A Country Gentleman

by Ann Barker

  He began by laughing at her error, but once he had grasped what she intended to do by way of retaliation, he soon lost all desire to laugh. What was the foolish girl about with this vicar? What was more, how had she come by such a misunderstanding over Miss Egan in the first place?

  Where exactly was Isobel now? He had kept all her letters. They were in his desk downstairs. Once dressed and ready for the day, he would go down and remind himself of where she was staying. Then perhaps he might go and see what she was up to. If nothing else, it certainly behoved him to rescue this poor vicar. A worse parson’s wife he could not imagine!

  When eventually Lord Riseholm opened his desk, his appearance had undergone a transformation. He was now dressed in dove grey pantaloons with a white waistcoat and a black coat with silver buttons, and his hair, neatly brushed, hung loose over his shoulders.

  He took out Isobel’s letters, wandered over to the window, and sat down so that he could examine them properly. Ah yes, he remembered now. She was staying with Thurlby. This parson fellow must be Thurlby’s chaplain, he supposed. No doubt he had become dazzled by the chit’s remarkable beauty, but propose? Never! And even if he had, Isobel would no more wed a parson than she would take the veil. She had obviously decided that what was sauce for the gander was sauce for the goose.

  He got up and walked back to his desk, where he sat down, took out a fresh sheet of paper, and mended his pen.

  My dear, foolish, Innocentia

  How very naïve of you to believe every rumour you hear.

  But then, your naïveté has always been one of your charms.

  He stared at the sentences that he had written, gently tapping his lips with the feather of the quill before screwing up the paper and throwing it into the fireplace. No, that would never do. It would be much more delicious to tantalize her with the notion that he really was engaged. Smiling, he took up his pen again.

  My dear, perceptive Innocentia

  How very kind of you to offer your congratulations. Miss Egan, you will be pleased to hear, is in great beauty. (That, at least was true; he had caught sight of her at a ball before her wary chaperon had hustled her away.) Would you like me to bring her so that we can dance at your wedding? Tell me, I have always wondered who officiates at a parson’s wedding? Will the bishop honour you, or does your parson have to ask the questions, then leap the altar rail in order to make the responses?

  He leaned back in his chair and chuckled to himself. That was much better! He would tell her the truth eventually, of course. For now, let her think that she had hit the nail on the head. He would let her stew for a little while, but he would not leave it very long before following his letter into Lincolnshire. He would like to see for himself what she was getting up to. Did she really mean to marry this parson? It would be worth discovering whether the fellow was actually worthy of her.

  Now that was a novel thought. Where had it come from? He pondered for a moment or two, then gave himself a mental shake, took up his pen once more and got on with his letter.

  His correspondence completed, franked, and taken for delivery by a footman, he decided to walk to his club and, by the strangest fortune, he found himself reaching out for a newspaper at the same time as Lord Smilie. He barely knew the man, but on impulse mentioned his nephew who had a hunting box in Lincolnshire. ‘I understand you also have a nephew who lives in that county,’ he said.

  ‘Indeed I do,’ Smilie answered, a little puzzled at being addressed by a man who would not normally pay him any attention at all. ‘He is a clergyman.’

  ‘Really?’ replied Riseholm. ‘Is he your only nephew?’

  ‘And my only heir,’ Smilie agreed. ‘However, he’s now engaged.’

  ‘My congratulations.’

  ‘Mind you, I think he could have done better, but there’s no reasoning with a man in love.’

  ‘The devil he could,’ said Riseholm, before walking away, leaving the other man completely nonplussed.

  The vicar might be in love, but Isobel certainly wasn’t, Riseholm decided, as he walked home. Damn the wench! She was creating havoc with his social life, and with his mental state. There was nothing for it but for him to go to Lincolnshire to put a halt to whatever folly she had stirred up. Then perhaps he might have some peace.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Although Caroline had grumbled at having to preside over her class sitting down, there was no doubt that it had helped her foot to heal, and within a few days, she was walking quite well, provided that she did not overdo things.

  For her part, Lavinia found that she was very much enjoying the chance to teach in the school. The children were generally polite and responsive, and she discovered in herself a gift for teaching reading, as well as an enjoyment in the task, which encouraged and surprised her.

  Mr Ames had his own church duties to perform, but he had always made a point of coming into the school once a week to help the children learn their catechism. Now, he came more frequently and took the children for scripture classes as well. Lavinia was fascinated by the way that he often told the Bible stories in his own words rather than always reading them, and made them lively and interesting for the children. She was also impressed by the way that neither the vicar nor the schoolmistress was betrayed into any unbecoming familiarity in front of the children. They might be in love and engaged to be married, but they kept all demonstrations of affection for their private moments together.

  On one occasion, Isobel, who had wandered into the village in search of pink ribbon at the shop, had come into the school at the end of the session. She was there ostensibly in order to walk home with Lavinia, but in fact to show the vicar what he had been missing. She had been keeping away from him for the past few days, much to his secret relief.

  ‘Thank you very much, Mr Ames,’ Caroline had said, very correctly, for a child was still putting the slates away. ‘Your help has, as always, been invaluable.’

  ‘I am glad to have been of service, Miss Tasker,’ the vicar had replied. He bowed, and picked up his hat. ‘I shall see you in church on Sunday, no doubt.’

  ‘Not a wildly passionate romance,’ Isobel had remarked to Lavinia, as they had walked back to the Hall. ‘On the other hand, did you see how he couldn’t keep his eyes off me?’

  ‘I did see him looking at you,’ Lavinia had replied, remembering that she had noted a distinctly hunted expression on the vicar’s face. ‘But Isobel—’

  ‘Really, if one thinks about it, I should be doing her a service to take him away,’ Isobel had continued, interrupting without even noticing that the other girl had something else to say. ‘He would be bound to turn to someone else in the end.’

  Lavinia said nothing in response. Part of her felt guilty about not informing her friend about the true nature of the vicar’s relationship with his fiancée. Every time she thought she might say something, however, she remembered that Isobel might well see this as a challenge. She no longer feared that Isobel’s beauty might prevail; rather, her concern was that the other girl might make a fool of herself, and she did not want this to happen to her friend, however vain she might be.

  ‘This is very good news,’ said Lord Thurlby, as he opened a letter at the breakfast table. ‘You will recall that I escorted my mother to pay a dying friend a final visit. Contrary to every expectation, Mrs Jacklyn is making a good recovery, and consequently, my mother has asked me to fetch her home.’

  ‘That is good news indeed, my lord,’ said Miss Wheatman, beaming. ‘When will you leave?’

  ‘As soon as I have finished my breakfast,’ he replied.

  ‘It will be good to see Aunt Phyllis again, especially under such happy circumstances,’ said Lavinia warmly.

  Isobel agreed, but inside she was feeling far less sanguine. Instinct told her that it would be much harder to keep her correspondence with Lord Riseholm a secret once Lady Thurlby was in residence again.

  After breakfast was over, they all got up from the table, and left the room to go ab
out the business of the day. Lavinia made as if to go upstairs with Isobel, but to her surprise, Lord Thurlby asked for the favour of a few words with her in his study.

  The last time that she had been in this room alone with him, he had reprimanded her and she had responded by slapping his face. As she crossed the threshold, therefore, she found herself examining her conscience to try to think what she might have done that would merit his anger.

  ‘Don’t look so anxious,’ he reassured her. ‘You must think me a dreadful fellow. You look as though you expected a reproof.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I mean, no.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I do beg your pardon. I did not expect anything of the kind. It is just that last time I was in here …’ Her voice faded away.

  ‘Indeed,’ he said into the silence left by her uncompleted sentence. ‘Shall we agree to draw a line under an episode which does not really reflect creditably on either of us?’

  She laughed. ‘I think that it would be as well,’ she answered.

  He was silent for a time. ‘I cannot let this opportunity pass without telling you how regretful I am for misjudging you so seriously,’ he said eventually. ‘I remembered the child that you were—’

  ‘The foolish child that I was,’ she interrupted.

  ‘Just so,’ he agreed with a faint smile. ‘I remembered the child, and when I detected you doing something I thought unwise, I treated you like a child, and forgot that you are a woman.’

  Something in his voice brought forcefully to her mind the fact that if she was now a woman, he was very much a man. ‘I was foolish,’ she agreed, flushing. ‘But I shall not behave in such a way again.’ She was thinking of the journey that she had made without applying to him for help.

  ‘I know that you will not,’ he answered, looking steadily at her. Somehow, she was aware that he was speaking of Lord Riseholm.

  He walked towards her and took her hand, looking down at it, then straight into her eyes. ‘When we were at Folkingham, on top of the tower …’ He paused. ‘Lavinia, you know what almost happened between us at that moment, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes … yes, I do,’ she agreed. She wanted to look away for very embarrassment, but was unable to tear her gaze from his.

  ‘I must not take advantage of you whilst my mother is not here,’ he said. ‘I may spend a few days with the Jacklyns for courtesy’s sake, now that the emergency is over; but after I have brought her home and spoken to her as your guardian at this time, it is my most ardent desire to bring that moment to its proper conclusion.’

  ‘I … I …’ she said, in a tone almost too low for him to hear.

  ‘I do not ask you to say anything,’ he assured her. ‘The fact that your hand still rests in mine allows me to hope. May I speak to her?’

  ‘Yes … yes, you may,’ she said in the same low tone. For answer, he raised her hand to his lips.

  A few days after Lord Thurlby had gone to fetch his mother home, the vicar came into the school after lessons had finished, just as the last child had left. ‘Would you like to come back to the vicarage for a cup of tea?’ he asked.

  ‘I thought that you were due to visit Mr Heggarty,’ said Caroline.

  ‘So did I,’ the vicar answered. ‘However, apparently he forgot all about it and has gone into town for another appointment. So I am free to entertain you. I thought we might celebrate the banishment of the day bed.’

  ‘With pleasure,’ replied Caroline devoutly. ‘It is not that I was ungrateful to Lord Thurlby, but I do hate looking like an invalid.’ To her great relief the doctor had decided that very morning that she need not use the day bed any more, provided that she remembered to sit down from time to time during the day.

  The rest of the tidying up was done, and in no time they were making the short journey to the vicarage. ‘How are the wedding plans going?’ Lavinia asked, as they were walking.

  ‘Is this where I stroll half-a-dozen steps ahead and sing very loudly?’ Timothy asked.

  Caroline laughed. ‘I shall not give any details away,’ she said. ‘There is not a great deal to plan. Timothy and I both want a very simple wedding, but …’ She paused.

  ‘But?’ prompted the vicar and Lavinia in chorus.

  ‘Timothy, I hope you will not mind that I have not consulted you first, but I would very much like Lavinia to be my attendant. I know we said that we would not have any, and I agreed because there was no one that I wanted to ask, but …’

  Lavinia very much wanted to express her delight straight away, for no one had ever made such a request of her before. She did not want to do so unless the vicar also agreed, however, so she held her peace and, it must be admitted, her breath. She need not have worried.

  ‘What a splendid idea,’ he said, beaming. ‘She has been a good friend to you, my dear. It would be a lovely way to acknowledge that friendship.’

  ‘Then we have even more to celebrate than the passing of the day bed,’ smiled Caroline, as they walked up the garden path to the vicarage.

  The weather was so fine that they decided to have tea in the garden. There was an ideal spot just next to the hedge, where a small tree provided a little much needed dappled shade, for the day was quite warm.

  Once the tea had been served, there was no need for concealment, and the vicar and his lady sat quite close together, so that if neither was eating or drinking, they could hold hands.

  ‘I have very much enjoyed working in the school,’ Lavinia confessed. ‘I shall really miss it.’

  ‘But you will be welcome to come and help at any time,’ Caroline assured her.

  ‘You are very good, but I must give some time to Isobel,’ Lavinia replied. ‘I have rather neglected her recently.’ There was a brief silence, during which all of them thought of things that they might have said about the absent Miss Macclesfield. Since they were very well-brought-up people, they did not give voice to these thoughts, however, and began to speak of other matters.

  It had recently occurred to Isobel that she might easily take the opportunity of going to the vicarage whilst Lavinia and Miss Tasker were at the school, and thus catch the vicar on his own. After having made her first approach, she had deliberately whetted his appetite by keeping tantalizingly out of his way. Now was the time to remind him of what he had been missing and, if she knew anything about men – which she flattered herself that she did – she would now find him eager to see her again. When she had encountered him in the school, his eyes had followed her everywhere. Today would be the day. She had indicated to Riseholm that she was to be engaged to the vicar. It was time to make good her boast.

  When she had made her calculations, she had not realized that each week on a Wednesday, the school finished early, and that the vicar might therefore be entertaining his fiancée and her friend. She approached the vicarage from the garden, thinking that on such a lovely day, Ames might be reading outside. That would be a delightful setting in which to surprise him. She imagined herself approaching silently across the grass, her parasol in her hand. It was a charming creation in a rich gold colour, trimmed with gold ribbons, and its colour matched the trimming of her bonnet and brought out the gold of the flowers on her gown. As she drew nearer, he would look up from his book, frowning at first at the distraction, but then smiling at the charming picture before him. He would lay his book aside and rise. She would hold out her hand … She came back to the present all at once. No, he certainly would not laugh; and yet, it was the unmistakable sound of laughter that she had just heard.

  ‘It is no use, Timothy, you will not manage to surprise me into disclosing a single detail of my wedding gown, so you might as well abandon the attempt,’ Miss Tasker was saying.

  ‘Admit that there is nothing to disclose, my darling, for I am willing to wager that you have not ordered it yet,’ was his reply.

  ‘No, I have not,’ Caroline answered, ‘and I am glad of it, for I would very much like to consult Lavinia on the subject.’

  ‘I should be delighted,’ said
Lavinia.

  ‘I am sure that she will advise you well, for she has excellent taste,’ said Ames. ‘But you know, my love, that I am quite indifferent as to what you wear. All that matters to me is that you will be mine in the sight of God.’

  ‘That is what I want as well,’ responded Caroline softly.

  Through the gap in the hedge, Isobel witnessed the vicar raising Caroline Tasker’s hand to his lips. The look of adoration in his eyes was quite unmistakable. She stepped away from the hedge and hurried away, before any of them could so much as detect her presence.

  Chapter Sixteen

  There could have been no one more delighted than Lady Thurlby when her son disclosed to her the nature of his hopes. She had had a very testing time at her friend’s house. During the visit, her emotions had veered wildly between distress at Mrs Jacklyn’s illness – from which she had really not been expected to recover – to thankfulness as the lady’s condition had most unexpectedly improved, to irritation, as she had remembered what a tiresome man her friend’s son had always been. Consequently, Thurlby’s arrival to fetch her home had come as a very welcome relief.

  Clarice Jacklyn had still been confined to her room, but was looking so much better that the countess had ventured to suggest that she might like to pay a visit in the not too distant future. ‘As long as she comes without tedious Thomas,’ Lady Thurlby told her son as they began their journey straight after an early breakfast. ‘As soon as his mother was on the mend, he began telling interminable stories of people that I had never met, and interspersing them all with phrases like ‘as one does’ and ‘strangely enough’ until I thought I would scream.’