Free His Impassioned Proposal (The Bridgethorpe Brides) by Aileen Fish

Lady Bridgethorpe assigned Jane, Hannah and Patience, Hannah’s next-younger sister, to portray the three witches in the cauldron scene from Macbeth. Wearing dirty, ragged gowns, moth-eaten wool shawls draped over their heads, the three girls assumed the tableau described by Lady Bridgethorpe and froze in place while the rest of the partiers tried to guess the scene.
    Asking three vivacious young ladies to remain motionless and speechless for any length of time, especially with an audience in attendance and assorted brothers calling out heckling remarks and ridiculous guesses, was an exercise in futility. What began as a sputter from Hannah spread to Patience, who snickered, then Jane giggled. Trying hard to not focus on the other two, Jane closed her eyes, but could hear Hannah’s rapid breathing signaling her silent laughter.
    “Shh,” Jane pleaded, too late.
    Hannah erupted into loud cackles, only slightly in character as one of the crones. She leaned closer to Jane and wrapped her arms around her, drawing in a gasping breath for another round of laughter.
    Jane hugged her, then reached to bring Patience into their circle. As the three giggling misses scurried from the room to remove their costumes, Lady Bridgethorpe could be heard announcing the subject of their tableau , which no one had guessed. She then directed her guests to the refreshments before taking their places at the card tables.
    “Oh, I thought I would burst from holding my breath,” Patience cried, patting her hair back into place after removing the ragged gown.
    “I don’t understand why Mama insists on us performing tableaux each year, when she knows we cannot stay silent.” Hannah retied the satin ribbon around the empire waistline of her lavender-sprigged gown.
    “I imagine she hopes one day we shall grow into fine young ladies,” said Jane. She met the eyes of her two friends and they burst into giggles once again.
    “I do so hate to disappoint her,” Hannah commented, gasping for breath. “Let us return to the party before the refreshments are all eaten. All this laughter has made me quite hungry.”
    As they stepped out into the hallway, Jane heard a gentleman clear his throat. Turning, she saw Stephen leaning against the doorway of the next room.
    He smiled when she met his gaze. “Jane, how well you look.”
    Hannah touched Jane’s arm. “We’ll go on ahead, but don’t be long. Mama will wonder where you are.”
    “As will my mother, no doubt. I will be right behind you.” Jane turned back toward Stephen, trying to quell the quivering in her stomach. “Hello, Stephen. I didn’t expect you to attend tonight’s festivities.”
    “I’m not certain it was a wise plan.” He straightened and took her arm in his, but made no move toward the party. “Twelfth Night was my mother’s favorite festivity. I felt I should honor her by attending.”
    Sadness hooded his eyes at mention of his mother, making Jane want to take him into her arms and hold him until the world looked more kindly upon him. As that would be misconstrued by Stephen and most of the others in the parlor, she simply said, “She would be pleased. I remember how much she enjoyed the charades and singing.”
    “It is very odd not having them here tonight, or at supper on Christmas Day.”
    Wanting to return to the gathering before her absence was noted, and unsure how she felt about being alone with Stephen, Jane took a step down the hallway, hoping Stephen would follow. He did, albeit only half a step, dragging down the pace.
    Jane patted his coat sleeve. “You must be missing them sorely.”
    “I’ve thought about returning to London for a time.” Stephen continued to pace slowly forward as he spoke. “I didn’t expect to see them at every turn when I was in Town. Much unlike when I’m at Larkspur Cottage. I’m always startled when Mrs. Loughty wishes to discuss the day’s menu with me, or Simmons brings word of how the fields are faring in the cold. Then