The Heart of a Vicar

by Sarah M. Eden

  She took in a deep breath and pushed it out through tight lips. “What exactly do I need to do?”

  No one would ever accuse Sarah of lacking courage. “We’ll make sure the harness is good and tight. Then you will climb out of the window backward. You’ll hold the rope right here at this knot.” He indicated the one that connected the rope to the harness. “Philip, Layton, and Corbin are beneath you, all holding the rope. They will lower you slowly.”

  “I’m to be Don Quixote descending into Montesinos’s Cave?”

  “More or less.” He slipped the harness off his shoulder.

  She looked out the window. “How will you get down?”

  “They’ll hold the rope still for me, and I’ll use it to climb down. I descend a section of the abbey wall that way all the time.”

  “And you haven’t died yet.” She nodded as if slowly growing more convinced.

  “Not yet. And I don’t intend for that to change tonight.”

  “Neither do I.” She indicated the harness. “Let’s see how well this works.”

  He explained to her where the various loops went, and she pulled it on. Harold helped her tighten it, careful to keep his gaze away from the havoc it would wreak on her dress or the trousers that would be peeking out beneath them. Outside was dark enough; little would be visible.

  Sarah sat on the windowsill. “Is there a particular way to navigate this part?”

  He held his hands out. “Grab hold of my wrists, and I will hold yours while you lower your legs out. Once you’re in position, take hold of the rope.”

  “You have surprisingly large arms,” she said. “Strong, I mean.”

  His arms were unusually large. No shirts ever fit comfortably. “I climb walls. That builds a great deal of strength. No one ever sees it though.”

  “We see your strength, Harold. We just don’t tell you often enough.”

  This was quite the night for compliments. He didn’t at all know how to respond to them all. “Are you ready?”

  She set her shaky hands over his, grabbing his wrists. He held tightly to her wrists. With careful movements, she turned enough to lower her legs out the window. Harold tightened his grip even more. Heavens, if she fell—He wouldn’t let himself finish the thought.

  The rope was tight on the other side. His brothers were holding firm below.

  “Grab the knot,” he told her.

  “I won’t fall?”

  “You won’t fall.”

  She let go of him, but he kept hold of her wrists until her hands were wrapped around the knot.

  “I’ll see you down below,” he told her.

  She nodded.

  “Go,” he called down to his brothers.

  Sarah pushed away from the wall with her feet, just as he’d instructed her, and slid down. Bit by bit, she descended lower and lower. Harold held his breath, watching and praying. At last, she was on the ground. Layton was at her side on the instant, helping her slip free of the harness.

  She was safe, and she would soon be free of her uncle’s tyranny. His brothers would likely not tell anyone how it had been managed. No one in Collingham would learn the truth about the Climbing Curate.

  He would not yet be required to discover if the role of vicar was truly flexible enough to include someone like him. That would come soon enough.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sarah was not a crier. Still, she wept when Mater greeted her at the door of the dower house with a fierce and protective embrace. Every drop of loneliness, every fruitless longing for a sense of belonging these past weeks, every disappointed hope of the previous years simply poured from her in the form of soul-deep tears.

  “You consider this your home now, Sarah,” she said. “For however long you wish it to be. And consider us part of your family.”

  That made her cry even more. In her uncle’s house, she had been anything but family, and it had never felt like a home. Mater’s kindness and caring was opening wounds she’d spent so many years hiding from the world.

  Sarah looked back at Harold. “Thank you for this.” His brothers stood not too far distant. “And thank the others as well.”

  “They are the Jonquil Freers of Prisoners,” Mater said. “They leave no one behind.”

  Harold’s eyes widened in surprise.

  Mater laughed. “Did you boys really think your father and I weren’t aware of your mischief? There’s a reason we had that trellis installed so near the nursery window and had it anchored far more solidly than any simple trellis ever was. We wanted to be certain our precious ‘Monkey’ did not fall to his death for want of something to hold fast to.”

  A lopsided smile tugged at Harold’s lips. He stepped up to them and pressed a kiss to his mother’s cheek. His gaze shifted to Sarah. “You’ll look after her as well, won’t you?” He motioned with his head to Mater.

  “If, when you say ‘look after’ you mean ‘get into mischief with,’ then yes. Yes, I will.”

  Harold took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. He lightly kissed her fingers, lingering over the tender gesture. A thickness started in Sarah’s throat, her heart pounding against it. He had held her hand before; he’d even kissed her fingers. But it was different this time. His touch tugged at her from a place deeper in her heart.

  “We’ve been apart a long time, Sarah,” he said quietly.

  “You were away for almost a month,” she acknowledged.

  He shook his head. “I’ve been away for years.”

  “I wish you would come back,” she whispered.

  “And I think you should be on your way, Harold,” Mater said. “Sarah needs to settle in and sleep.”

  He offered a small bow, then turned and walked to where his brothers stood. They, as a group, offered waves and farewells to Mater before traipsing down the lane leading away from the dower house.

  “Quite a group of remarkable gentlemen, though I say it myself.” No one could miss the affection in Mater’s voice. “Their father would be proud of them.”

  “I still cannot believe all the trouble they went to on my behalf,” Sarah said. “And to manage it without implicating the servants so that they would be safe as well. I’m amazed to the point of near speechlessness.”

  “They are Jonquils, my dear. Jonquils save people.”

  Sarah leaned into Mater’s one-armed hug. “Do you think Harold really is coming back to us—the real Harold, not the whole-cloth version of him he’s been presenting to the world?”

  “I see more of him peeking through all the time.”

  “I do hope so.”

  They stepped inside the dower house, moving slowly toward the stairs.

  “I still cannot get past the sight of him scaling that wall.”

  Mater nodded knowingly. “His brothers called him Monkey. I always thought he was more like a spider. His climbing scared the life out of me, but I couldn’t deny he was remarkably good at it.”

  Sarah’s heart flipped. “It was very impressive, I will admit.”

  With mischief in her eyes, Mater said, “You found him rather dashing, did you?”

  Heat spread over Sarah’s face.

  “His father was a climber as well. Not walls, as Harold does, but mountains. I saw him undertake a dangerous climb early in our marriage. It was both terrifying and . . .” Her voice trailed off, even as a slow smile spread across her face. A deep sigh slid from her. “Lucas was remarkable in so many ways.”

  “I loved him,” Sarah said.

  “Everyone loved him,” Mater said quietly.

  They walked up the stairs to a serenely appointed bedchamber, complete with a washbasin of warm water, a vase of freshly cut hot-house flowers, and a burning fire. A maid waited inside.

  “This is Hannah; she will be acting as your lady’s maid.”

  Sarah sai
d little the remainder of the night beyond expressions of gratitude for Hannah’s kind ministrations and apologies to everyone who made such effort on her behalf. She felt torn between feelings of relief and guilt.

  She awoke the next morning feeling both as though she’d slept for ages and hadn’t slept at all. She was tired to her bones but determined to make this new start a good one.

  As it was Sunday, she had a difficult dilemma to sort. Uncle had not permitted her to leave her room to attend services the past two weeks. She wished to go to mass that morning, but he would most certainly be there. Her uncle might not even know yet that she was gone. The longer her escape remained undiscovered the less likely he was to assign blame to anyone in particular. For him to discover in church that she had defied his orders might very well end in disaster.

  She hadn’t the least fear that he was capable of forcing her return to Sarvol House. One did best to never underestimate the Jonquil family when they were united in support of a common cause. She knew she was free of her uncle’s household, but she also knew with clarity he would see her escape as an affront and would respond with anger. She would be humiliated. Scott would be as well. She wouldn’t put it past Uncle Sarvol to lash out at the servants while the entire congregation looked on.

  What was she to do? She could avoid services, but she so wanted to attend. She found such peace in the chapel. And she wished to see Harold undertake his duties after his journey, to see if he had changed and how.

  “Oh, Miss Sarvol.” Hannah stood in the doorway. “I’d meant only to peek in and see that your fire was still burning. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  She shook her head. “You did not.”

  Hannah came the rest of the way into the room. “Have you looked outside yet? What a snowing we had last night. Must’ve come in right late, long after you arrived.”

  Sarah slipped from her bed. The floor was frigid against her bare feet. Without the influence of the fire, the air would have been almost unbearably cold. She crossed to her generously proportioned window and looked out on a blanket of pristine, glistening snow. Everything was covered. Every tree branch, every shrub, every wall. And the snow lay so deep not a single blade of grass could be seen.

  “Quite a snowing, indeed.” She turned back to Hannah. “It looks very deep.”

  Hannah nodded, pulling open the armoire. “So deep, in fact, the vicar has sent word around the parish that there’ll be no services today. He doesn’t wish anyone not having a carriage or horse to have to walk in all this snow. Good man, our vicar.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  Bless, Harold. He’d saved the local people from a miserable walk in the snow. He’d saved her from having to face her uncle. He’d always said he wanted nothing more than to help people. He was managing precisely that.

  “I pressed your gown, Miss Sarvol.” She pulled out the dress Sarah had worn when she’d left Sarvol House. She’d come with nothing else. Even her night dress was borrowed from Mater. She hadn’t the first idea what she would wear while they waited for Scott to devise a means of sneaking a few of her things from her still-locked bedchamber.

  Mater sat at the table in the small dining room when Sarah arrived downstairs nearly thirty minutes later. She looked up from her tea and book. A smile bloomed on her dear face. “Good morning, Sarah. You look lovely.”

  Sarah felt more beautiful than she had in all the months she’d been away from America. It was miraculous what having a lady’s maid could do. No longer was Sarah fumbling to fashion her hair in some way or another when she had no practice creating a flattering coiffeur. And she was no longer rushed through the effort to dress so the maid helping her could return to her actual duties. The fashions of the day did not lend themselves to hastiness.

  “Thank you for Hannah,” Sarah said. “She is such a welcome help, and so kind.”

  Mater nodded. “I knew you would like her. And I suspect she already adores you. She’s kind to her very soul, and her taste is impeccable.”

  Before Sarah could take a seat at the table, Charlie wandered inside. “Morning, Mater. Sarah.” He stopped abruptly. “Am I allowed to call you that? I know it was permitted when we were little, but—”

  Mater looked to Sarah. “That is really for you to decide, dear.”

  “I do not mind.” Indeed, she did not. The Jonquil brothers felt like her brothers in a very real way.

  “Perhaps you can be Sarah when it is just the family,” Mater suggested, “and Miss Sarvol when amongst others. Some people are very particular about observing the niceties.”

  Sarah agreed. Charlie looked instantly more at ease.

  “Since Harold has decided to shutter the church and pretend it is not Sunday,” Charlie said, “I’ve been sent to invite the ladies of the dower house to spend the day with the gathered Jonquils at the Park.”

  “‘Shutter the church and pretend it’s not Sunday’? Did Philip charge you with using that exact phrase?” Mater seemed to already know the answer.

  Charlie tipped an eyebrow upward. All the brothers employed that exact expression now and then and in nearly identical ways. Harold’s version of the “Jonquil eyebrow” had too often tended toward censure these past months. She hoped it would begin to look more mischievous like the others’.

  “Very well.” Mater held her hands up in a show of surrender. “I will not require you to tell tales on your brother.” She looked to Sarah. “Would you care to toss yourself in amongst this madcap family?”

  “More than anything.”

  “I suspect she’s as mad as the rest of us,” Charlie said. “Agreeing to be lowered down the side of a house simply because Harold told her it was safe. Mad as a hatter.”

  “Perfect. She’ll fit right in.” Mater rose. “I mean to fetch a few things, then we can be off.” She paused to give Sarah’s shoulders a squeeze. “It is so good to have you here.”

  Sarah inwardly smiled as Mater left the room. “I’ve been here twelve hours, most of that spent sleeping, yet she is convinced my presence here is a blessing from heaven itself.”

  Charlie, to her surprised, looked saddened by the declaration. “She’s lonely. We all see it, but we don’t know what to do. Most of my brothers have families of their own now. Harold has his parish duties. I need to get back to school. She’s alone, and we can’t fix that.”

  Sarah crossed to him, this dear young gentleman who had been like a little brother and cousin to her all the years she was growing up. “She is not alone now. I will stay as long as she wishes me to.”

  Charlie didn’t appear reassured. “The last lady who joined her here and who was meant to alleviate some of that loneliness was married within six months.”

  Sarah grinned, slipping her arm through his and walking with him out of the dining room. “I do not suspect I’m in much danger of following in her footsteps.”

  Charlie snorted.

  “Do you know something I don’t?”

  His mouth twisted in wry amusement. “Apparently.”

  They moved to the entryway. Charlie clearly meant to offer no more explanation than that. Either they would stand there in silence, or Sarah could choose a different topic.

  “When do you return to Cambridge?”

  “Next month for Lent Term. And I’ve been invited to spend the time between Lent Term and Easter Term with Mr. Lancaster and his family.”

  Sarah held back the observation that Mater would be rendered even lonelier if her youngest didn’t return home during school breaks. She did not wish Charlie to feel guilty for spending time with a friend.

  “I do not know the Lancasters, but I believe he is the gentleman you were with when you had your accident.”

  Charlie grinned. “Testament to my forgiving nature that I’m voluntarily returning, isn’t it?”

  “You’re a saint,” Sarah said.

  With a l
augh, he said, “Mr. Lancaster’s sister would vehemently disagree with that declaration.”

  Sarah had heard something about Charlie not getting along with a member of the Lancaster family. “Does she dislike you as much as I’ve heard she does?”

  “It is a mutual dislike.”

  She was intrigued. “I have never known you to truly dislike anyone. Well, perhaps George Finley, but everyone dislikes him.”

  “Except George Finley,” Charlie added.

  Sarah could not deny the truth of that. “Why, then, has young Miss Lancaster earned your very rare disapproval?”

  He shrugged, no longer looking at her. “I don’t know. She’s—Being around her is like watching a play. She’s acting a part all the time. It irritates me, but I don’t know why I even care. We’re not friends. We’re not family. Whether or not she glides about Society pretending to be something she isn’t shouldn’t matter to me in the least.” He shook his head. “But it does, and that bothers me.”

  Now, that was decidedly interesting.

  Mater returned, ending any further prodding Sarah might have undertaken. The front walk of the dower house had been cleared of snow, but it was at least six inches deep on either side. Not unpassable, by any means, but certainly a miserable depth for someone to walk through all the way to church. Those with access to carriages would have managed the journey none the worse for wear, but the less fortunate would have endured a dreadful trudge. And that many cold, wet feet would likely spark an epidemic of illness. Harold was wise to have cancelled services.

  Sarah, Mater, and Charlie were handed up into the Lampton carriage and whisked off to the main house. The path between the two buildings must have been cleared of snow as well; the horses didn’t seem to struggle at all to make the journey. Mater spoke again and again of how delighted she was at the prospect of spending the entire day with her family. Sarah made note of that. She would make certain Mater was afforded that opportunity as often as possible.

  The drawing room was full to bursting when they stepped inside. Mater moved directly to her extended family, receiving embraces and kisses on the cheek.