“I know nothing of the sort. My heart still longs only for you. I’ve asked God to make it clear—to take away my longing for you—if it wasn’t His will.”
“And?”
“Instead it grows stronger every time I’m near you.”
“Utter nonsense.”
“Is it, Mattie? Can you tell me you feel nothing when we touch?
5
Matilda sighed and leaned into Gabriel’s strength. She inhaled his clean scent, and the sun broke through the clouds scattering light across the front of the church. “I feel—”
His head bent as he placed a kiss on her hair. “I long to place those kisses elsewhere, my dear.”
She nodded and turned to look up at him. Would he kiss her here? They were all alone in the church. Suddenly shy, she pulled away, afraid of how much she longed for him in spite of her unworthiness. “I must go.” Rising to her feet she strode to the back door leaving Gabriel behind. It didn’t matter what she felt for him. It could never be right, could it?
She walked home at a rapid pace, partly to escape herself and partly to keep warm. Her toes were already numb in her half-boots. The threatening rain broke loose in a short burst, drenching her before she could get to the front door. She strode in, dripping wet, and removed her cloak, gloves and hat.
Simon took her things. “Would you like me to call a maid to have a bath drawn?”
She nodded. “And a hot cup of tea to my rooms would not go amiss either.” She sneezed.
“Bless you, miss.”
“Thank you, Simon.” She scampered up the stairs to her room and sat to take off her boots and wet stockings. She stirred the fireplace and came close to warm up. Funny how she’d never felt chilled when Gabriel was next to her. It was as if his faith was big enough to warm both of them.
Silly thoughts, weren’t they? She sipped her tea as buckets of water were brought in for her bath. A maid selected a wool gown for when she was finished. Slipping into the perfumed water, Tilly sighed. Her cold body shivered against the hot water. Perhaps a nap would be in order. Anything to turn off her ruminations of Gabriel and dreams that could never come true.
Gabriel stood in front of the church on Sunday morning and an empty pew confronted him. He fought the worry that threatened to distract him from the message he needed give as he led the worship service.
Somehow, he managed to muddle through, but as he stood at the back to the church greeting the villagers who attended, he couldn’t remember anything he’d said. He responded mechanically to the people with whom he was only just becoming acquainted. Once they were gone he walked to his home and fixed a simple lunch. Cleaning up after himself he paced and prayed. Should he go to visit to discover if everyone was well? He couldn’t imagine Lord Hennison skipping services for anything other than illness or death.
Please, Lord, let Mattie be well.
Unable to settle himself he grabbed his coat, hat and gloves and went to the stable where he kept one horse. He saddled her and rode out to the Hennison home.
Leaving the horse with a groom, Gabriel took the front steps two at a time before coming to the door and knocking. At least no black ribbon indicated a death. “Is Miss Wilcox or Lord Hennison available?”
The butler granted him entrance. “I’ll take you to Lord Hennison.”
Gabriel followed the man to a study. Inside he found Lord Hennison sitting by the fire, but the man made no acknowledgement.
“My lord, is all well?” Gabriel asked as he approached his patron.
“Tilly is ill.” Sad eyes glanced to Gabriel. “She’s my sunshine. What would I do without her?”
“Have you been able to rest?”
The older man shook his head. “I’ve paced and prayed all night long. The doctor says she has an inflammation of the lungs.”
Terror shook Gabriel. His grandmother, whom he adored, had died from such an illness. “But surely she’ll recover. She is young.”
“The doctor will make no promises.”
“May I see her?”
“You would risk contracting the illness, Mr. Morgan. ‘Twould not be a wise thing to do.”
“When your wife was ill—did you stay away?”
Old eyes gazed at Gabriel. “I barely left her side…I was there when she passed. But Matilda isn’t your wife.”
“That doesn’t mean I love her any less.”
Lord Hennison nodded. “You may visit her.”
“Thank you.”
The older man rang for a servant, and Simon appeared.
“Find one of the maids and have her show Mr. Morgan to Miss Tilly’s rooms.” He waved them both off.
Gabriel rose and followed the servant.
A maid dusting in the next room walked with him above stairs and took him to Matilda’s bedroom. She opened the door and another maid rose to her feet.
“Lord Hennison has permitted me to visit Miss Wilcox.”
The maid sat as the other left, shutting the door behind her. The room was wreathed in shadows. He strode over to large bed and Matilda reclined, propped up on pillows. Her face was damp with sweat and her hair plaited in the back.
“Mattie?” Gabriel pulled a chair close and reached for her limp hand.
“Hmmm?” Tilly started coughing but it soon subsided. “Water.”
Gabriel grabbed he glass on the table nearby and lifted it to her lips.
She turned her head away when she was done. “Thank you.”
Glassy eyes turned his way. “Gabriel?”
“Yes, it’s me. I missed you in church this morning.”
“Am I on my deathbed that the minister comes to visit me?”
He shook his head and gave a small grin. “You are not well, and I care deeply for you. That alone is what brings me here.”
“You should leave so you don’t get sick, too.”
“I’m not that easy to get rid of.”
“Like fleas on a dog.”
Gabriel grinned. “There’s that sense of humor I’ve been missing.”
“Are you saying I’m dull?”
“No. I simply remember a young girl full of hope and joy. I miss her.”
“Me too. I think she died a year ago.”
“I believe God can bring her back to life.”
“Talking hurts.” She closed her eyes. “I’m glad you came.”
He squeezed her hand, and she returned the gesture. Bending his head, Gabriel began to plead with God to spare Matilda’s life and restore her to health…as well as to the joy she once exhibited…and that if that not be His will, that He would give Gabriel the courage to face that kind of future…
Picking up a clean cloth, he dipped it in a basin of cool water, squeezed it and proceeded to blot Mattie’s overheated face in an effort to provide comfort. Her sigh and slight smile were all the encouragement he needed to remain by her side for the rest of the night.
Tilly’s head throbbed and her chest ached with every breath. Unlike her childhood illnesses where a nurse cared for her, this time she was wrapped in a cocoon of love. How could that be? God are Thou really here with me in the midst of this?
“Come on, sweetheart, take a sip.”
A hand supported her head as something touched her parched lips. Warm broth trickled down her throat, and she could have sighed in bliss if she weren’t eager for more as it soothed her throat and calmed the spasms in her lungs. The cup pulled away, and the hand gently left her head to rest against a pillow. A soft damp cloth touched her face. Ahh, yes. Thank Thou, Lord for not abandoning me.
Her eyes awoke to sunshine streaming in the windows. A maid rushed forward. “Miss, would you like a bath brought up for you?”
Tilly nodded. “Please.” She struggled to throw off her quilt and stumbled to the withdrawing space. Walking slowly back into the main room she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her face was pale and her hair frizzled around her f
ace, coming out of its braid. She untied the ribbon and slowly unwound the hair and began to comb it out.
The bath was soon filled, and Tilly sank into the water and sighed as she closed her eyes. She washed her hair, and after she was out of the basin and dressed, she sat by the fire to let the long locks dry.
A knock came to the door. “Come in!” her voice cracked and she wondered if the person even heard her words. The door opened and her grandfather entered.
“How are you, my dear? I was never so grateful as when I heard your fever broke.”
“I’m weak and tired but my head doesn’t ache and I can breathe without pain or coughing.”
He nodded. “Good.” He sat across from her.
“For how long was I ill?”
“Several days.”
“What day is it?”
“Saturday.”
“I need to get flowers to church.”
“It’s already been taken care of, my dear.”
She scrunched her eyes. “By whom?”
“I sent one of the footmen.”
“They know nothing of arranging flowers.”
“Gabriel assured me that his housekeeper could handle that part of it while you recovered.”
“But Christmas is only a few days away.”
“Yes.”
“I suppose I should eat and rest so I can attend church in the morning.”
“I don’t think you should go.”
“Has the doctor forbidden it?”
“He will be here in an hour or so. He believes your recovery to be a miracle.”
Perhaps it is. Tilly sighed. “I suppose I should rest?”
The doctor entered the room. “After you eat something. Living on broth and water for days doesn’t give you much strength. But start with something light.”
Lord Hennison rose. “She finally awoke and got out of bed.”
“I can see that.” The doctor came to feel her forehead.
Gabriel paced back and forth in his study, praying. He’d returned home only once it was clear Matilda was on the mend. Fatigue weighed him down, but he needed to preach tomorrow morning. What did he have to give? What did God want him to say?
Just rest.
He sighed. Just rest? He shrugged. He wasn’t getting anything accomplished here at the moment. A yawn overtook him, so he banked the fire in his study and took the stairs to his room. If God wanted him to rest, he wouldn’t argue. “If you could wake me up in time to make it to church in the morning, I’d appreciate it.” Boots coat and waistcoat shed, he slipped under the covers. A dreamless sleep overtook him.
In the morning, Gabriel awoke earlier than normal, but fatigue still weighed heavy. He shaved, dressed and went to eat a simple breakfast before heading to his study to pray and seek God.
When the time came, he strode to church. Lord Hennison was there with Mattie. Should she even be out of the house? Was she well enough for this? In spite of his concerns he rejoiced in seeing her. Turning to the congregation, he began an opening hymn, and before he knew it, it was time for his message.
“This is the last Sunday of Advent. In a few days, we celebrate the birth our Savior. Imagine those last days as Mary and Joseph travelled to Bethlehem. Mary was heavy with child. Perhaps they had a donkey to carry their belongings. Joseph was plagued with concern for his wife. All people around them were traveling to the same place. Where would they all rest? Blisters on their feet. Possibly sunburned. Definitely tired. They had no idea of what awaited them.
“To arrive in a town that teemed with people jostling about trying to find warmth, shelter, and food, the young couple found themselves forced to lodge with animals.
“All of this in preparation for the long-awaited Messiah?
“How much more should we wait on God, trusting Him, and His Word, when we are weary, tired, and without hope? Mary carried the hope of the world within her, but we do as well. Were they abandoned in their time of need? From our perspective, it might seem so. But, did Joseph question God about the timing of all of this?
“No. He obeyed God, even in the midst of uncertainty and hardship, and look where that brought them. We’ll look more at this on Christmas Eve, but for now I want to leave you with this question: Do you hold that hope inside you? Is it ready to burst forth even if your current circumstances are not perfect? Are we willing to accept that our Lord might do mighty things even now when we are at our weakest and have no control over events around us?”
He led in a hymn and dismissed the people, heading to the door where the cold air chilled him every time it opened.
Matilda held Grandfather’s arm to stay him from rising to leave. “Let’s wait.”
He nodded.
Gabriel didn’t look well, and he’d lacked his usual passion as he spoke. Had something happened to him this past week? Had he contracted her illness? She worried for him.
Finally, they stood, and holding fast to grandfather’s arm, they slowly made their way to the door as it closed behind the last of the congregation. Gabriel watched their progress.
“It was a fine sermon, son,” Lord Hennison said.
“Are you well, Gabriel? You appear fatigued.” Tilly longed to reach out and touch him, but her prayer book was in one hand and the other held to Grandfather for support.
“I am well as can be expected, Miss Wilcox. I’m glad to see you’ve recovered, but are you sure it was wise to attend this morning?”
She quirked and eyebrow. “Are you telling me I do not appear in good health?” Where was the ready grin on her friend’s face?
“I would never so insult a lady.” His hand covered his heart.
“I’m bamming you, Gabriel. I am tired. You are aware I was sick. The doctor calls my recovery a miracle.”
“Was he that much in doubt?” His frown led her to believe he cared more than he was letting on.
Lord Hennison cleared his throat. “I think it was the speed of the recovery that amazed him.”
Gabriel seemed to relax at those words. “Ah, well that is good to hear. Hopefully, you’ll be able to visit little Bennett again.”
“How is he? Have you been to see him?”
Gabriel shook his head. “I’ve been otherwise occupied but hope to see him before Christmas Eve is upon us.”
“Perhaps we could do that together?” Tilly offered.
“I’d like that.”
“Matilda, we need to get you to the carriage and home so you can rest. I told her she might be overdoing it to come today, but she would not be gainsaid. Stubborn minx.” Lord Hennison grinned down at her.
“Fine. We shall leave. You did well today, Gabriel. Thank you for your thought-provoking message.”
“The glory is God’s, but thank you.”
She gave him a small smile, but his head lowered and she wondered at his reticence. As the carriage pulled away she spied him walk back to his home, head down, hands in his greatcoat pockets.
“Is Gabriel well? He seemed despondent.”
“He’s had an exhausting week, ’tis all.”
“How? Did something bad happen while I was ill?”
Lord Hennison reached over to pat her knee. “Your illness weighed heavily on all of us.”
She frowned. “Even mother?”
Now it was Lord Hennison’s turn to avoid her gaze as he forbore answering her. Tilly sighed and relaxed against the squabs. Soon she would be home, eat, and return to her bed to rest.
Curiosity swirled within her. What happened while she’d lain ill?
6
Gabriel stretched out on the sofa in his study. The fire blazed, keeping the room warm. He just finished a simple repast of bread and cheese. He’d given his staff leave to be with family for the week. The house was empty as a tomb and his heart ached that Matilda didn’t remember him spending the past week by her side, caring for her whenever the maids weren’t required. He had neglected his own needs so completel
y that it had taken some time to shave when he’d returned home, all scraggly and run down.
While running a fever, she’d told him she loved him and always had. Now she had no memory of his ministrations, and he had to wonder if her profession of affection was merely delusional talk caused by her illness.
Or perhaps he imagined it?
Sighing he closed his eyes and soon drifted to sleep, dreaming of his blonde angel holding a child and looking up at him with a smile.
Grandfather and Mother yelled at each other on Sunday afternoon, but Tilly never heard the words. The next day, her mother arrived downstairs for breakfast. Tilly had been so shocked she could hardly eat.
Her mother asked her to help with planning meals for the week. When that was accomplished, Mother went to rest, as did Tilly who experienced fatigue, not having fully recovered her strength. Tilly dreamed of Gabriel and what life would be like as his wife.
Hopeless dreams. They meant nothing.
If only she could convince herself of that.
Gabriel slid out of bed to his knees, exhaustion still clinging to him. He wasn’t getting sick too, was he? He hoped not. There’d be no one to care for him. Not even servants. Bowing his head, he poured out his heart to God, asking for the strength to make it through the day.
Dragging himself to his feet he shaved and dressed. His clothes hung on him, having dropped weight the past week. Walking downstairs he shuffled to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and enjoy some jam on a slice of bread.
He settled into his study with his repast and kindled the fire. He sank into a chair to eat. The words of Psalm 42:5 slipped from his lips. “Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me? Hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.”
It was as if he had soaked up all Matilda’s grief and shame, carrying it on his shoulders. She’d seemed lighter, albeit weak, yesterday. He was the one oppressed. He hadn’t stayed by her side to be noticed, but only because he loved her and longed to serve her—to be near and assure himself she would be well.
God granted that request, but the desire of his heart remained elusive. Psalm 38:9 spring to his lips. “Lord, all my desire is before Thee; and my groaning is not hid from Thee.” But of course, his one desire should not be in a future with Mattie. It was to be in God and God alone. “Have I sinned against, Thee? That I have desired her more than Thou? Forgive me, Lord.”
Gabriel's Gift Page 5
