I couldn’t understand it. Had I done something wrong? I wasn’t expecting anything grand. Just a small acknowledgment that he was happy to see me. One of our shared, knowing glances. He had no problems with sly winks or smiles before. Why was he ignoring me now? Then, I was furious with myself. I was behaving like a child. What could I really expect of him? His wife and daughter were there. I would see him at the picnic, where I was sure he would pay me at least some attention or maybe contrive a way for us to be alone.

My only means of transportation to the picnic was the pharmacy bicycle, which was in the alley behind the store. To avoid Father, I went around the block to the back of the pharmacy, rather than the front door. I took the bicycle and quietly rode away.

I didn’t know how fashionable it would be to arrive on a bicycle, so I took the long way out of town, avoiding the main route, which was sure to be an endless train of guests heading to the picnic. I made it to Willow Lake without being seen, but as there was only one road leading to the Nightingale House, it could no longer be avoided. As I suspected, there was a steady stream of fancy carriages. Even at a distance, I could see the white tables and chairs arranged on the lawn. I did my best to keep my head up as I pedaled alongside the carriages, but it was so humiliating. There were some polite ‘hellos’ and I caught one or two derisive chuckles.

But the worst was just beginning.

To my horror, I saw that Thomas and Mrs. Carrington were out front, greeting the guests as they arrived. I almost turned and rode away but it was too late. The road wasn’t wide enough to turn and if I tried to brake, I would be thrown.

With as much dignity as I could muster, I brought the bike to a stop, rested it against the bushes, and walked to the gate.

Mrs. Carrington smiled at me as if it was all perfectly normal. Thomas looked bored.

“Thank you so much for coming, Ms. Harker,” Mrs. Carrington said.

I thanked her for inviting me. As much as I didn’t like seeing her there, I was grateful to her for making me feel welcome.

I turned to Thomas. With my back to his wife, I tried to give him a coy smile. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Carrington.”

He shook my hand with a cordial grip. “Please enjoy yourself at our home.”

He released my hand and went on to the next guest.

That was it. No playful pressing of his finger to my palm. No wink. No vicious smile.

I was no one.