Free A Distant Shore by Kate Hewitt Page A

grieves me sorely.” She smiled sadly, her lips trembling. “Which, in turn I fear, only annoys you more.”
    Ian stared at her, wishing he could offer words of comfort, yet not knowing what they would be. He knew she was, at least in part, correct in her suspicions. He had drawn away from her rather than face another battle about Riddell’s money. He just hadn’t realized she’d noticed.
    “Caroline—” he began, but she shook her head, her eyes now bright with tears.
    “Let us not speak of it,” she murmured, and brushed past him into the hall.

    “Isobel!”
    Margaret sailed into the drawing room with her usual graceful flourish, kissing her sister-in-law on both cheeks before gesturing for her to sit in one of the chintz-covered chairs by the fireplace. “I’ve asked Ella to bring tea,” she said, sitting across from Isobel and arranging her green and gold striped skirts around her. As usual, Margaret looked lovely and vibrant in the latest fashion, her Gigot sleeves flaring to the elbow and then tight to the wrist. Her hair was arranged in a sleek chignon, with clusters of curls dancing at her brow. She smiled merrily. “I have had such pleasant news. My niece, Margaret MacDougall—Maggie, as she’s called—will be coming to stay with me while Henry is away. She is to arrive at the end of the week.”
    “Mother told me,” Isobel murmured. “It is indeed pleasant for you to have company at this trying time.”
    Margaret cocked her head, her eyes bright with speculation. “Indeed. Pray forgive me if I am speaking out of turn, but dear Isobel, you do look a little peaked.”
    “Do I?” Isobel tried to smile, although she had hardly felt anything close to happiness since her father had forbidden her to put her name on Mr. Anderson’s list a week ago. She had attempted to talk to him again, and he had been quite severe with her. Her mother she had not dared speak to at all, for her stony expression was far too forbidding.
    Both of her parents, Isobel had mused with quiet desolation, had become even more determined for her not to marry a missionary, or at least put her name on the list of women who were willing to do so. And just as they had deepened their convictions, so had Isobel. There was nothing for her in Boston but more of the same—teaching and living with her parents. The older she became the drearier such a life would seem. She had to find a way to escape.
    She had to put her name on that list.
    Ella bustled quietly in with the tea tray, and the next few moments were taken up with pouring, giving Isobel enough time to gather her courage and tell Margaret of her plan. Her sister-in-law was her last hope for getting herself on that list; she thought Margaret, with her confidence and determination, just might prevail where she had not succeeded.
    “If truth be told,” she said, taking a sip of tea, “I have had quite a bit on my mind this last week.”
    Margaret’s expression sharpened with interest and Isobel saw her sister-in-law’s eyebrows arch over the rim of her teacup. “Have you?”
    “Yes, indeed.” Isobel set her cup down and took a deep breath. “I’m sure you can appreciate, Margaret, that my lot these last ten years has not been an easy one.”
    Margaret’s expression sobered and she set her teacup down as well. “The life of an unmarried woman is never easy,” she agreed quietly, “although I would think the First School would afford you some pleasure as well as purpose.”
    “It does,” Isobel assured her. Margaret had started the school, and though with Charlotte she had too many cares to continue, Isobel knew the cause was still dear to Margaret’s heart... more dear, she suspected, than it was to her own. “But I confess, I do not relish a continued life of teaching and living at my parents’ home.”
    Margaret considered the matter for a moment. “Perhaps there are more options available to you than you might realize,” she said finally. “Women are able