Abigail Jones (Chronicles of Abigail Jones #1) by Grace Callaway

their food—and each other.
    "Mr. Simon," she said loudly, "I should like to share some very exciting news."
    Mr. Simon looked up from his plate of food. He had the broad, weathered face of a farmer and the quiet manner of a man more at ease with crops than people.
    "I was in the village today," his wife continued, "and who did I chance to encounter but Mrs. Castlebury herself."
    She waited for a response to her grand announcement; there was none. Not unless one counted fourteen-year-old George poking at Jack with the stick he wielded with clandestine expertise beneath the table. Jack growled a warning; George grinned.
    "As you'll recall," Mrs. Simon said, with a glare at the two, which somehow got transferred to me, "Mrs. Castlebury is the wife of the Mayor. Like myself, she is also related to nobility; an uncle on the mother's side is a viscount, I believe. Very good people, the Castleburys."
    I nodded politely. "Good people" were one of Mrs. Simon's favorite topics. I often wondered why she, who claimed a distant connection to a baron, had deigned to marry the prosperous but unassuming farmer at the other end of the table. Mrs. Beecher had mentioned something about Mrs. Simon's family coming "down in the world."
    Never mind her complaints, Abigail , the housekeeper had said with a snort. Stella Simon sleeps in a bed of her own making — and a fruitful one at that .
    "What's so exciting about that, Mum?" George asked. "You see Mrs. Castlebury all the time."
    "The proper address is Mama , George. How many times must I remind you?" Mrs. Simon gave her son a reproving look. "The difference is that this time Mrs. Castlebury has invited me to be on the St. Alban's Parish Ladies' Planning Committee."
    "Planning? For what?" George asked.
    "There is to be a spring assembly." Mrs. Simon's eyes lit up with triumph.
    The news elicited gasps and excited chatter around the table. Only Mr. Simon stayed quiet, continuing to cut away at his roasted joint without looking up.
    "Oh, Mama, will there be dancing?" This came from Sally, Mrs. Simon's eldest daughter, who was near my age.
    "It will be sponsored by the Church, so it will be a very decent affair. Perhaps a few country dances," Mrs. Simon allowed. "I will be amongst those in charge of preparations—deciding upon decorations, refreshments and, most importantly, who shall receive invitations."
    "Not everyone will be invited?" George asked.
    "Of course not. What would be the point? The list is to be exclusive, limited to those with good standing in the community."
    Mrs. Simon's gaze landed on me, and I felt myself flushing. I told myself it did not matter. The last place I would want to go was a public gathering. I had no liking for strangers or strange situations, and I did not even know how to dance.
    "Given the connections of the Planning Committee, there is like to be more than a few titles in attendance as well," Mrs. Simon continued. "We will have to put our best foot forward—new dresses will need to be made up for Sally and Charlotte and shirts and neck-cloths for the boys."
    "Oh, Mama!" her daughters exclaimed. Her sons responded with a good deal less enthusiasm.
    I felt an elbow nudge my side.
    "Do you think the earl will come, Abby?" Mary Jane asked around a mouthful of bread.
    A chill silence descended upon our end of the table.
    "Mary Jane," her mother said in a pleasant way that had my nape tingling, "you must remember this will be a gathering of good society. Decent people. I am sure his lordship would find it not at all to his taste. Don't you agree, Abigail?"
    For some reason, the set down issued to my employer set my teeth on edge. Mayhap it was the fact that he had promoted me to secretary, making me an ambassador to his good name. Or mayhap it was that he was not here to defend himself (not, I admitted, that he would have given a damn). Most likely, my irritation had to do with the fact that his lordship had shown faith in me when most others would not have. What