She nodded, apparently not seeing anything unusual in his sudden departure, and immediately became absorbed in the work.
Even though he was ostensibly seeking one of the servants, he was relieved to see no one in the hallway. He needed a quiet moment to take a deep breath and regain his composure. How could this woman have such an effect on him?
“May I help you, sir?”
Michael nearly jumped as the footman seemed to materialize from the shadows. “Yes, will you bring us some tea? And a few cakes, if there are some at hand.”
“Certainly, sir.”
The footman thus dispatched, Michael took another few moments alone before returning to the parlor.
When he went back in, Julia was still concentrating on her task. Her pen was paused over the paper, and with her other hand she was tapping a finger on her cheek.
It’s a simple gesture, he told himself. Plenty of people do the same. But he could not recall a time when it had made him notice an appealing mouth so close by.
He returned to the seat beside her. “How are you progressing?”
She pushed the paper toward him. “I believe I’ve gone as far as I can. I’m afraid I can’t think of the words for hogshead or wildflower.” She laughed. “Seems an odd juxtaposition, doesn’t it?”
“Indeed,” he replied, smiling a little. Now that he had composed himself, he was braced to discuss the passage without getting caught up in memories. He read over what she had written and was impressed that she’d gotten as far as she had. Perhaps she would be ready to pass that exam in a few months after all. But there were still some gaps. “I believe you used the gerund here when you intended the pluperfect.”
He had her write out the correct tense of the verb and pointed out a few other minor errors. They also took time to discuss two of the rhetorical devices in the piece.
“On the whole, this is tolerably good,” he concluded, just as the maid arrived with the tea service.
It wasn’t exactly profuse praise, but Julia responded with a smile of pride nonetheless, just as she’d done earlier. “May I look up those other two words?” She indicated the closed dictionary on the desk.
“Yes, that’s a good idea.”
The maid set the tray on a nearby table. There were cakes and, Michael was happy to see, sandwiches, too. Corinna’s staff was well-trained to handle any request at a moment’s notice, and by now they knew how much he enjoyed cold beef sandwiches.
The tea, too, was flavored with orange, another favorite of Michael’s. He saw Julia inhale deeply as its scent reached her, but she did not look up until she had found the words she was seeking in the dictionary and written them down.
“You are quite disciplined,” he observed.
“Years of practice. At the hospital, my meal often had to wait until more critical tasks were completed.” She closed the books and stood up.
The maid was still standing next to the table where she’d set the tea tray. “Shall I serve you, sir?” she offered.
Michael suddenly found himself at a loss. He was not entirely sure of the protocol in this situation. Although he’d taken tea at the club and in dozens of fine homes, he’d always been the visitor being served. He glanced over at Julia. She also looked unsure what to do.
“Thank you, but we’ll just serve ourselves,” Michael told the maid.
She nodded and left the room, but not before something flickered in her expression that might have been disapproval.
“I’ve never been in the position of having to serve a lady before,” he admitted. He didn’t think the times he’d handed a cup to his sister counted.
“I’m honored to be the first.” Julia sent a longing glance toward the sandwiches. “But I don’t think we should stand on too much ceremony, do you? As we might both be said to be guests here?”
“Excellent point.”
They seated themselves at the tea table.
“Might we pray first, before eating?” Julia asked.
Pray? Michael could not remember the last time he’d heard grace before a meal. It had probably been before his mother died. He was not comfortable with the idea, but he could not refuse her request.
Julia bowed her head. Michael did, too, but instead of closing his eyes, he watched her as she prayed.
“Dear Lord, we thank you for this food and for your bounteousness to us. May your hand of blessing be upon us and upon this house. Amen.”
The prayer, which was brief but elegant, moved him. Or perhaps it was the expression on Julia’s face as she prayed. He saw peacefulness there. However proud she was of her personal accomplishments, she seemed to have true humility before her God. There was generosity in her choice of words, too. May your hand of blessing be upon us and upon this house. Julia had to be aware that his sister was providing this location to them unwillingly. It had been abundantly clear in Corinna’s attitude every time she’d seen Julia in the house. But Julia had prayed this prayer anyway.
She poured the tea, and they each helped themselves to the sandwiches and little tea cakes. As they ate, Michael realized this might be a good time to ask Julia about her background. He’d promised Corinna to do this several weeks ago, but the time had never felt right. Besides, any worry on his part over her possible ulterior motives had lessened as he’d seen her genuine determination to learn Latin. She came to every lesson with her homework painstakingly complete and a single-minded focus.
Now he wanted to find out about her not from suspicion but because he was personally interested. “May I ask you a question?”
Julia swallowed the bit of sandwich she’d been chewing. “Of course.”
“Where are you from? How is it that you were able to come to London to study? At our first meeting, you mentioned having a generous benefactor, yet it seems you were supplied with everything except a Latin tutor.”
Julia wiped a crumb from her mouth with a napkin, but Michael had the distinct impression the action covered up a smile. “Grammar, Mr. Stephenson,” she chided. “I think that was three questions, if we count that last declarative sentence as a question.”
“Perhaps you think I’m prying. But you can understand why I’m curious.”
“I don’t mind. I’m happy to tell you. The truth is, I lost my benefactor only days before that accident on the Underground.”
“Who was he?”
“It was a lady, actually. Perhaps I should go back a bit.” She took a sip from her teacup before continuing. “My two sisters and I grew up in an orphanage in Bristol. Actually, it’s in an area just north of Bristol called Ashley Down.”
Michael could scarcely believe it. She had a level of poise he would not expect from someone with such a background. She had always displayed reasonably good breeding, even if she was a tad too direct at times.
“You look surprised.”
“Yes, well, considering where you are now, a student at Queen’s College with plans to study medicine . . .”
She nodded. “I suppose my story is a bit unusual. I’ve come a long way, with the help of God.” Having finished her sandwich, she took another sip of the orange spice tea. “The first thing I should tell you is that the orphanage is supported entirely by prayer. Mr. Müller, the founder, never solicits donations or money. He only sends his requests to God.”
“That seems a risky way of managing things.”
“Yet the prayers have always been answered! Money, clothing, food.” She picked up a tea cake. “Even furniture and other items. They always seem to arrive just as they are needed.”
If this was true, it would go a long way toward explaining Julia’s strong faith. Michael nodded noncommittally, taking a bite of his own sandwich as he waited for her to continue. She did—after she finished off a tea cake.
“At the orphanage, the boys are apprenticed out at age fourteen. The girls stay on until they are seventeen, but during those last few years, they work at the orphanage in various roles, including overseeing the younger children. They are even p
aid a small stipend for it. I was assigned to the infirmary. That’s when I began to realize I had an aptitude for nursing.”
“Is there a lot of sickness at the orphanage?” Michael envisioned it as a soulless and unsanitary place. Maybe even a breeding ground for typhoid.
She held up a hand. “Please don’t get the wrong impression! The buildings are very clean and orderly. But with two thousand children, there will always be someone under the weather. Not to mention the usual scrapes and sprains from raucous playtimes—”
“Did you say two thousand?”
“That’s right.”
“Supported only by prayer.”
She caught the disbelief in his voice. “I suppose it seems surprising for those who have never tried it. But it works.”
Michael wasn’t ready to contradict her, and in any case, she continued her story without waiting for his reply.
“There was a doctor in Bristol who visited our little sick ward sometimes. I used to pester him endlessly with questions.”
“That seems hard to believe.”
She grinned. “He was impressed with my abilities, so he contrived to get me into training as a nurse after I left the orphanage. I was younger than the age they usually accept, but they made an exception for me on the strength of the doctor’s word and by ensuring that I worked only with women and children. As I gained experience, my interest in medicine grew. A few years ago, when the laws were changed to allow women to qualify as doctors, I knew that’s what I wanted to do with my life. Then last year, Mrs. Staunton, who was always a generous donor to the orphanage, offered to pay my way to medical school. It was another case of God answering prayer, because I did not ask her for money—she offered it. I had nursed her little boy through a very bad bout of the flu, and she was grateful to me for that.”
“But you said earlier that she is no longer your benefactor?”
“That’s true,” she replied sadly. “I’m sorry to say her husband’s bank failed, and they are without any funds to give.” She added cheerfully, “I still have enough to live on, though. For a while.”
“For how long?”
She shrugged. “Sufficient unto the day. I know God will provide other means when I need it.”
That answer sounded as precarious as the idea of the orphanage surviving only by prayer. More troubling to Michael was the news she conveyed about her benefactor. “It seems wrong somehow that the Stauntons should be in these financial straits if they were answering prayer by giving you money.”
“Are you suggesting God somehow fell short, causing or allowing the bank failure? No!” She waved a hand to accentuate the word. “Sometimes bad things happen in this world. But we can always look to God for a way up and out. It was a blow for them, to be sure. I pray every day for their recovery. I know God will give them the help they need. The Bible says we are to continue ‘instant’—that means steadfastly—in prayer, so that’s what I do.”
Michael was silent for a few moments, considering her words. It had been many years since he’d thought or even heard so much talk about prayer. His mother used to pray with him and Corinna every night before bed, but it always seemed to be for vague, general things. Not the kind of specific requests Julia talked about. He toyed with the rim of his teacup, remembering the prayer she’d spoken before they ate.
“When you prayed for this house, I suppose you were including the people in it, as well?”
“Naturally. I am grateful to your sister for allowing us to meet here.”
“Even though she does it grudgingly and only as a favor to me?”
“Perhaps especially so. It shows me how much she loves you that she would agree to this despite her personal preferences. I respect that. My two sisters and I would do just about anything for each other. I believe there are few things in life more important than one’s family—don’t you?”
That was true. Family was so important that it impacted every aspect of Michael’s life. Even areas where he would have preferred greater latitude.
When he didn’t respond right away, Julia said, “It was merely a rhetorical question. You needn’t answer if you don’t care to.”
“No, you’re right, family is important. Corinna has done a lot for me over the years. More than most people realize. In fact, if it were not for her, I would not be teaching you Latin. Not for lack of a location, but because I would never have attended university.”
Michael could see in Julia’s expression all the questions she wished to ask. Maybe she hesitated because he’d asked her before not to pry. Perhaps it would be good if he told her. Easter was coming up, and afterward the social season would be in high gear. Corinna expected many things of Michael—things he knew he must do. Julia had behaved charitably toward his sister, even though Corinna’s manner could be abrasive. But Michael wanted her to understand that Corinna had good reasons for behaving as she did.
“Corinna is the only family I have. Since you were raised in an orphanage, I suppose that means you lost your parents at a young age?”
“Yes.”
“We have that in common, then. My mother died when I was nine years old, and my father died seven years later.”
Julia made a murmur of sympathy.
“My father left many debts. We had to sell off everything to escape the creditors. Corinna was only nineteen, but she had been managing the affairs of the household since our mother died. Our father’s spendthrift ways had put us in a precarious financial position, and though she tried to curb expenses wherever she could, in the end, it wasn’t enough. We found ourselves, in essence, penniless.”
“How terrible!” Julia stared at him, wide-eyed. “What did you do?”
“I was at Harrow when he died, and of course I was immediately recalled home. It took nearly a year to dispatch my father’s estate and determine exactly how deep in debt we were. I was ready to go out and earn my living however I could. I had enough schooling to get a job as a clerk, perhaps at a bank or a solicitor’s office. But Corinna was determined that I should go to university and that she would get me there.”
“How did she do that?”
“By marrying David Barker.”
Julia downed the last of her tea, but Michael was sure the look on her face had nothing to do with how the beverage tasted.
“I put it too coarsely. I don’t wish to disparage Corinna in any way. Many would call it a marriage of convenience, but in fact, David loved her long before she consented to marry him. They had met a year or so before my father died, and David had been smitten with her from the start. And now, I think, they are reasonably happy.”
“So it was Mr. Barker who paid your way.”
“Yes, I suppose that is more accurate. From the moment they became engaged, he loved me as a brother and has always been generous with his money. He was as adamant as Corinna that I should go to university. He never had that opportunity. He worked himself up to riches, being the son of a dry-goods merchant, and has earned a lot of money through insurance and foreign investments. Some people just have a talent for business.”
Julia tilted her head, studying Michael. “What do you think your life would be like if you were a solicitor’s clerk?”
It was a question Michael had asked himself many times. “It would have been like sitting near a banquet without being able to partake of it. I’ve always loved the law and wanted only to be a barrister. Perhaps I may even be a judge someday. I tell you these things so that you might understand why I never balk at my sister’s requests or aspirations—at least, not too much.”
“Yes, I see. I agree that she is to be lauded for doing so much for you. But do you really think she had to marry into money to do it? I’m an orphan, but God provided money for me. He always finds a way.”
“Perhaps Corinna was the means for how He provided,” Michael countered. “As the Stauntons were for you.”
“Did you ever go to God? Pray about the situation?”
Michael didn’t need to answer. Sh
e saw it in his face.
“That’s too bad. Perhaps that might have led you to a better solution.”
“Yes, we saved ourselves by our own devices. We saw it as playing the hand we’d been dealt. I’m not going to second-guess our actions.”
He had to believe Corinna’s sacrifices had not been entirely self-serving. There had to be something spiritual in a sister’s devotion. But these were questions he never felt qualified to delve into, despite the very fine education purchased for him by Corinna and David.
“You have sisters,” he added. “As you said, you and your sisters would do anything for each other.”
“Just about anything.” She reminded him of that qualifier, which he hadn’t really grasped before.
“‘Just about’?”
“If the request goes against what I know to be right, I must remain true to my conscience, even if it might seem ungrateful to others. I believe that must end up being better for everyone.”
“‘To thine own self be true’?”
She looked at him blankly, and he realized she didn’t understand the reference. Perhaps there had not been a lot of Shakespeare in her past schooling.
“It’s from Hamlet. ‘To thine own self be true, and it will follow, as the night the day, thou can’st not be false to any man.’”
“Oh, I see. That’s lovely.”
She looked at him with what he could only describe as admiration, much as she’d done during their lessons whenever he’d helped her grasp a new concept.
He’d done what he told Corinna he would do. He’d gotten the story of Julia’s background. It turned out she was dangerous after all. Not because she deliberately intended to do him harm—that kind of attack would have been easy to repel. No, the problem was far more complex. He would have been better off not inquiring. To have kept a safe, ignorant distance. From her wide-eyed earnestness to the way her slender fingers absently brushed a crumb from her skirt, he was far too drawn to her. This was a stealthier encroachment on his heart. He had better retreat before it was too late.
The Heart's Appeal Page 13
