Mercy wished she could put him at ease, but she didn’t know what to say and couldn’t muster any enthusiasm. Her melancholy wasn’t fair to her suitors. Her mood wasn’t their fault, and they deserved better from her. But the truth was, the more she sat through the meetings, the more the life drained from her until she was all but emptied out.

In the end, what difference would it make whom she chose to marry? She’d never had much control over her life. Even if she’d come to a new place with the hope of having some say, she’d learned right well that wasn’t likely to happen. The struggles of being poor and being a woman had followed her to her new home and seemed all too eager to stick with her. Would she be more satisfied if she simply accepted her lot in life?

As the man rose to leave, Mercy forced a smile and thanked him politely. Once he exited, Mr. Scott rapidly entered the room.

“He’s the last one.” The reverend eyed her with a solemn expression. “I shall wait as you take a few minutes to examine all the evidence presented to you and then make your choice of a husband.”

She heard laughter coming from the room opposite the parlor, where two other poor women were meeting with suitors. If the laughter was any indication, they seemed to be enjoying the attention and flattery of the men.

“Well?” he asked.

Mr. Scott had given her but a few seconds to decide. She supposed that even if she had a few days, she still wouldn’t be able to make a decision about which of the men to marry. She didn’t want any of them. She didn’t want any man . . . except Joseph.

In the hours since meeting with Joseph after the church service, she’d done little else but think about him, especially his declaration of love. But what did he see in her when he could have just about any woman he wanted?

She turned and found herself staring into a mirror. She’d steadfastly ignored her reflection thus far, not daring to look. Before she could truly focus, she shifted her gaze to the cushioned chair.

Was she afraid of what she’d see if she took a long look at herself?

“Don’t get stuck thinking that you don’t matter or that you’re not important enough.”

Mrs. Moresby’s words had echoed through her mind since the walk home from the cricket game. Had Mercy gotten stuck thinking she wasn’t important enough because she was poor and a woman? Had she too easily bowed her head, letting others dictate how she should live? Was she doing that even now with Mr. Scott?

Timidly, she glanced up and peeked at herself in the mirror. The person peering back at her was hanging her head and shoulders.