The Secret of Pembrooke Park by Julie Klassen

interest in her.
    Certain she was right, Abigail said little as she walked them out. But then Mr. Chapman surprised her yet again.
    He turned to her and said, “Miss Foster, will you dine with my family this evening, since you’re on your own here?”
    She hesitated, not sure how to refuse. “It isn’t very much notice. Won’t your family mind?”
    “Not in the least. They shall be delighted, and heaven knows Mamma is used to me showing up with guests at mealtimes. I am no cook, and the parsonage kitchen is from the dark ages.”
    “Very true,” Kitty said. “Yes, do come, Miss Foster.”
    William added, “Mother has been pestering Leah and me to bring you by. She wants to meet our new neighbor.”
    Seeing Kitty’s hopeful smile, Abigail said, “In that case, I will happily accept. Thank you.”
    “Excellent. Will five o’clock be convenient? We eat unfashionably early here.”
    “I don’t mind at all.” She smiled and drew herself up. “Well, I had better go back down and let Mrs. Walsh know not to make up a tray for me.”
    They bid her farewell and turned to go. But then Kitty turned back once more. “Oh, I hear people in London dress up for dinner. But no need. We’re informal at home.”
    Abigail looked to her brother for confirmation.
    “Kitty is right. You are perfect as you are.” He held her gaze as he said it.
    Abigail felt her cheeks warm. Surely he was referring to what she was wearing—that’s all.
    Avoiding his eyes, Abigail addressed his sister. “Thank you, Kitty. That is good to know.”
    Kitty nodded and smiled. “We girls must stick together.”

    William walked his sister back home. He was glad he’d thought to invite Miss Foster to dinner. She had been alone too much of late.And he hoped it would make up for his less than polite behavior during the tour. His curiosity was natural enough, but he ought to have restrained himself.
    Beside him, Kitty pulled something from her pelisse pocket.
    “What is that?” he asked.
    “It’s a basket. From the Pembrooke dolls’ house.”
    William stopped in his tracks, stunned. “You took it?”
    She rolled her eyes and scoffed, “I am not stealing it. Only borrowing it. I want to show Leah.”
    “Why?”
    “It looks very much like the baskets she makes, does it not?”
    He squinted at it but failed to be impressed. “Looks like any old basket to me. Did you ask if you could borrow it?”
    “I meant to when I came and found the two of you. But then we began talking about the portrait and I quite forgot.”
    “You must give it back to Miss Foster. And apologize for taking it.” He gave her his most withering look of clerical exhortation.
    She screwed up her face. “Of course I will.”
    When they entered the cottage, there sat his mother and sister in their customary chairs in the sitting room, knitting.
    Kitty hurried over to her sister. “Look at this.”
    Leah took the little basket in her fingers. “Is this the one I made for you?”
    “No. That’s why I wanted to show you. I found it in the dolls’ house at Pembrooke Park. Did you give one to the girl who used to live there?”
    Leah’s brow furrowed as she looked from her sister to the basket, but before she could reply, their father came in from the next room, frowning.
    “What were you doing in Pembrooke Park?” he asked.
    Kitty said, “Miss Foster gave William and me a tour. I’ll give the basket back—I just wanted to show it to Leah.”
    Leah said, “I’m sure Kitty meant no harm, Papa. But of course she must return it when she next calls.”
    “I don’t want her going back there.”
    “Please don’t be angry, Papa. I wanted to see inside. William did too.”
    “I have told you all that I don’t want you going over there. I—”
    “I don’t see why not,” Kitty protested. “Miss Foster is living there now, and she is perfectly amiable. William must think so too. For he invited her to have dinner with us tonight.”
    William felt his ears redden at