The Vicar's Daughter

by Josi S. Kilpack

  Your loving mother,

  Carolyn Glenside

  Evan leaned back in his chair and looked over the elegant hand—too elegant for the wife of a carpenter. He had known his parents’ marriage had been arranged, but he had not thought much of it since all his memories and experience were of two people who loved each other very much. Thinking on that relationship now, he wondered if his earlier determination not to marry was partly due to the fear that he could never recreate what his parents shared. And yet according to this letter, their love had come in time, not all at once.

  He reread the part where Mama had said that Miss Wilton did not seem to trust easily and yet she had trusted him. He hadn’t considered that before, but it was true. Lenora had revealed herself to him in her letters and that was no small thing. And she was a fine woman. A fine woman who would be hurt if he withdrew from her. He did not want to hurt her. Only, he still felt hesitation, an impulse to proceed with caution. Was that because for the last twelve years he had had to be so cautious? Was it because he had not considered marriage with any seriousness until recently, and therefore it was the institution that had him feeling such reticence?

  How he wished Lenora could be as open in person as she had been in her letters. He missed the connection he felt through her words. Cassandra entered his thoughts again. Why could Lenora not be as comfortable with him as her younger sister seemed to be? He chased the thoughts away. There was no space for such speculation. He could not allow it.

  Evan folded his mother’s letter, pondering the primary question that plagued him. Was asking Lenora Wilton to be his wife the right thing to do? Bunderson thought so, and now his mother. Two different perspectives and yet both came to the same point. How could he continue to argue what needed to be done?

  The fatigue he had felt over this situation compounded in his mind, like stones held fast with setting mortar. He was tired of questioning himself, and he had no one else to go to for advice. There was one path to take; it was foolish of him to think otherwise.

  Evan pulled a clean sheet of paper from the shelf on the side of his desk and trimmed his quill. He took a breath, then dipped his pen and began a letter to Mr. Wilton requesting a private audience tomorrow afternoon. Perhaps if he had better understood the way of things he’d have gone about things differently, but who was he to say things weren’t exactly how they were supposed to be?

  He stared at the blank sheet, quill poised over the paper, and forced down any further misgivings. He thought of how happy his parents had been in their arranged marriage, and how much Uncle Hastings had loved Aunt Lucy. Bunderson had relayed his mother’s advice that a good marriage was equal parts choosing a good partner and being a good partner. Evan knew he was capable of his part, and he had no reason to doubt Lenora would not be a good partner too. Evan’s own mother had said that Grace had smiled upon their family. He would be ungrateful not to embrace every good thing that had come his way and face his future with eager resolve to make the most of it.

  He put the point of the quill to the paper and began writing. There would be no turning back.

  Cassie smiled as the familiar spire of the church tower came into view through the carriage window. When she’d left Leagrave a fortnight ago, she didn’t think she’d be happy to come back, but two weeks away from the poor choices she’d made, and, most importantly, away from Mr. Glenside, had been the right course. She was sure of it. She had run through orchards with her nieces and nephews, helped make new curtains for Mary’s parlor, baked, cleaned, and filled several pages of her sketchbook with drawings and paintings. The activities had pushed Mr. Glenside from her mind just as she’d hoped they would.

  She felt some lingering anticipation regarding how she might react when she saw him again, but she was convinced that her feelings for Mr. Glenside were nothing more than a misplaced reaction to her frustration at having had to wait on Lenora for so long. But no more! Now she was eager to have Lenora and Mr. Glenside further their connection—excited even. If they married, she could pursue her own attachments, as had been her original plan.

  Perhaps without the distraction of Mr. Glenside, her opinion of Mr. Bunderson would improve. And if not, well, there were other young men to consider, and there would be even more once the London season ended and those who had gone to town returned home. Cassie would have new dresses and shoes next spring, baubles—to a point—and a reason to wear that pearl-studded tiara she’d loaned to Lenora the fateful night of the Dyers’ ball. That Lenora would be Mrs. Glenside by then would barely warrant Cassie’s notice once she found the right man for herself. She had grown through this hardship, matured and improved, and therefore it was not a waste. Rather, it was for her good. She was content.

  The carriage slowed, and Cassie waited for the driver to open the door for her. By the time she stood on the cobbles, the driver was wrestling her trunk from the rack. Once it was down, she explained that a servant would come for it within the hour.

  “Very good, miss,” the man said before working on the next trunk.

  Cassie turned toward home and had just let herself through the gate when the front door opened and Mama came out to greet her.

  Genuinely glad to see her, Cassie embraced her mother when they met on the pathway.

  “You look very well, Cassie,” Mama said when she pulled back. “A bit browner, perhaps, but I expected as much.”

  Cassie wrinkled her nose. “The weather was so fine these last two weeks, it was difficult to stay indoors. My nieces and nephews do love to run about.”

  “I am sure Mary enjoyed you being there to distract them.”

  “She seemed to, though she never seems to tire. I’m not sure I helped her much.”

  “I’m sure you were a great help.” Mama put her arm through Cassie’s and turned her toward the house. “I’ll send Reginald out for your trunks, but you are just in time.”

  “In time for tea, I hope. I finished the bread Mary sent with me hours ago.” Mary was a practical cook, and Cassie was looking forward to indulging in some of Cook’s fine tarts and light breads now that she was home. They reached the front door and Cassie undid the bow beneath her chin before removing the pin that held her bonnet in place. She smoothed the sides of her hair. She’d been in the coach for hours and feared she looked a fright.

  Mama turned to her and smiled. “We are celebrating.”

  Cassie was touched. “My return?”

  Mama’s smile fell just a little. “That too, but, we are also celebrating your sister. Mr. Glenside has asked for her hand, and she has accepted him.”

  Cassie froze, one hand in midair as she stared at her mother.

  “Is it not excellent news?” Mama said, her smile returning to full form. “Lenora is fairly over the moon about it, and your father and I could not be more pleased. We shall have a family dinner on Sunday to celebrate, but we have not yet told the rest of the family. We knew you would be home today so we saved the happy news for you to hear first.”

  Cassie was still frozen in place, all the discomfort from before she’d left Leagrave sliding right back into place.

  “Are you not happy?” Mama asked, finally seeming to note Cassie’s lack of reaction. “I would think you would be as happy about her match as anyone, seeing as how she controls your destiny.”

  Mama was trying to make a joke, but Cassie could not respond. What had she expected? Hadn’t she left Leagrave so as not to interfere with the courtship? Hadn’t she convinced herself during her time at Mary’s that she had been indulging in a silly fancy without any true foundation in her heart?

  Mama’s smile began to slip and her eyebrows pulled down, prompting Cassie to force a response. “I am happy for her, of course. Only surprised.”

  “I hope you don’t mean that unkindly.” Mama’s tone held a reprimand. “Did I not tell you that your sister would find a man who could see through her insecuriti
es to her good and pure heart?”

  Cassie smiled, though it was hard to do. “You did,” she said evenly. “I should not have doubted you.”

  Mama lifted her chin. “No, you should not have, but all is well.” She took hold of Cassie’s arm. “Come to the parlor. You can be the first to congratulate the happy couple.”

  Couple? Mr. Glenside was there too? Could her timing have been any worse?

  If not for Mama taking her arm, Cassie was sure her feet would not have moved of their own accord, but they obediently followed her mother up the front steps, through the open doorway, and into the parlor. She locked eyes with Mr. Glenside immediately and found it difficult to breathe. He put down his teacup and rose from his chair. Papa stood as well, but Cassie was not looking at him. She was looking into the blue eyes she had felt sure would not affect her this way. Eyes of a man who would be her brother.

  “Ah, Cassie,” Papa said. She looked at him as he crossed to her and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m so glad you’ve come in time to celebrate with us. Your mother told you the news, no doubt.”

  “Y-yes,” Cassie stuttered, moving to an empty chair as far from Mr. Glenside as possible. She looked at Lenora and forced her smile brighter. “I am so happy for you, Lenora.”

  “Thank you, Cassie,” Lenora said with a calm and confidence Cassie did not recognize. Mr. Glenside was right here in the room with them and Lenora had not stumbled over her words. She had not simpered or ducked her head. While Cassie watched, Lenora turned and made eye contact with Mr. Glenside, who smiled at her. “I am so very blessed.”

  Cassie’s heart sank another inch deeper into her chest. Lenora was in love with him. He had asked her to be his wife. Would more time in Bletchley have helped her heart forget Mr. Glenside better than two weeks had? Without meaning to, she met Mr. Glenside’s gaze again.

  “I wish you both very happy.” She spoke as though reading from a script.

  “Thank you,” he said, his words seeping into her, wrapping around her, filling her up and emptying her at the same time.

  This is ridiculous, she said to herself, mentally shaking herself back to sanity. The voice inside her head became a shout: You can’t want this for her and still want him for yourself! She took a breath—a deep, empowering breath of acceptance for what was done and what would be. That the feelings she thought had faded had not done so did not mean that they wouldn’t over time. They had to. Especially now.

  She would find another man to fall in love with. Mr. Glenside would find happiness with Lenora, and Lenora . . .

  Lenora was sitting up straight with a contented smile on her face as she looked at her fiancé—a man she hadn’t been able to look in the eye at the church social five weeks ago. Lenora was happy. Happier than Cassie had ever seen her before.

  This is right, Cassie told herself. This is good.

  Then she looked at Mr. Glenside again. He, too, sat up straight in his chair and though he was smiling, there was a tension about it. He looked anxious and ill at ease and yet trying very hard to cover that fact. He met her eyes from across the room, and she had the briefest mental image of a bird in a cage, beautiful and cared for, but trapped all the same. He looked away, and she stared into her lap. She had often felt like that bird, but it didn’t make sense that Mr. Glenside would. He had asked for Lenora’s hand. Likely it was her own suffocation of feeling attributing such an image to him. She should be ashamed of herself. For so many things.

  The conversation moved around her, and she was able to occupy herself with treacle tarts she could not taste and tea she did not want. The wedding would take place in August, after Mr. Glenside’s mother and sisters had relocated. Papa would conduct the service. The newlyweds would live on the Glenside estate.

  Cassie answered simply when required but otherwise did not assert herself into the conversation. Was it her imagination that Mr. Glenside was behaving the same way? She tried not to be attentive to him. She tried not to engage with him directly. She tried not to look at him. She tried not to let his voice move through her. The longer she sat, however, the harder it was to withstand the effect of his presence. The space in the room seemed to shrink with every passing minute.

  During a lull in the conversation, she spoke up. “I hope it is not rude, but I have been traveling all day and would like to freshen up.” She turned to her father. “Might I be excused, Father?”

  “Certainly,” Papa said, waving her toward the door. “We’re having Mr. Glenside to dinner tonight, along with his uncle, so we shall see you then.” He stood, as did Mr. Glenside—but Cassie did not look at him.

  Once free of the room and those hypnotic blue eyes, Cassie hurried up the stairs, tears threatening with every step. She rushed into her room, then jumped when Young turned around—equally startled. She was unpacking Cassie’s trunk, laying the dresses over the foot of the bed.

  “I need to be alone,” Cassie said too sharply.

  Young raised her eyebrows. “I was just—”

  “Please,” Cassie said, choking on her emotion and closing her eyes. She willed the tears to stay back for a few seconds longer. She pressed a fist into her stomach. “Please, Young. I shall b-be fine to unpack my own trunk, but I must be alone.”

  Young nodded, put down the dress she was holding, and left.

  Cassie pushed the door closed behind the maid and rested her forehead against the wood. There was no reason to hold back the tears any longer and so she let them come, covering her mouth with her hand.

  She was in love with Mr. Glenside—the man Lenora was to marry. Such love should send her heart to fluttering and make her smile. Instead her heart felt like stone.

  She loved him.

  So did Lenora.

  How would she withstand a life of seeing them together? If two weeks away had not cured her, what would?

  “Please share our congratulations with your sister,” Mrs. Grieves said as she handed Cassie the parcel of fabric across the counter. “It is happy news indeed.”

  Cassie kept her smile in place despite the fact that every time someone shared their congratulations for Lenora and Mr. Glenside she felt as though she might cry. Only she didn’t cry; not since that first night in her bedchamber, when she let loose her emotions until she could not breathe. She’d had to pull herself together to manage dinner, but she’d cried herself to sleep that night.

  The next day she awaked with determination to act well the part she’d been given—that of sister of the bride. In the two weeks that followed, while wedding clothes were ordered and the wedding day planned, she had become adept at keeping her expression devoid of anything taking place within her heart.

  “I shall certainly share your compliments, Mrs. Grieves,” Cassie said graciously, then turned and left the store.

  A member of Papa’s congregation called to her, and she was forced to smile her way through another round of congratulations. She agreed it was a lovely thing for Lenora, and that Mr. Glenside was indeed a most eligible man.

  Once she took her leave, however, Cassie felt like spitting out the pretty words. She couldn’t bear to repeat them over and over again. Sometimes it was easier to feel anger than pain; how she wished she could feel nothing.

  Rather than continuing down the main street of the village, Cassie took the road north out of town, then along the canal road that led to the back of the vicarage. She often walked this way to extend her time out of doors, but today it was an escape. Time to give in to her regret, time to wish she’d done things differently, time to admit the horrible turn she had done to herself and to pray, once again, for deliverance. It seemed her prayers were going nowhere, however. Neither circumstances or her heart had changed. The first reading of the banns would take place on Sunday. The reading of the banns was both an announcement and a chance for anyone who felt the marriage should not take place to state their objection. Would that she could
object somehow, but that was only a fantasy. Would she publicly admit she was in love with Mr. Glenside? Would she tell the entire parish what she’d done?

  Of course not. On Sunday, she would sit in the congregation and breathe and smile her way through the reading of the banns and be one step closer to the wedding day. Yesterday Cassie had suggested her going to Bath and attending to Aunt Gwen. She’d felt desperate for escape and assured her mother she’d return in time for the wedding. Mama had not even considered it, claiming there was too much work to be done at home.

  Rose’s pregnancy was becoming troublesome, and she’d begun to rest every afternoon even though she wasn’t due to deliver for nearly three months. Mama was dividing her time between all her daughters, and Cassie was needed to assist with parish responsibilities and household tasks. Cassie had not argued, but it was the closest she’d come to crying since the day of the engagement. She was trapped, and it was stifling.

  The sound of hoofbeats approaching from behind broke Cassie from her ugly thoughts, and she stepped to the side of the lane before looking to see who was coming. When she saw Mr. Glenside looking rugged and handsome on the back of a beautiful butter-colored gelding, she felt sure her lungs had stopped working even as her heart thrilled in her chest. He pulled up alongside of her, then pranced his horse in a circle before jumping down from his saddle. He seemed to have improved in his riding, but she didn’t dare compliment him.

  “I thought it was you, Cassie,” he said as he came to stand before her, his bright blue eyes sparkling in the summer sun. He had started calling her Cassie last week and had said it eighteen times since then. She’d tried not to count but couldn’t help herself. Now it was nineteen times he’d used the nickname reserved for those closest to her. “Might I walk you the rest of the way home? I am to take tea with your family today.”