Yes; surely a parson can be trusted.

Anne sighs. "Mr. Brightson, may I...may I indulge in sharing some girlish worries with you?"

"Of course, my dear. I'm here for any parishioner's troubles, after all!"

Anne smiles gratefully. "Mr. Brightson, I...I feel a great pressure on me as the eldest daughter in my family. Not only do I feel the need to set a good example for my sisters and conduct myself well - of course - but as you know, I am expected to be the first to be married. And though I very much look forward to the day that happens, I..." She swallows. "Well, I fear that it will happen too slowly, or too late."

"What do you mean by that?" Mr. Brightson asks, looking puzzled.

Anne chuckles. "I gather, Mr. Brightson, that you don't have any sisters?"

"No, as a matter of fact. Why?"

Anne sighs and blinks away sudden, slightly surprising tears. "Because if you did, Mr. Brightson, you would know what any decent girl lives in fear of. That if she is too slow to be married, she will end up a spinster - and, once a spinster, the only way to go is eventually into bondage. For only if a girl is off the marriage market can any of her younger sisters be wed. And dowries are not, of course, untouchable things...so if an elder sister is too long in the process of being married, her sisters' dowries may have to be spent on some unavoidable emergency, and then they might end up in bondage...it is a fate I greatly fear, Mr. Brightson," she says, ending in a subdued whisper.

The parson nods gravely, looking pale. "I see. I...had not thought about the toll that would take on a young woman's mind," he says softly.

Anne nods. "I am, to be honest, quite weary of it," she whispers. "I wish I could just be married already! But I...I'm not a very good prospect for a wife. My family is not wealthy enough to attract the best suitors, but too wealthy for most people in town...and I do not have some of my sisters' ease with...with being winsome and appealing." She glances forlornly out the window at Rebecca and Mr. Twilwell, who are chuckling over some joke. Mr. Brightson follows her gaze, then gently takes her hand with a little smile.

"Do look at me, Miss Foxhaven," he says gently. When Anne turns back to him, he presses her hand firmly and speaks seriously: "There are many virtues wanted in a wife - as many as there are men on God's green earth, I should think. You need not fear that you are not...not appealing enough for a husband, for some decent man, I'm sure of it, will make you very happy, very soon."

"Oh, perhaps. I'm not much fun, though," Anne says sadly.

"Fun? Some men like that in a girl." Mr. Brightson smiles and gently lifts her chin. "Other men, though, prefer the kind of _women _who are conscious of their place in the world; who worry about whether they're doing right by their family; who care. And you, it is clear, care, Anne." He presses her hand again and lets her go. "You're clearly a wonderful girl, and I admire very much your consciousness and your dedication to your family. Don't worry! And I promise that I will do everything I can to help, little though it may be."

"Oh...thank you, sir," Anne says, blushing slightly. Brightson shrugs.

"Well, thank me not yet! I haven't done anything. Still, I can ask around...inquire about eligible bachelors...sing your praises to the mothers who have me over for Friday suppers. Being a parson has its advantages in the social world, you know." He chuckles. "Now, why don't you go join your sister?"

"I will, sir. Thank you so much." Anne smiles at him, and he returns her smile warmly. "Have a wonderful afternoon, Mr. Brightson."

"You as well, Miss Foxhaven," Brightson says cheerily as Anne hurries out the door, novel in hand.

Brightson watches her go with a contented smile for a moment, then hears a quiet cough. Turning, he glances quizzically at the shopkeeper.

"Er...she is a very nice girl{if Anne<76}, though I've heard she's lately become a bit more complex a woman{elseif Alice<76}, though some of her sisters are a bit wild{endif}. But that novel costs a crown..." the shopkeeper says.

"Oh, here. I'll pay for it," Brightson says with a chuckle, rummaging for some coins.

"There you are!" Rebecca exclaims as Anne hurries out of the bookshop. Mr. Twilwell, she sees, is already down the block, turning a corner. "What on earth were you doing in there? Was that new parson talking your ear off? I feel as though I caught your eye a dozen times, at least!""I'm sorry," Anne says. "We were talking, though it wasn't his fault - I wanted to speak with him. He seems a lovely man, Rebecca."

"Well, that's as may be, but Mr. Twilwell's income makes him a lovelier one, at least in the eyes of most of the world," Rebecca says tartly. "And I was talking you up as much as I could out here! The least you could have done was appear in person to validate all my praise." She tosses her head slightly. "I do think he liked me, though."

"Oh yes?" Anne asks with a little laugh.

"Indeed. He said I had a 'charming wit!' Now that's praise!" Rebecca chuckles. Then she looks more grave. "But seriously, Anne, it's you we're meant to be matching him with. You need to put in a little effort, you know?"

"I know, I know. It just...always seems so difficult," Anne says with a sigh.

"Well, you'll get another chance soon, at least," Rebecca informs her. She links her arm with Anne's and begins to lead her down the lane, toward home. "Mr. Twilwell just informed me that he has some family coming to visit, and he'd like to invite our family to dine with them Friday next. There's an invitation in the post already, I am told!"

"Oh!" Anne's heart begins to beat faster. "Well, that's...that's most exciting! I'm sure it will be lovely."

"Indeed. And I'm sure that you'll be lovely as well. For I will see to that," Rebecca says with a grin.