dear girls at the orphanage.
“Two months will be more than sufficient to plan a wedding fit for American royalty,” Prescott replied, dismissing Mother’s suggestion without so much as an apology. He snatched up his burgundy planter’s hat and cane from the settee and turned on his boot’s heel to face Sophia. “I must depart to dress for our engagement party, but know that I am counting the minutes until we wed, my sweet girl.”
Then you will be counting forever if I have my way. She managed a weak smile, willing herself to be silent until they were alone. For if she did indeed lose this battle, she did not want Prescott to think of her as a spineless woman, even if everyone else in this family thought it was true. She waited for the downstairs front door to close behind him and crossed the drawing room to the window, watching the happy couples and families in carriages passing below her on East Bay Street. She closed her eyes against the sight, silence greeting her ears. She ached for the days when the house was filled with the sounds of her siblings running up and down the stairs, laughter filling the home—no matter how much they teased her for her looks and her nose always being stuck in a poetry book.
“Don’t you think it is a little soon for me to consider
“It certainly is not. For some reason, he considers you attractive even though you are practically an old maid and well,” he motioned at her with one hand.
“Ernest.” Mother cleared her throat. “What your father means is that he’s far more established than any other suitor you have ever entertained.”
“At fifty-five, one would hope for establishment, but I’ve only entertained the suitors my sisters rejected who only wanted to call upon me in order to become better acquainted with Father and his shipping industry,” Sophia mumbled, running her fingertip over the wavy glass, longing to be out of doors, even if it was freezing, to be away from his oppressive gaze. At least on the portico she could breathe and pretend not to be trapped by her parents’ expectations.
Father sighed and gently grasped her wrist, turning her toward him. “You are trying my patience with your protests, my dear. You must admit I have been more than indulgent of your sisters’ choices in suitors, and your lack of interest in suitors in the past, but you cannot stay in my household forever. And if you will not pick a gentleman who suits your fancy and who actually wishes to marry you, I will.”
Mother rested a staying hand on Sophia, quieting her protest. “Sophia, you know Prescott could have his pick of any widow in Charleston and yet, he has chosen you, and we couldn’t be happier with the match.”
She lowered her head, her cheeks flaming with suppressed anger at her helplessness. “I am well aware of that fact, but you see, I didn’t choose him. Father did. And how on earth he could expect that I would be happy with a man better suited to be my aging uncle than my husband, I’ll never know.”
Mother gasped. “Sophia Bird Fairfield! Such an outburst is not to be borne. Apologize to your father at once.”
Father held up his hand, the diamond in his gold ring on his little finger shimmering. “No, she’s right. I was the one urging you to accept my friend as a suitor in the first place, and I’m the one who has accepted his hand for you.” He took Sophia’s hand in his with a tenderness she had not felt in years. “I’ve always had your best interests in mind, which sometimes means I have to make the difficult decisions for you. As a little girl, you trusted me to take care of you, but after that bout with scarlet fever that weakened you, I had to be, what appeared at the time, callous in my choices for you.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “All I ask is that you trust me again, Sophia, and know I will do what is right for you.”
“I do trust you, but am I never to have a voice? Or would you have me follow your will on this as I have done for everything else in my life because it’s easier than disagreeing with you?” She bit her lip at the hardness returning to his eyes. Sophia’s will waivered as it always did in the face of his disapproval, and he knew it.
“Your siblings have all made marriages of advancement. This would not only make me happy, but I’ve spoken with your brothers Elton, Thomas, and Robert. They all agree that Prescott is a most advantageous match for the family. As my business partner, and a gentleman of great means in his own right, I know Prescott has stature among not only all of Charleston, but nationally. He will take care of you in the manner you are accustomed to and will give you all that your heart desires.” He gave her a little smirk. “I imagine he would provide you with a library full of every poetry book you have ever dreamed of possessing.”
Mother nodded, placing her arm about Sophia’s petite waist. “And more importantly, Prescott expressed to me how much he adores you.”
“We have only been seeing each other for a month . . .” Sophia shook her head, incredulous at the news. She could count on her right hand the weeks he had called upon her. “No, it hasn’t even been a month because he was out of the city for a week, so how on earth could he possibly adore me?”
“Sometimes, it only takes a day.” Mother smiled up at Father. “It only took a moment for us to fall in love.” She stroked Sophia’s cheek, tucking a stray flaxen lock behind her ear. “A love for Prescott will come. Trust us. Just give it time.”
* * *
Seated in the middle of the massive mahogany dining table with Mr. Payne on her left, Sophia felt on display in her copper silk creation from Worth with its daring neckline, which Mother had insisted upon. And seeing as Mother would broach no argument, Sophia defiantly had her bangs braided back to reveal her high hairline, despite her mother’s expressed disapproval.
Sophia glanced to her right where Mother was making small talk with her dinner guests across the table, her siblings and their spouses sprinkled throughout the group of close friends. Sophia struggled to keep her expressions from reflecting the dread she had been attempting to mask all evening in the flickering light of the Girandoles, their four candlesticks further illuminated in the convex looking glasses.
Smoothing her silk skirt, she attempted to slow her racing heart and focused on the melodies of the string quartet. Mother hated lulls in conversation, so she always had soft music flowing through the foyer from the downstairs parlor during dinner parties, which sometimes made for a noisy dinner, but for once, Sophia did not mind as it gave her time to collect her thoughts. How had this afternoon gone so differently than she had hoped?
When she had broached the topic of becoming an English tutor for the other young ladies of Charleston, as well as continuing her work at the orphanage, both her parents scoffed at her offering—even though she had been the one to teach her nieces and nephews how to not only read but enjoy the study of poetry. While her parents saw her tutoring in the orphanage little more than wasted charity, Sophia knew she was making a difference as two of her charges, who were aging out of the orphanage, obtained positions as English teachers.
If she wasn’t allowed to tutor, what other choice did she have? According to her father, she needed to have her own home at once—to be provided for as a gentlewoman. Without the option of a position, she was left with no other choice. Lord, give me direction. Send me someone else! Or give me a way out of this marriage.
“You are radiant this evening, my darling.”
His deep voice awoke Sophia from her reverie, and she looked to her intended. He was a well-preserved gentleman for his age and if they had time together, perhaps she could indeed become friends with him even if the thought of sharing a life with him made her stomach turn. “Thank you, Mr. Payne.”
“I believe it would be appropriate now for us to address one another by our given names. After all, we are betrothed,” he grinned, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight that further shadowed his crow’s feet.
“Very well, Prescott.” She took a substantial bite from her sweet potato roll to avoid saying anything else. The sweet bread caught in her throat, and she released a series of strangled coughs that had her reaching for her water glass and her mother shooting her a scowl.
“I wish you did not feel so nervous around me, Sophia.” Prescott chuckled, returning his attention to his mushroom soup.
“Nervous? Why ever would you think that?” Sophia cleared her throat and took a spoonful of soup but missed her mouth slightly. She snatched up her napkin and dabbed her reddening cheek.
His hand slid over the tablecloth and encased hers. “Because, besides almost choking on your bread, I can feel your hand trembling.” He smiled. “A sweet trait for a bride-to-be, but as your future groom, I would like a bit more from you than a chaste kiss on the hand.”
“More?” Her voice cracked. What is he asking?
