Time held its breath. The westering sun sunk nearer the horizon. I awaited this solitary moment all year. Rising to my knees on the window seat, I pressed my forehead against the glass. A yellow beam suddenly flashed, capturing me in its glorious light. Transfixed, I basked in the final rays of spring equinox.

Everstow Manor sat in the correct position to catch the spectacular occurrence. I wondered if the original builder planned for the event or if it happened accidentally. Papa did not know the answer, nor did Joel or Grayson. The spring equinox did not hold the same fascination with them as it did with me. Perhaps my romantic disposition spurred my curiosity.

My life, up until that time, was idyllic. The Manor sat slightly north of Everstow village with its row of shops, public house, and Norman church. The villagers stood aside when we rode along the wide main road, bowing their heads slightly with respect. Joel took the lead, his head held high, while Grayson and I trotted in his wake. Our fine horses stepped lively, and we wore the most fashionable riding attire.

Dinah hung on the vicarage gate as we passed. I raised my hand in a friendly wave and halted. She came through the gate and stood in the road at my horse's flank. Grayson stopped beside me, but Joel continued until he realized we weren't following. He waited impatiently for us to continue.

"Good morning," Dinah greeted, her rosy lips smiling.

Gray and I returned her salutation, commenting on the lovely spring weather.

"Mama is baking jam tarts for the spring fete. Would you like to sample them? With a glass of cider, perhaps?"

"That sounds delightful," Grayson replied, sliding from his mount. He held my horse while I dismounted and then tethered the reins to the fence. I slid my hand into his proffered elbow, and he opened the gate.

Joel remained in the road, glaring at us. He returned and reluctantly joined us. He did not find the same delight in our young cousin as Gray and me. In fact, he avoided Dinah whenever possible. Papa and Mama expected a match between them, but Joel kept himself aloof. He had no intention of marrying Dinah and made his feelings clear.

The vicarage stood behind a low stone wall surrounded by a well-kept garden. We stepped into the parlor while Dinah went into the kitchen. Gray and I sat on the settee while Joel stood in the bow window. He kept his back to us, his hands clasped behind him.

"Blanchard is expecting our return," he stated.

I exchanged a glance with Grayson and settled further into the seat cushions. I was not in a hurry to return to the schoolroom. An hour or so away from our desks gave me pleasure. I would rather eat jam tarts and sip cider with Dinah.

When Aunt Constance appeared with our refreshment, Joel made his excuses and departed. Dinah relaxed, and we chatted amiably over the delicious tarts. After an hour, Grayson stood and, bowing gracefully, thanked the vicar's wife for the lovely repast. My cousin followed us to the gate and said her goodbyes.

"Joel was quite rude, Priss," Gray stated, walking his horse beside mine.

"Quite." I nodded in agreement. We lapsed into silence and headed toward home.

"He does not wish to marry Dinah," my brother continued after an interval.

"Dinah does not wish to marry Joel," I countered.

"Quite." Grayson focused on the village road until we turned onto the evergreen-lined drive. "Perhaps he will see things differently after he returns from Oxford."

"I think not, Gray," I responded, keeping pace beside him. "Joel is quite determined to avoid Dinah, and Dinah is unhappy to marry Joel." We left our horses at the stable and entered Everstow Manor.

Mr. Blanchard cleared his throat harshly when we entered the schoolroom. Tall and gangly, we referred to him as Everstow's Ichabod Crane. The tutor wore a swallow-tail coat with striped trousers and a white cravat. His face was thin with a patrician nose, his eyebrows bushy over dull gray eyes. He kept order over Joel and Grayson while Miss Claudia Young oversaw my education.

Joel sat at the table with a law book open in front of him. He glanced at us and returned his concentration to his studies. Our older brother pretended to absorb the material. In truth, he was a lackadaisical student who sought to impress rather than learn. He spoke with a nasal drawl and looked down his nose while he recited. Gray often imitated him, much to my hilarity.

"You may remain at your studies an extra hour," Mr. Blanchard ordered, looking up from his desk. He did not chastise us for our absence but rather implied his disappointment.

My brother and I took our seats and opened our books. Grayson showed great intelligence and learned quickly. His brilliance out-shown Joel's slow wit. At times, I believed Gray should have arrived before our elder brother. He would have embraced his familial duty and saved the Everstow name.

The day arrived when Mr. Blanchard departed with Joel for Oxford. Papa beamed with delight, knowing his son would do well at the renowned University. At first, his letters pleased Papa. They showed great promise for Joel's advancement. We did not know, at the time, how exaggerated they were. We would find out soon enough.

In the meantime, Mr. Blanchard relaxed his strenuous lessons. He concentrated on Grayson, preparing his younger student in theology. In the Everstow family, the eldest son studied jurisprudence while the younger prepared to become a vicar. Miss Young instructed me in feminine graces. I expected to attend the London Season the following year.

"I wish I was the Vicar's daughter," I blurted, dropping onto the window seat. The garden spread out beneath me with the Neptune fountain amid the branching paths. I longed for the sunshine and the first spring daffodils. I'd spent the afternoon dancing the minuet with Mr. Blanchard. "Dinah doesn't have to go to London next season."

"Dinah might have joined you if she wasn't otherwise engaged," Miss Young blandly stated.

"Dinah isn't otherwise engaged," I responded, turning from the garden view. "She won't marry Joel. That's for sure."

"Impertinence isn't becoming in a young lady," the governess remarked. "Your tongue often runs amiss. Guard against it, Priscilla."

"I was only stating a fact, Miss Young," I continued. "Joel and Dinah do not like each other. Why should they tie themselves to eternal misery?"

"It is not my place to debate the subject," Claudia Young said, pursing her mouth.

I lapsed into silence. I liked the governess despite her authoritative manner. She stood two inches taller than me and wore plain brown or blue dresses. A vicar's daughter, Claudia Young, entered service at age sixteen. Papa engaged her to teach without references. He had a soft heart for the unfortunate and gave her the best chance he could offer. She was secretly in love with Mr. Blanchard. I believed they planned to marry once Gray and I completed our education.

"It is the Equinox in two days," I stated, changing the subject.

"Shall you watch the sunset from the ballroom window?" Grayson asked, lifting his head from his heavy book.

"Certainly." I never failed to watch the glorious sunset. It entranced me.

Two days later, I knelt in the window seat and watched breathlessly as the golden orb sank lower into the sky. The world drifted away while I waited. Papa seemed tense and barely spoke to anyone. The day before, he received a message from Oxford. It disturbed him, but I didn't dare ask what the letter contained. He would not share what distressed him with his young daughter. Instead, he bottled up his problems. Since the message arrived from the University, I assumed it had something to do with Joel.

The sun sank lower until its blaze lit the evergreen boulevard. I rose to my knees and basked in the warm glow through the large paned window. Then, the village trap appeared, marring my pleasure.

"Visitors," Grayson exclaimed, flinging the door open.

Visitors rarely arrived at Everstow in the evenings. Perhaps one of Papa's London acquaintances came to call. The Equinox forgotten, Gray and I waited to see who would alight.

"It's Joel," I whispered breathlessly. My elder brother stepped from the trap and, turning, assisted his female companion.

"Whatever is he doing here?" Gray asked.

I ran into the corridor and descended the grand staircase, Grayson prancing beside me. My middle brother never walked; his feet moved to the rhythm of a natural dance step. Before we reached the ground level, Father marched into the hall. His manservant, Yates, followed closely in his wake.

"Joel," Papa called sharply.

"Yes, father?" Joel halted his stride and faced Papa. The woman clung possessively to our brother's crooked arm.

"Well." Father cleared his throat. "Well," he repeated, still hesitating. "You best introduce the...the...um...young lady, son."

"This is Lottie," Joel presented, using her name familiarly. "My father, Sir Joel Everstow."

"Pleased to meet you, Ducks," the newcomer stated, stretching out her pink gloved hand for Papa to shake.

Her sharp, high-pitched voice echoed around the great hall, halting my footsteps and Grayson's. Papa cleared his throat again and ogled the outstretched hand. Gently, Joel pushed her arm downward until it dangled limply.

Lottie unhooked her cloak and pushed back the hood, obscuring her features. Expressionless, Yates stepped briskly forward and removed it from her shoulders. She shook out a mass of yellow corkscrew curls, the color of ripe bananas. I stared at its brightness, wondering if it was natural or dyed. Then, I caught a glimpse of her costume.

Her satin gown's neckline swooped low on her heavy breasts, heaving them upward. A tight bodice accentuated her slim waistline, and the multilayered bustle called attention to her firm, round buttocks.

Her scarlet lips smiled at Joel confidently. Heavy layers of face powder made her skin look porcelain fine, and black kohl surrounded her penetrating dark pupils. Blue shadow deftly drawn on her lids created the appearance of a cat's eyes. I had never seen a woman quite like her. My middle brother gulped and clasped my hand.

Grayson and I approached Papa and stood a step behind him. We continued to ogle our brother's companion. Finally, after an intermediate time passed, Joel acknowledged our presence and introduced us.

"My brother, Grayson, and younger sister, Priscilla," Joel muttered, avoiding our stare. "Miss Charlotte Plumb." After a moment's hesitation, he added, "My bride."

An awkward silence hung over us. Papa's expression flattened, and I heard Grayson suck in his breath. I couldn't speak. My tongue turned to a lead weight in my mouth.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Gray stated, recovering his equilibrium. Taking her hand, he kissed it gently. "We are, please, aren't we, Prissy?" He inclined his head in my direction, awaiting my approval.

Lottie's eyebrows rose at the mention of my nickname, and I believe she stifled an unexpected giggle. I was not fond of the moniker, but I put up with it since it belonged to Grayson. As I grew up, my brother used it less frequently. Nevertheless, it slipped out on this occasion.

Suddenly, I found myself riveted beneath Lottie's scrutiny. Her penetrating black eyes caught mine and held them. I shifted nervously and understood how a cobra's prey felt beneath its hypnotizing stare. Her gaze traveled over my plain white shirtwaist and navy skirt, then back to my eyes. She continued to hold them as my world came to a standstill. Finally, she turned back to Joel and whispered into his ear. He smiled and half-laughed.

I shrank inside my skin. A feeling of uneasiness crept over me. What had she said to Joel that amused him about me? I pressed closer to Grayson, and he slipped his arm around my waist.

"I must apologize for the absence of Lady Everstow," Papa interrupted my troubled thoughts. "My wife is an invalid and lives entirely within her own chambers. We shall introduce her to you formally tomorrow morning. In the meantime, shall we toast the occasion? Yates?"

"As you wish, Sir," the butler murmured, slipping into the drawing room to prepare the sherry.

"If you will kindly step this way, er, Miss...Madam," Papa offered, extending his elbow.

"Whatever you say, Ducky," Lottie chirped, pressing against Father's side in an overfamiliar fashion.

"Sir Joel," I snapped, unable to control my tongue or my frustration, "not Ducky."

"Humph," Joel's companion snorted, her red lips tightening. Instant hatred filled her dark eyes, turning them into hard flint.

I returned her penetrating glare and spun on my heel. My heels clipped a hollow staccato on the fieldstones. I mounted the staircase, Lottie's high-pitched laughter echoing behind me. I raced toward the west wing and upstairs to the nursery schoolroom.

By the time I reached the third floor, I had calmed down considerably. I flung open the schoolroom door. Neither Mr. Blanchard nor Miss Young heard me enter.

"...sent down?" Claudia Young questioned, her voice sounding appalled.

"Yes, sent down," Mr. Blanchard huskily repeated. "That woman..." He clipped his statement when he saw me standing in the doorway.

I pressed my back against the door, wondering what to do. Finally, I reached for the knob, turned it, and practically fell into the corridor. I ran for my bedroom and flung myself onto the canopied bed.

Late one afternoon, I discovered the governess and tutor engaged in a heated discussion concerning Joel. I caught the words 'inattentive, drunk, fighting, failure, and bannimus.' Their conversation abruptly changed when they noticed my presence.

After much controversy, the university heads decided to expel Joel. On the day of the spring equinox, he returned with his new bride.

"Sent down indeed," I muttered, hugging my pillow. No one had ever 'gotten sent down' in Everstow history.

"What do you think of her?" Grayson asked, mincing into my room. He plopped onto the bed and hugged the other pillow.

"I'm trying not to," I remarked, gritting my teeth. "Whatever made Joel marry her."

"Listen, Priscilla." He squirmed on his butt, a sure sign he knew a secret. "After we drank the toast, Joel made one. He saluted his bride and referenced her delicate condition."

"Oh, Gray," I breathed, grabbing his arm. "She's going to have Joel's baby. That's why he married her."

"What did Father say?"

"Papa didn't say anything," Gray stated, casting his eyes downward. "His face turned purple. Yates refilled his sherry, and he regained his composure."

We sat side-by-side in awkward silence.

"I...I guess Dinah doesn't have anything to worry about," my brother finally spoke.

"Yes, I suppose so," I answered hollowly. "Lucky Dinah."