Mrs. Summers didn’t return the gesture. “Have you recovered from your scare?”
Evie wasn’t certain it was possible to ever be fully recovered from such a scare, but she felt the need to reassure her friend. “Quite, thank you. And you? Are you feeling at all better?”
“In some regards,” Mrs. Summers replied.
“I…you’re angry with me.”
“I am, rather,” Mrs. Summers admitted with a short sigh. “And I should like to discuss what happened today.” She folded her hands in front of her primly, sighed again, and said, “It has appeared to me, from the very start, that you have not fully grasped the seriousness of this situation, Evie. I attributed your poise to bravery and a confidence in your family’s ability to see you safe. But after today—”
“I am confident in my family,” Evie cut in, taken aback.
“And you are a very brave young woman,” Mrs. Summers agreed. “But the extent of your assuredness leaves me troubled, and this carelessness strikes me as most unusual. I should like an explanation.”
Evie shifted her feet and repressed the urge to wince. An explanation to Mrs. Summers would no doubt result in a lecture from Mrs. Summers. An unpleasant prospect, to be sure, but there was no avoiding it.
Evie cleared her throat. “Perhaps we should sit.”
“Very well.” Mrs. Summers moved to the nearest chair and lowered herself to perch on the very edge of the seat, her back ramrod straight and her narrow shoulders tense.
The stiff—well, stiffer than usual—posture made Evie nervous. But it was the look that worried her most. The raised brows, the tight lips, and the sad eyes all added to the impression of a woman bearing up under the strain of receiving a confession that would most assuredly break her heart.
Evie took a seat across from her. “I…” She bounded up again. “Should I fetch us some tea? It would only take a minute.”
“Thank you, no.”
She regained her seat slowly. “Are you comfortable?” She certainly didn’t look it. “Perhaps we should move—”
“I am quite content with this room and this chair.”
“Oh. Right. Good…But perhaps—”
“Get on with it, Evie.”
“Right. Well.” Because she needed to do something, Evie straightened her own shoulders and blew out a long breath. “A fortnight ago, or thereabout, I…I overheard a conversation in the library between you, Lady Thurston, and Mr. Fletcher.”
Mrs. Summers raised one brow even higher. “Overheard? How?”
“Oh, just…” She waved her hand about. “By chance. That’s not really relevant at present.” Not if she could help it. “What is relevant is the topic of that discussion. You were plotting a scenario in which I was to find a husband. Or, to be more accurate, in which you were to find a husband for me. A scenario that very much resembles the one we are in now.” Except for the shooting bit, of course. And the riding through the woods with McAlistair bit. And possibly the fact that she was in a secluded location with three gentlemen who were not, for a variety of reasons, the most likely of matches.
Bloody hell, she was an idiot.
She fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve. “I was under the impression the threat, this entire trip, was nothing more than a matchmaking scheme.”
“A matchmaking—?” Mrs. Summers broke off and closed her eyes. “Oh, good Lord, William’s plan.”
Evie nodded. “He spoke of sending a threatening letter, and not long after, I received one. I thought I would play along, in the interest of settling this idea of marriage once and for all. I’ll admit I was a bit confused when it was decided I should leave Haldon, and I was a little put out when the carriage—”
“The carriage.” Mrs. Summers’ eyes snapped open. “You think so little of me? Of all of us?”
“Little of you? Of course not—”
“Yet you would believe us capable of cruelly engineering a carriage accident simply to trick you? After what you had been through as a child?”
“I—” She hadn’t thought of that, not once. “It didn’t occur to me. I…I’m not afraid of carriages. I’ve never been afraid of them.”
“That is not the point.”
“Well, it was a point,” Evie argued, “and an important one. If I had a fear of being in a carriage accident, then engineering one would have been a cruel trick. One I would have known you are incapable of. As it is—”
“As it is…you would accuse us of being deceivers and actresses and—”
“You weren’t involved then, in Sophie and Alex’s meeting? Or the business with Whit and Mirabelle?”
Mrs. Summers hesitated before answering. “I had nothing to do with Whit and Mirabelle’s matching.”
“But you had everything to do with Sophie and Alex…”