by Martha Keyes
Georgiana shook her head with a small laugh, feeling her cheeks warming. Her duties were much less of a burden than anyone realized, so interconnected with Mr. Derrick’s company had they proved to be. “I still have the better part of a year to prove you wrong, you know.”
Archie went on his way, while Mr. Burke and Mr. Derrick walked beside Georgiana in the direction of the church, discussing the successes and hiccups of the day as well as the notable absence of John Reed. There was deep concern in the vicar’s voice as they spoke of him, and he expressed his hope that paying him another visit on the morrow would prove to be more beneficial than had been his last visit.
Mr. Burke parted ways with them at the church gate, letting the vicar know he would be behind him a half hour, as he needed to spend a little time with his wife and children after cleaning up.
Mr. Derrick opened the latch of the gate as Mr. Burke walked off, inviting Georgiana to pass through before him. Her heart jumped as she brushed by him through the opening. There was nothing like the way she felt in his presence.
“I shall open the vestry for you,” he said, “but I hope you will spend only a few minutes recording the day’s tasks.” He smiled at her as he opened the door to the church. “What you need is a solid meal and a good night’s rest.”
She returned his smile as they stepped into the nave, where it was so silent that she worried Mr. Derrick might hear her heart beat echoing among its walls.
He opened the final door for her, ensured she had the quill and ink she needed, and then excused himself, leaving her with a feeling of disappointment. She heavily suspected that her heart would only be content with being near him at all times.
She stifled a sigh as he closed the door to the vestry behind him and, after a moment of staring at it, made her way to the desk and pulled the surveyor book from the drawer.
It took time to record all of the activities of the day. The village had worked very hard indeed, and they deserved every last farthing they had received.
She blew softly on the last page of her entry, noting how the sun was creeping down on the horizon, leaving a warm glow around the furniture in the room. It was time to head back to Granchurch House.
She shut the book and placed it carefully in its place and then left the vestry, pausing for a moment to stare at the stained glass that filled the large windows on the west side of the nave. They were bursting with even more color than usual as the setting sun shone through them, painting the large room with long columns of rainbow-colored light. It was a beautiful ending to a beautiful and exhausting day.
She glanced down at the filthy hem of her dress as she opened the door that led to the outside of the church and then collided with something solid.
Mr. Derrick, slightly breathless, stood before her.
They steadied one another, both putting a hand on the other’s arm, a coincidence which brought large, sheepish smiles to their faces.
“I apologize, Miss Paige,” he said, leaving his hand on her arm. “I was wondering if you would still be here—hoping for your sake that you would already be on your way to Granchurch, but hoping for my sake that perhaps I could walk you there myself before Burke and your brother arrive.”
She suddenly felt short of breath and nodded. “I should like that.”
Seeming to realize that his hand still held her arm, he removed it and offered his arm to her. His hair was still damp, and she could smell the soap he had used to wash up with at the parsonage. They made their way toward the small lane that led to Granchurch House, surrounded by the glowing colors of the setting sun, which were even more vibrant than she had anticipated.
“Well,” Mr. Derrick said, “you have won the hearts of the village, Miss Paige. Even the irascible Mrs. Green is very taken with you, not that it surprises me in the least.”
She glanced up at him, but he was looking forward. “I suspect that Mrs. Green is one of those souls who feels compelled to hide her excessively soft heart behind a steel exterior.”
He chuckled and nodded. “You are quite right. She has a heart of gold but takes extreme caution before letting anyone see or experience it.”
They had nearly reached the top of the hill to Granchurch, and Georgiana tugged at his arm, bringing them around to admire the sunset that provided a backdrop for the village so vivid that it stopped her breath in her chest.
She felt the vicar’s eyes on her and chanced a glance at him. He was clean and fresh, and the orange glow of the sunset reflected in his dark eyes as he looked down at her in a way that made her forget how to breathe.
She suppressed a smile and turned her head away, imagining what she must look like in that moment. “I suddenly feel acutely aware of just how covered in dirt I am. It is very kind of you to walk with me in such a state—and to allow me to take your arm.” She raised her arm from his and noted the line of dust on his black coat that evidenced where her arm had been. She clenched her teeth together, conscience-stricken. “I am not fit to be seen.”
He let out a breathy chuckle, shifting so that he was turned toward her. “And here I had been thinking that you had never looked quite so beautiful as you do now”— he reached a hand to her cheek, a half-smile on his face, and rubbed softly at it —“covered quite perfectly in evidence of the generous heart you possess.”
Her breath caught in her chest at the feel of his warm fingers on her face, and she felt a contradictory chill run through her, as if her body had become aware of just how cold it was everywhere but where his hand rested.
She tried to laugh off his words, but the laugh came out as shaky as her knees felt. “You would love anything covered in Rushbury dirt.” She looked at him, and the mischievous smile she wore immediately melted at the sight of his amused one.
“I am partial to it,” he said, giving a final rub to her cheek before letting his hand drop down.
Her cheek tingled where it had been, and she took in a steadying breath.
He searched her eyes, a look of bafflement in his own. “I can think of no woman in your position who would do what you did today. Each time we meet, you amaze me.”
She tried to control her breathing and managed a smile amidst her fluttering nerves. “We London folk are not so terrible as you think, Mr. Derrick.” She glanced down at the village below, at the rooftops and doorways of families she could name and describe. “But I have come to love Rushbury and its people.”
She looked at him again, wondering if he knew what lay hidden in those words—if he knew just how much she had come to love one person in particular. “For the first time in a very long time, I feel like I belong.” She laughed and shook her head. “I imagine that must sound silly, for I have been here just a few short weeks, but….” She took in a breath and shrugged. “Rushbury feels like home.”
He moved closer to her, taking her fingers and holding them in his hand. He brought her hand—encased in a dirt-covered glove—to his lips and kissed it, closing his eyes as he did so. “You do belong here, Georgiana.”
At the sound of her name, a thrill burst inside her; a hope no longer able to be contained.
He looked down at her with a half-smile that made her legs feel weak. “From the moment I met you,” he said, “I have known that you would change Rushbury.” His smile grew. “At first, I thought you my foe—a cursedly beautiful foe, but a foe nonetheless—and one who was determined to conquer this little village.” He reached a hand back to her cheek, cupping it in his hand and making her heart race so quickly she could barely hear above its pounding. “I little knew how quickly you would come to be my greatest ally—or how swiftly and completely you would conquer my heart.”
She shut her eyes, reveling in his words. They felt too good to be true—like the realization of a million hopes she had been fighting off for years.
“And I little realized,” she said, sighing and returning his gaze, “how the person my heart had given up hoping for would be found in a small, Yorkshire village, protected and preserved
by a dozen little roads too dangerous for any but the most hardy of travelers.”
He threw his head back, and she delighted in the sound of his laugh. It was a sound she could never tire of.
When he brought his head back down, his gaze moved to her lips for a moment before he shut his eyes and then turned to look back toward the parsonage and the church. “I imagine Burke is waiting for me already at the parsonage.”
“He said that he would be late, did he not?” she said, feeling bold enough to set a hand on his arm and pull him nearer. “And besides, my brother is notoriously late. If he asks for an hour, one must count on one and a half, at least.”
Mr. Derrick smiled, looking intrigued, and his eyes moved down to her lips again, his chest rising and falling more heavily. The scent of almond soap filled the air between them, and she felt herself move closer to him as if her body was moving of its own accord.
A door closed and footsteps sounded somewhere behind Georgiana. “That will be Archie,” she said, listening as the footsteps grew louder. She sighed, moving away from the vicar reluctantly. “Prompt for the first time in his life, I think.”
Mr. Derrick took her hand in his, placing it between them so that no one looking on would be the wiser. “May we continue this conversation tomorrow?”
Georgiana nodded, holding his eyes as if she might will him to understand everything that hadn’t yet been said. But there would be tomorrow. And many tomorrows after that, she dearly hoped.
“Derrick!” Archie said, jogging up to them.
Mr. Derrick dropped Georgiana’s hand, his eyes lingering conspiratorially on hers for a moment before he turned to Archie.
“Shall we?” Archie said, glancing at Georgiana and then at the vicar.
Mr. Derrick held her eyes a moment longer, the promise of tomorrow’s conversation burning in them, then turned toward Archie and nodded.
Georgiana watched them walk off down the hill as dusk lay its blue blanket over the countryside. Her heart skipped two beats when Mr. Derrick turned to look over his shoulder at her midway down the hill. She couldn’t be sure, but it seemed that he wished as much as she did that they could choose to spend the evening together as easily as Archie had arranged for them to do.
But at least there was tomorrow.
She sighed in mixed contentment and longing and turned toward Granchurch House.
Chapter 16
Samuel thought he might have given his right arm to be able to continue with Georgiana as they had been. It was all he could do to keep his voice calm and his responses sensible as he spoke to Archie when exhilaration was coursing through him from his conversation with her. The feel of her warm cheek under his hand, the tingle of anticipating their lips meeting.…
But it would have to wait. He hardly knew how he could stand the promise of what the morrow would hold.
He rolled his shoulders, forcing himself to focus on the conversation at hand.
Archie Paige was extremely personable and easy to talk to, but it didn’t take long for Samuel to see how he had come to find himself obliged to “rusticate,” as he referred to it. He had very little of Georgiana’s responsibility and far too much spirit to stay out of the scrapes of which London provided more than enough.
Once they arrived at the parsonage and were joined by Burke, Archie drank freely from the bottle that Samuel’s maid had placed upon the table, which only led to his cheerfully dominating the conversation.
“…And that is how I come to find myself here with you amiable chaps,” Archie said with a grin, pouring himself another glass of brandy and kindly refilling the nearly full glasses of Samuel and Burke—both of whom had only taken a few small sips since they had begun.
“I imagine your sister and aunt are thrilled to have your company,” said Burke, discarding from his hand.
“Well,” Archie said, peering at his cards through narrowed eyes and the slightest swaying of his head, “I told Georgie she was mad to come all this way, but she was determined.”
“Why?” Samuel couldn’t keep from asking. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the good fortune that had brought Georgiana Paige into his life.
Archie and Burke both looked at him curiously, and he shrugged. “I am simply curious why she should choose Rushbury of all places, when she undoubtedly could have visited friends or family somewhere less remote.”
“Ah,” Archie said, resting an elbow on the table and pointing at Samuel. “But there was no fortune to be had in such places.”
Samuel frowned. “What do you mean?”
Archie laughed and tossed a card onto the pile. “Georgie hopes to gain the favor of Aunt Sara, since Aunt Sara can leave Granchurch and her money where she will.”
Samuel’s hands paused in the act of rearranging his cards. His eyes met Burke’s.
“Is she in need of a fortune?” Burke asked.
“Isn’t everyone?” Archie said with a lopsided smile. “I have considered trying to beat her out for it.” He laughed and took another large gulp from his glass.
Samuel forced a smile, but his muscles were tight, his stomach clenched. Could it truly be money that had brought Georgiana to Rushbury? Of course, Archie’s words were true to an extent: one had to be practical, and everyone needed a way to support their life. It didn’t change what he knew about her and what he had witnessed of her character.
But it didn’t sit entirely well with him. Perhaps he had idealized her too much and that was why the possibility that it had been pure self-interest that had brought her to his village bothered him.
Or perhaps Archie was simply wrong and his tongue so loosened by drink as to be unreliable. If forced to choose between believing idle words and his own personal knowledge of Georgiana, he would certainly choose the latter.
The morning crept by at a snail’s pace, and Georgiana found herself wondering yet again when she would have the opportunity to speak with Mr. Derrick.
With Samuel.
He had called her by her Christian name. She would call him by his.
They had agreed that they would continue their conversation that day, but they hadn’t made any arrangements for how that might be made to happen.
However they managed to find one another, it wouldn’t happen until the afternoon, she imagined. So she tried to while away the hours of the morning by writing a letter to Daphne and then walking the grounds of Granchurch. She smiled as she spotted a patch of celandine, thinking back on their walk to the meadow. If she could have chosen a place for them to continue their conversation, it would have been there.
The weather was warming, and Georgiana couldn’t think of a more hopeful spring than this one. New life was everywhere—in the leafy tree branches, in the musical chirping of birds, in the budding of new and colorful flowers, and in the delightful bleating of new lambs in Rushbury’s fields. But nothing filled her with more hope than the prospect of her own life and what it might hold.
She had come to Rushbury ready to lay to rest the idea of marriage and companionship—to embrace life as a spinster. Never had she considered that her life might find rebirth there—in the harsh and somber Yorkshire landscape where she had arrived.
Stepping back into the house, she pulled off her bonnet and set it on the entry hall table, making her way to the breakfast parlor. To her surprise, Archie entered shortly after her. Quelling a desire to ask him a dozen questions about his evening with Mr. Burke and the vicar, she settled for asking him how he was doing.
He winced as his fork clanged against his plate. “I’ve got a headache.”
She smiled sympathetically. Archie was not known for his temperance. “Yes, I suspected you might, which makes it all the more surprising to find you here at this early hour. I imagined you would be in bed until much later.”
“Well,” he said, taking a gulp of black coffee and grimacing, “apparently it is not only the dinner hour that is pushed early in the countryside. In Rushbury, it seems that everything ends hours earlier than it does i
n London, including a game of cards. I was home by midnight.”
She smiled. She wasn’t surprised to hear that Samuel did not stay up till all hours of the night, particularly after the strenuous day they had all had yesterday. “Not everyone has your appetite for entertainment, Archie. I imagine the entire village slept quite soundly after their hard work.”
Archie frowned and set down his cup of coffee with a noncommittal grunt. He leaned back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest. “Do you know everyone in the village, Georgie?”
She tilted her head from one side to the other. “Nearly, I think. Some better than others, though.”
He nodded, his eyes still narrowed in thought. “Who lives in the house with the extra tall chimney stack?”
Georgiana pictured the village in her mind. “The third house? On the north side?”
“Yes, I think that’s the one.”
She stirred her tea and nodded. “That would be John and Mary Reed. Why do you ask?”
Archie shook his head. “Just curious, that’s all.”
“How long do you intend to stay at Granchurch?” Georgiana had expected that a couple of days there would have been more than enough to give Archie a distaste for the place, but he hadn’t communicated any plans to leave yet.
He shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet. Burke and Derrick are pleasant fellows and don’t seem to mind playing for penny points, and that’s all I can manage until quarter day comes.”
The thought of simply refraining from cards was unthinkable to Archie. Georgiana was pleased, though, to know that her brother had taken a liking to the vicar.
There had been two thoughts lurking behind her contentment and joy since those precious moments with the vicar. One was a slight nervousness that her family would not approve of her marrying a country vicar.
The other was the unwelcome fear that the entire situation was simply too good and wonderful to be true, and that it might all come crashing down around her at any given moment—that the vicar would realize his error and realize that she was not, in fact, worthy of his attentions. Eight years of being overlooked had not given Georgiana confidence in herself, and she knew the smallest desire to run away before her heart could be broken, before Samuel could realize what had been obvious to everyone in London: Georgiana was not meant for marriage.
