Vicar's Daughter

by Kimberley Comeaux

  Taken off guard, Christina paused, then stammered, “Uh, meeting?” Then she realized he was trying to give them both an excuse to leave the room. “Oh! Yes. I thought. . .perhaps. . .I should come down and. . .uh. . .remind you. Of the meeting.”

  Christina refused to look at anyone but Nicholas, but she could feel their eyes on her and knew they were thinking the same thing she was—she had sounded like a complete idiot!

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you to my aunt,” he told everyone in the room. “I always meet with my nephew every day at this time, so I know you will understand if I hesitate to break our regular schedule.”

  “Nicholas!” his aunt spoke up. “Surely you can postpone for one day.”

  “Oh, no, please keep your schedule with your nephew,” the elder Lady Delacourt chimed in. “Bonding with one’s parent is so important at this age. I myself met with my daughter for one hour a day when she was a babe, and now we enjoy the closest of relationships.”

  Christina glanced at Serena Delacourt just in time to see the bored look she gave her mother at that comment. She didn’t blame her. Christina couldn’t imagine one hour a day being enough time for a parent to spend with their child.

  “You are correct, Lady Delacourt,” he responded with a nod.

  After assuring them he would see them at dinner, Nicholas motioned for Christina to precede him out the door, which he shut firmly behind them.

  “If you had shown up a minute later, I fear I might have gone mad!” he whispered, then grinned at her. “Listening to how many ladies were wearing pink at the last ball Lady Serena attended was not what I call stimulating conversation!”

  “But she is quite beautiful, don’t you think?” Christina said. “Very poised and I’m sure extremely accomplished.”

  “Accomplished in what, pray? Boring a man to tears?” He shook his head. “No, dear Christina. I know what you are saying and I’m telling you to put your mind at ease.” They were walking out to the garden when Nicholas suddenly pulled her off the path and into a secluded nook.

  He cupped her face with his large, strong hands and gazed at her as if she were the most important person in the world to him.

  “Christina, I asked you yesterday what your feelings were concerning me, but in my excitement I neglected to tell you just what my feelings are for you.”

  Her heart felt as though it might pound right out of her chest. “And?” she prompted.

  “My feelings are so great that I cannot envision a life without you,” he stated fervently. “But I am afraid I am not worthy of you, Christina. You deserve so much better a man than I have been.”

  Christina’s eyes filled with tears of wonderment and complete happiness. “It is the past, Nicholas. You are that man no more. You’ve allowed God to change you, you must realize that.”

  He caressed the sides of her face with his thumbs. “I know He is changing me. I’ve been studying the Scriptures and want the kind of relationship with God that you and your father have. I just feel as though I need to make restitution for some of my past misdeeds. That is why I have agreed to let my aunt invite half the ton to Kenswick Hall. When I ask your father for your hand, I want to be able to present to you a name of good standing—not one that has been sullied. Perhaps these visits will let me once again be in their favor.”

  “But, Nicholas, my father will see that you have changed. And, besides, you know I care nothing for London society. Why should I be bothered if they accept us or not?”

  “But you must, Christina, for our sake, for Ty’s sake, and for any other children we will have. We don’t have to be in their inner circle, but it is always better to be on good terms with them.”

  Christina had to voice her most important concern. “But will not your marrying a commoner such as I ostracize you anyway?”

  “The ton is a fickle and hypocritical lot! As charming and beautiful as you are, my dear, I daresay you would win over the most ardent critic,” he assured her.

  Christina was about to ask him how long they would have to wait before he spoke to her father, but Mrs. Sanborne called her name from the other side of the garden. Sighing, she said, “As much as I hate it, I should probably let you go back to your guests.” Then she remembered something. “Oh! Please reassure Mrs. Sanborne that you do not intend to let her go from her position. She overheard your aunt berating her competence as Ty’s nanny.”

  Nicholas groaned. “She must have berated my new valet, Smith, in the same conversation, for he kept asking me this morning if his work was sufficient to my needs. I didn’t understand why he was suddenly insecure when he’d been nothing less than swaggering before. Now, however, it all falls into place.”

  “I shall be glad when all your visits from London society are over with and your aunt has gone from Kenswick!” she confessed, unable to hide her frustration with the whole matter.

  Nicholas laughed softly as he bent down to kiss her on the nose. “No more so than I,” he agreed before kissing her again.

  This time on the lips.

  “Now I shall go and say hello to my nephew before returning inside. I don’t want to become a liar on top of everything else I have done,” he teased as he left her standing alone.

  Christina could not even remember telling him good-bye, so stunned was she at the warm touch from his lips. In fact, she might have stayed there all day had not Mrs. Sanborne called her name again, urging her to join them.

  She and Nicholas exchanged a secret look when she approached. It was as if they both wanted to keep their news to themselves for awhile. After a moment, he went back inside and Christina stayed in the garden.

  It took great effort to concentrate on the conversation as the women chattered about the guests and wondered what styles they wore. Nicholas’s lovely words kept swimming around her mind, thrilling her every time she recalled them. She wanted to remember them, dream of them for a few days, until Nicholas’s promise came to fruition.

  Until he asked her father for her hand.

  Fifteen

  “I have paraded four exquisite young women in front of you in the last week and yet you show no inclination to make an offer to any of them!” Nicholas’s aunt declared as she entered his suite of rooms unannounced. He was busy putting the finishing touches to one of his small figurines.

  She stopped abruptly. “Whatever are you doing?”

  Blowing away the remaining wood shavings, he set the figurine of his cat, licking one of its front paws, on the edge of his worktable.

  Still somewhat bemused, Aunt Wilhelmina picked it up and studied the intricate detail. “You have the gift,” she whispered with awe, her eyes still on the figurine.

  He raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

  “My father, your grandfather, used to carve the most wonderful little statuettes and give them to the children of the village. I have five of them in my home in Stafford.”

  Stunned, Nicholas shook his head. “I don’t remember him. I was only two or three when he died, and Father never mentioned it.”

  “Of course he wouldn’t have. If memory serves me correctly, William used them as his targets when practicing his archery.”

  Nicholas chuckled. His father had been the consummate hunter and fisherman. He wouldn’t have cared about a few chunks of decorative wood—not when they served his purpose better honing his own hobby!

  “Now, back to your marriage,” Aunt Wilhelmina began.

  “What marriage?”

  His aunt placed the carving back on his desk and folded her arms across her chest in a no-nonsense manner. “My point exactly. You must try to make a worthwhile effort if there is going to be a marriage! Really, Nicholas. You cannot shirk your responsibility to your nephew or your title. You must make a match, and the sooner the better.”

  Nicholas was so tired of playing his aunt’s game. Because of the many guests she’d paraded in and out of his home, he had not spoken to Christina but a few minutes each day. And the day before, when h
e spoke to her, she’d said she would be too busy to come by for the next few days. She’d seemed preoccupied, even a little distant.

  What in the world was she doing? Had she decided to move on with her life without him? Perhaps she’d decided to marry a farmer the vicar had picked out for her. . . .

  “Nicholas, are you daydreaming?” his aunt scolded as she tapped on his table with her blue silk fan. “Will you stop dilly-dallying and start taking this seriously?”

  “I already have,” he stated firmly, deciding it was time to tell her of his true plans.

  “I beg your pardon? What does this mean?”

  “I have already chosen a bride.”

  When his aunt broke into a triumphant smile, Nicholas knew she had taken his words the wrong way. “Which one? The Delacourt girl? No! I know it’s the beautiful blond one. . .Constance, I believe her name was.”

  “You misunderstand me, Aunt,” he interrupted before she became too excited. “I intend to marry Christina Wakelin.”

  “That little vicar’s daughter?” she cried with unbelief. For a moment, Nicholas was afraid she might faint from the shock, but she seemed to pull herself together. Taking a breath and clearing her throat, she told him, “Nicholas, Dear, girls such as that are for mild flirtations and amusement to a nobleman of your station. You do not, however, marry them.”

  “I’m in love with her,” he stated bluntly.

  She gave a trilling little laugh at those words. “Is that all? What has love to do with anything? Once you are married to a girl of good breeding, you’ll soon forget about this lapse in judgment.”

  Nicholas grew irritated by her flippant attitude for all that he considered precious. He stood to his feet. “She is not a lapse, Aunt. She is the woman I intend to marry, the woman who will bear the next Earl of Kenswick.”

  Aunt Wilhelmina grabbed her fan and cooled her face in a rapid, erratic manner. “Do not say that, I beg you. You mustn’t even joke about such a travesty!”

  Nicholas replied calmly. “My mind is made up. There shall be no more discussion on this subject.”

  She did not speak for a moment, and Nicholas could not read her face. She made a show of smoothing the lace at her wrist. “And have you asked her father for her hand?” she said, a strange calmness to her voice.

  Nicholas did not trust it. “No.”

  “Ah,” she said and stood. “And what of the other guests I have invited? Would you have me cancel their invitations when some of them might already be on their way?”

  Of course he could not do that. It would further cast a stain against his name to make such a social faux pas. “No, but issue no more invitations. At the week’s end, I shall speak to Reverend Wakelin and make the announcement to the newspapers.”

  “Of course, Dear,” she answered with a submissiveness that rang false in Nicholas’s ears. “Just this week.” He noticed she completely ignored his latter statement.

  After she left, Nicholas did not dwell on his aunt’s strange behavior. Instead, he stood and closed his eyes in a prayer to God.

  “Let this week pass quickly, Lord,” he prayed. “And prepare the vicar’s heart so I might find favor with him at the week’s end.”

  The latter request was the one thing Nicholas feared would foil his plans with Christina. The last time marriage was mentioned concerning his daughter, the vicar’s feelings on the subject had been clear—he was not in favor of any connection between Christina and himself.

  ❧

  Christina had worked tirelessly for two days as she helped Mrs. Ledbetter, a young mother in the village, care for her one-year-old twins as she delivered yet another baby. Her husband, a soldier, had recently left with his regiment for three months. The woman had no one to help her.

  How fortunate for him, Christina thought in a rare moment of feeling sorry for herself. Although other women from the village had taken turns helping Christina, she had been there the entire time, with little sleep.

  In the late afternoon, she was relieved by an older woman from the church who had reared eight children of her own. She told Christina to go home and rest.

  Back at home, Christina was even too tired to eat. All she wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for the rest of the day and night.

  Her father came out of his study as she reached the stairs and looked up from the book he’d been reading. He stepped forward to pat her on the head as if she were a little girl, then mumbled something about God rewarding her for her hard work. Since this was not unusual behavior, she smiled at him and started up the stairs.

  She got no farther than the fourth step when a knock sounded at the door.

  Mrs. Hopkins looked up at Christina as she hurried to answer it. “Were you expecting someone, Miss Christina?”

  “No,” she answered, wishing she could just ignore the knock. “I suppose you better answer it. I am not dressed to receive visitors, but with father deep in study, I suppose I’d better.” She looked down at her soiled brown dress. “Perhaps it is someone in need.”

  But it wasn’t, much to Christina’s horror and dismay. There on the vicarage doorstep stood Lady Wilhelmina Stanhope, looking as out of place in the humble home as a fish in the desert. Draped in a mint green silk gown of the latest London fashion, she had the accessories to match, including a perfectly dyed umbrella she used as a cane.

  “Lady Stanhope!” Christina greeted with a pleasantness she did not feel as she came back down the stairs. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

  Her ladyship’s eyes widened as she perused Christina’s dress. “I seem to have come at a bad time,” she said. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you look so dreadfully ill in all the time I’ve been at Kenswick.”

  It was all Christina could do to remain calm. What she really wanted to do was demand that the horrible woman leave her home and take her critical words with her.

  But, of course, she did not. If Nicholas could change his life, surely Lady Stanhope could also—with some time and a lot of effort.

  “I’ve just come from the home of a young mother who has delivered a baby. I’ve been there for two days, helping her with her young twins,” she explained, hoping the woman would take the hint that she was quite tired.

  She did not. “I see,” she said, although it was clear from her tone that she did not see and certainly did not understand. “I’ve come to have a word with you, Miss Wakelin. It is a matter of great importance.”

  Christina could not decline. “Why don’t we go into the front parlor?” To her housekeeper, she asked, “Could you bring us some tea, Mrs. Hopkins?”

  “I’ll not be here that long,” Lady Stanhope declared before the housekeeper could even nod her head.

  Christina sighed and shook her head toward Mrs. Hopkins to let her know tea, apparently, would not be needed.

  She led Lady Stanhope into the bright, cheerful room that was a favorite of Christina’s with its yellow floral wallpaper and her mother’s colorful paintings on the walls. She motioned for Lady Stanhope to take the sofa, and she did so, but not before casting a disapproving glance around the room.

  “Your living arrangements are very small, Miss Wakelin,” she observed, keeping a hand on the handle of her upright umbrella. “Have you but one servant?”

  “No, we also have a cook,” Christina replied a little defensively. “My father and I have always found our home quite sufficient for our needs.”

  “Ah. And your mother?”

  “She died when I was a small child. Lady Stanhope, did you not say you had a matter of great importance to discuss with me?”

  The woman’s back stiffened at Christina’s blunt remark. “Let me get right to the point. I know you have been a great assistance to my nephew these last few months and helped him to overcome the troubled state that prevailed upon him after he left the war.”

  “Well, I was simply doing what I felt God led me to do,” Christina replied. “I knew he could overcome his bitterness and pain once he—” />
  “Yes, yes, Dear. There’s no need to go on about it,” Lady Stanhope interrupted. “The point I am trying to make is that because he was weak, and I might say vulnerable, during this time, he has allowed his emotions, it seems, to replace his good judgment.” She leaned forward, giving Christina a hard look. “You understand what I am saying, don’t you?”

  “Nicholas told you about his feelings toward me,” Christina whispered in wonderment.

  Lady Stanhope gripped her umbrella, tapping it on the floor for emphasis. “He says he intends to marry you!”

  Christina smiled widely.

  “Do not look so happy about it, young lady. I’ll have you know that by marrying you he is jeopardizing his entire future and bringing shame upon a family title that has flourished for six generations!”

  Christina tried valiantly to hold her temper. “How? How am I jeopardizing his future and bringing shame to him?”

  The elder woman tapped hard on the floor again. “Who is your family? What are their connections other than some minor baronet in your family tree? What do you bring to this marriage if not position? A large dowry perhaps?” she said snidely, peering down her nose at Christina.

  “I bring him love and happiness!”

  “Humpft!” the woman sniffed.

  Christina stood with hands on hips. “I also bring to him a relationship that is grounded in God’s love, stable and unwavering.”

  Lady Stanhope stood as well. “What good is love if all of society snubs him and his offspring? How happy will you be watching his peers laugh behind his back or, worse, feel sorry that at a moment of weakness he allowed himself to settle so far beneath him! How stable will your marriage be when he wakes up one morning realizing he made the worst mistake of his life by marrying a vicar’s daughter?”

  Tears prickled behind Christina’s eyes as the woman’s words drove like daggers into her heart. “Is that what you think?” she asked hoarsely. “Do you believe he only thinks he loves me because he is grateful for my help?”

  “Think about it, Dear,” she soothed. “Nicholas was once the most sought after nobleman in England. He knew of you even then, did he not?”