She drew back, searched his gaze. “If you love me, then—?”
“There is more you must know. Much that has changed. Hear me. While you had a mistaken belief that you may have inadvertently caused the death of your two suitors, I have mistakenly accepted the profession that was decreed for me from my youth. I do believe in God and all His good works. I do think guiding principles are necessary to live with grace and dignity, and I do believe all people need those principles pronounced on Sundays and every day. But I doubt I am the man to do it. I doubt I am a man who does it well. And I do doubt I should continue to try.”
He led her to sit down in the pew and he followed to sit beside her.
She was shocked, searching his eyes for clues to his ultimate meaning, for surely he had more to say of this new approach to his profession.
“During the past year, I have run my father’s estate. I divided my time between that and my duties here. I continued my articles for the Review and have gained some recognition for the ideas I’ve expressed there.”
“The fame of Reverend Peoples spreads. The Vicomtesse knows of you.”
“Yes, after I told her of your relationship and mine, she and I spoke of much. I told her about my duties here and confessed much of my dismay about my role as vicar. She is a kind and loving person. You are fortunate to have her as a friend.”
“And as my almost-employer!”
“That, too!” He became wistful. “She, like so many, knows of the problems in the Church. How clergy are not necessarily called to their duties, but take them on because of their own need.”
“Poorly paid, too,” she said and grasped his hands in hers, “and overworked with more parishes than a man can adequately care for, a clergyman gives of himself and ofttimes his family to the point of ill health and despair.”
“And what can a man do for his flock if he himself fears for the future?” He gripped her hands tightly. “I love my work, my parishioners, but I agonize more about my inability to change their lives. Now, working for my father and our tenants, I see how a new plow can put more food on a family’s table. I see what a trench or a ha-ha can do to reclaim a field from floods and save a barn and a cow. I know that a higher yield of grain can put money in a man’s pocket and buy him strawberries from the market and a new bonnet for his wife. I have preached about the salvation of a man’s or woman’s soul when they die, but I rejoice at the smile on their faces when they have enough to eat and clothes to keep them warm. Rather than preach about the glories of heaven, I would rather work now for heaven on earth.”
“You will leave the Church?”
“I will. Can you see me as an ordinary man?”
“Charles Compton, to me you have ever been extraordinary. I love you as you are, whatever you wish to do.”
“As a man who stands for Parliament?”
That stunned her. “A perfect fit.”
“My father thinks so, too. I would stand for his borough.”
“Fitting that you should,” she said. “A perfect role for a man who wishes to change the lives of those who truly make this country great.”
“Men and women. There is much that needs improving for the fairer sex.”
“And don’t I know that, first hand.”
His green eyes danced merrily. “If I am elected, it’s work. For you, too.”
“A challenge that will bring meaning to every day.”
“A sweetness if I have you beside me,” he said. “I want you, Willa Sheffield. I want to give you happy days and thrilling nights. A home full of acceptance, forgiveness and joy. A place where love rules every hour.”
A finer man she had never known. That was not a proposal but close to it. She grinned, tossed her hair over her shoulders and set to her original purpose here. “Am I to take it then that you might consider marrying me?”
“Why would you want to marry me, dear lady? I am a man who is about to leave his profession. One who may not succeed at another. I have little to offer you in the way of any guarantee.”
“But you could offer yourself. A future you will make for yourself. Built on principles and ethics. Built on love of humankind and the fruits of the earth. A man who is kind and purposeful, funny and dear. Oh, Charlie, I would say that man is the perfect one for me. Will you have me?”
He wrapped her close. “Have you? Keep you. Love you. Always, my willful woman. But be certain of one thing.”
“What is that?”
He trailed his fingertips through her hair. “I will never let you leave me again.”
She swallowed her tears of joy. “Well then. I hope you can acquire a special license, dear sir. I am an earl’s daughter, you see, and I do not wish to create a scandal.”
He hooted at that. “You mean, another one?”
She bobbed her head. “We do want to ensure you win your elections without any tarnish within the family.”
He widened his eyes. “Good point.” He stood and pulled her to the aisle.
“Wait! Where are we going?”
He winked at her. “My house. I’ve a thing or two to show you.”
She pulled her chin into her chest. “That sounds…risqué.”
“It is.” He took another step down the aisle. “Come along.”
“I cannot do this!”
“You don’t wish to?”
“Well, of course, I do, but—”
He cupped her cheeks with his warm hands and laughed. “Come with me, sweetheart. I’m teasing you. In my cottage in my desk, I have a paper you will love to see. The special license I’ve had since April third.”
She halted. “You had one when you came to De Courcy Manor?”
He grinned. “I wanted you and I meant to have you.”
Joy rained down on her like a spring shower. New, replete, she reached up and put her lips to his. His response was a ravishing possession. She broke away, breathless. “And so you’ll marry me?”
“If I could get a man to my house in the next hour, it would not be too soon.”
She grinned and cast him a coy lady’s glance. “Can you?”
“No.”
“Oh.” She frowned, disappointed.
“But what do you say to tomorrow?”
She looped her arms around his neck and pecked him on the cheek. “Early.”
He grew still and serious. “At De Courcy Manor?”
She bit her lower lip and toyed with the button on his waistcoat. “No. My father owes me much in honor and much to you in respect.” She stared up into his sad eyes. “That reconciliation, if it ever occurs, must begin with him. What would you say if we married at your father’s house?”
“My very suggestion.”
“He’d be pleased with me?”
“Thrilled. He is of a mind that since I love you, he will too.”
She felt light, free, ready to fly like petals on the wind. “I am repentant, too.”
He snorted. “Is that so? Well then! I say come up to the Hall, my dear. Try that word out on Lord and Lady Courtland.”
She grumbled, playful. “You are a harsh taskmaster, Vicar.”
“Redemption is a noble act.” He brushed his fingers along her lips. “Naughty or nice, I love you, Wicked Willa.”
Chapter 14
Friday, May 10, 1816
Wyndym Abbey
Dorset
A glance in the long mirror in her dressing room assured Wills that today, of all days, she was radiant. And it was true, she was the happiest she’d ever been in her life. The rose silk day gown gave her skin a pink glow. It was one of her favorites, but she had left it at Courtland Manor hidden in the back dressing room when she ran away after the frolic. Two days ago before she and Charlie had come here, she’d reclaimed it along with her pride that she’d stood up for herself. Her reward for that was to be her wedding this morning to her charming Charlie. The pink of the gown matched the flush of her cheeks because she could not stop thinking about what awaited her within hours. To fly away from t
he Duke of Southbourne’s mansion and go off alone with her new husband to the family wedding cottage in the copse a mile away, was the only thing she wanted now.
“You look lovely, my lady.” The sweet young maid whom the duke had assigned her upon their arrival stood back. She was all of fourteen or fifteen and aflutter with delight to wait upon her.
“Thank you, Lizzie. You’ve a talent for taming wild hair.”
“Oh, milady.” She blushed. “You’ve silk. It’s a crown, it is.”
“I’ll commend you to your master, Lizzie. I hope you will attend the wedding.”
“Aye, ma’am. The duke has invited all of us.”
“That’s good of him.”
“Right smart, too. We know we’ve a fine master.” She bit her lip as if she’d meant to say more but decided against it.
If she had more to say, there was precious little to impart that was negative. Wills had learned two nights ago at dinner the most likely bit of derision was the topic of the oldest son of the duke.
During their trip to Southbourne, Charlie had shared much about the problems his father and he had with Charlie’s older brother Oliver. Among them was the fact that Oliver treated servants poorly. After she and Charlie had arrived, the duke declared he was happy Oliver was not here. Yet, he warned, he might still appear. The duke had sent word that afternoon to his oldest child in London of Charlie’s marriage today, so he expected him to come quickly. The fact that the bishop could not arrive to perform the ceremony until today added to the tension that Oliver might arrive and make a scene.
“Here or not for the occasion,” the duke added during dinner, “Oliver will take the hint and wed with haste now. He guards zealously that which is his. Would that he could take care of it with the same dedication. But that is not to be. I hope you do not take it amiss that I am so frank with you, Willa. But you join the family and are to learn all this sooner or later.”
“My own family has aspects which are not perfect, Your Grace.” She knew not how well the duke was personally acquainted with her father, but she did not hide the fact of her estrangement from him.
“We have our foibles,” he said as he took a sip of his wine. “To keep the estates and the wealth of our lands can make us unseemly in our efforts. This is most often a problem when we look for spouses.”
“That I do know, sir.”
The duke and she had engaged in a spirited discussion of women’s rights. He had quickly assured her she would be her own person in the Compton family with command over her own property and her dowry. “And if your father does not approve of this marriage and refuses you your due, you will never be without your own money and rights, my dear.”
Assured of her welcome and secure in her own integrity, she smiled again at herself on her wedding day. Ready to begin a new chapter of her life, she swept her train aside. “I’m ready, Lizzie. Let’s go down.”
* * *
His father crooked a finger at him. “Come here, my son. You do look splendid.”
Charlie tugged at the points of his dark blue and emerald brocade waistcoat. Not quite the fashion any longer, the six-year-old garment had hung in his dressing room here untouched for many years. “A bit tight.”
“Broader of shoulder, stouter of heart and, if it is possible, more humble of mind, you’ve grown in all ways. But you were always noble of character.” His father, in his wheeled chair, took from his pocket a small hammered silver box. “Here. My wedding gift to you. Bend down.”
Charlie leaned over, watching as his father flipped open the silver case. A bejeweled stick pin sat in white satin. The long gold pin held the small diamonds and two large sapphires in an abbreviated circle that resembled the family crest. “Sir! That is—”
“Yours, my dear boy. Come, come. Allow me to fix your cravat. Mathews is skilled with the folds but I reserve the honor to place this in the silk. This was my father’s. His father’s before him. Beyond that, who knows how old it is. But it is yours, by right of honor.”
He spoke around the lump in his throat. “This should belong to Oliver.”
“No. It should not.” He patted Charlie’s shoulder and waggled his fingers for him to stand and let him inspect him. “Your frockcoat now. Ahh. Yes, there you are. The groom! So now for your excellent choice of this lovely young woman to join us, I also present you with this.”
From his inside pocket, the duke took a long parchment, folded in two. “Always have you made me proud, Charles. Always may you have pleasure in your life. God knows, you have given it to your mother and to me. Enjoy this.”
Charlie knew a hand-written deed when he saw one. He unfolded it and read the words that he would add this possession to his list of morning blessings. This was an assignment of the house in Hanover Square to him. Tears stung his eyelids. The property, long a free-hold by the Comptons, could be sold or given away. Charlie loved the old place with its massive rooms, high ceilings, enormous old kitchen and fond memories of his childhood. His father had afforded him use of the house this past year for his times in London on family estate business. This was a formal transfer of the title.
“Sir, this is a very generous gift. I am very grateful. But we have spent the past year devoted to re-building a sound estate.” They had worked diligently to secure Southbourne’s financial status and this was a valuable property. “If you give this to me, we diminish that.”
His father brushed his objection aside. “Immaterial to the benefits you have restored to me and to the estate. You have done much for me, for us, Charlie. Not the least of which is restore my faith in good works and the future. And to be blunt, as for this house, I never put it to let, always questioning if you truly wanted a life in the clergy.”
“You never told me that.”
“I realized when you were a young chap that you accepted the idea of the Church, and I wondered if that were your obedience to me and your mother prevailing. When you joined the Army, albeit as a chaplain, I had more reason to question our role. I saw your reticence about your profession, your frustrations and your need to accomplish good on earth. Forgive me, but I sat back to watch you make your own choices. I was always proud of them. Proud of you. Now as you leave the clergy to work for the betterment of us all, I see you are truly happy. Called to this service.”
Humbled by his father’s words, he nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
The Duke indicated the deed. “Now you need a London residence, but for a purpose that frankly delights me more. With a new wife comes the need for a suitable home to grow into. This one will do very well. With it comes a monthly stipend and additional means to pay the four servants. I want you happy, Charles. Very happy.”
“I am honored, sir. You make my new life so easy to embrace.”
“Shall we go down then to the drawing room and allow you to officially embrace your bride?”
* * *
She stared out the window watching the bishop climb down from his barouche.
Sadness eroded her euphoria. Never had she thought she would marry without the presence of her parents. She had loved them without censure and naively expected the same from them. Perhaps in time, they might see their way clear. Especially her mother. Out of courtesy, Wills had written to them upon her arrival here to notify them of her wedding today. At the duke’s kind leave, she had invited both of them. But if they would not relent, she would go on without them.
She whirled away from the window to see Charlie standing on the threshold to the drawing room. He was the very essence of a noble gentleman in his dashing wedding finery, superfine wool frockcoat, elaborately tied cravat and bejeweled stick pin. His brilliant green gaze met hers and in silent communion, consoled her. Then at once he was across the room with her in his arms.
“My darling,” he said as he lifted her chin to his sweet regard. “Do you wish us to do this today? Here? The letter you sent two days ago should have arrived yesterday. We can wait as we might still we have a response from your mother and father.”<
br />
She settled her arms about his waist and admired the caring man who was soon to be her husband. “No. They may take their time to come to terms with our marriage or not. I will not allow them to interfere in my life. They had that chance and did not use it well. It is you I love. You, I want. You, I will marry today.”
His eyes sparkled with tears. “You, I will have to cherish today and every day henceforth. I promise to be your rock, your foundation, your respectful helpmate all the days of my life. I love you, Willa. I always will.”
“I know. Never have I met anyone whom I can trust more. And I promise to be your friend, your comfort, your hope and your joy for the rest of my life.”
“My wife,” he whispered. “I adore you.” And then he kissed her with all the delicacy of a groom and the passion of a lover.
“Ahem.” A gruff sound came from the doorway.
Laughing, Charlie hugged her. “The bishop is here. And I am eager to have our vows done and leave for the cottage.”
“Let’s say those words quickly, sir. I want to see if this honeymoon cottage is all you have promised.” With a wink at her soon-to-be husband, she turned to greet the bishop.
The man was welcoming and gleeful to see Charlie married. He had brought his book. but claimed he needed it not. As the servants bustled about and assembled in rows befitting their stations, the duke came in his wheeled chair and greeted the clergyman. “Happy occasion, this is, sir.”
“Indeed, Your Grace.”
A commotion began in the lower hall. Someone—a man—was yelling for a footman and stomping about in the foyer.
In alarm, Wills looked up at Charlie.
At once his expression fell, then turned to anger. He squeezed her hand. “My brother. Pardon me, my darling. I will go.” He met the gaze of his father and nodded. Then, with a hand raised to the butler or any of the footmen who stepped toward the door, he stayed them. “I will do this.”
Lady Willa’s Divinely Wicked Vicar: Four Weddings and a Frolic, Book 4 Page 14
