by Lori Wick
“It’s not that, Mari,” she whispered. “It’s thinking how much more painful it must have been to hear my brother’s offer and have at least a small portion of your heart wanting to say yes.”
Marianne found it to be the sweetest thing on earth to have Lydia understand. They kept talking as they made a full circle in the garden, and when they arrived back at Marianne’s basket, Lydia hugged her again.
“I’ve got to get back. Jennings was called away to London, so we’re back to seven children at Tipton.”
Marianne thanked her for coming and walked her to her carriage, but in the back of her mind was another word of thanks, this time to God that she wouldn’t have to face Jennings just yet. Sunday was two days away, and she hadn’t been looking forward to it at all.
London
“How do you explain the bruises on the child in question?” Judge Harris asked, spearing Mrs Smith with his eyes.
“I saw no bruises,” she said innocently.
“No, I don’t suppose you did.” The judge’s voice was cold, and some of the confidence left Mrs Smith’s face.
Tense and silent, Jennings watched the proceedings, hoping the judge would not forget to call Megan for her testimony. The older man seemed distracted, and Jennings could not gauge how this ordeal would turn out.
“Where is the child?” the judge asked, and Jennings inwardly groaned.
“She is staying with my sister,” Jennings answered, hoping the judge remembered him.
“But you have a witness, do you not, Mr Jennings?”
Jennings could have sagged with relief.
“I do, sir. Miss Megan Cornell.”
“Approach,” the judge said when Megan came to her feet.
Staying very businesslike, the judge questioned Megan, or at least began to question her. Not five minutes passed before there was a commotion at the back of the room. Nearly all heads turned, and when the noise escalated, the judge demanded an explanation.
A finely dressed and extremely confidant man stepped forward. He made just one statement, but it was enough to stop the judge’s interview with Megan and to make Jennings’ blood boil with rage.
Thornton Hall
“The children are where?” Jennings asked Mr Collins in disbelief, as though he’d not understood him the first time.
The staff had not seen this aloof side of Jennings for many weeks, but Mr Collins still answered with his usual calm.
“The children are on an outing with Miss Walker. Shall I send for them, sir?”
“Do you know where they went?” Jennings asked, working to calm the emotions inside of him.
“They are on foot and ventured off from the gardens.”
Prior to being turned down by Marianne, Jennings would have thought nothing of this, but this, along with the events in London, put Jennings in a mood most foul.
“I’ll go look for them myself,” Jennings finally retorted, sounding none too happy about the prospect and moving to the stairs with plans to change from his traveling suit. He stopped just a few steps up. “Why aren’t they at my sister’s?” he demanded, having just realized what was wrong.
“The children at Tipton have fallen ill, sir—summer colds. Your sister did not want Thomas, James, and Penny exposed.”
This was calming news. At the mention of Marianne Walker, Jennings’ imagination had run in several directions. It was good to know that he’d been far off the mark in each and every case. An hour later, however, when he had changed and was walking along the path and found them at a distance, some of his earlier misgivings returned.
Was this woman filling in for Lydia in hopes that he would ask for her hand once again? Had she changed her mind for some reason? Jennings nearly shook his head at his whirling thoughts. He had no reason to think any of those things, but Palmer was right: His pride was sticking out a mile over this.
With this thought, Jennings slowed his pace. From a distance he observed the foursome as they stood under a tree. They were discussing something in Penny’s hand. As he watched, Penny started and dropped whatever she’d been holding. Marianne and the boys laughed as James bent to pick it up.
“Did it tickle?” Jennings heard Marianne ask as he neared.
“No, but I thought he might bite.”
“Maybe it’s a she,” James suggested.
“Well then, you’d only get bit if she heard you,” Marianne said quietly, and the children laughed.
“Hello!” James said, the first to spot Jennings as he neared.
“Hello,” he replied, his voice sounding reserved even to his own ears.
The children began to talk to him, but Marianne’s face flushed and then paled. She remained in the background and didn’t speak until all was quiet. Because she didn’t look at Jennings, she wasn’t sure if he was looking at her, but the children suddenly were. Her glance included them all.
“Well, I’d best be off.”
“Must you?” James began, but Marianne was already moving toward the path.
“Thank you for coming out with me, children,” she said before adding quietly, “Welcome back, Mr Jennings.”
The four of them were silent as they watched Marianne walk swiftly away, but it didn’t last long before Penny spoke her mind.
“Did you send Marianne away?” she asked.
Jennings turned and looked down at the sad face staring up at him.
No, I didn’t, Penny, he answered silently, but neither did I welcome her.
“Maybe she had other plans,” Jennings suggested.
“No,” Thomas inserted. “She was free all day.”
Jennings was at a complete loss. The children seemed out of resources with Marianne gone, and Jennings was swamped with doubt over the way he’d treated Miss Walker. The tall man cast about, his eyes looking around for something to do, when he spotted a bug.
“You were looking at something when I came up. What was it?”
“A caterpillar,” James told him, his eyes still looking down the path from time to time. Marianne was out of sight, but he must have hoped she would return.
“What color was it?”
The question worked for a time. They walked the path a bit longer and even found a few more bugs, but it didn’t take long for Jennings to see that the children were not having the fun they’d had with Marianne. No one complained when Jennings suggested that they head back to Thornton Hall or when he closeted himself in his study. Just fifteen minutes later he sent a servant to Tipton, missive in hand.
“How are the children?” Jennings remembered to ask Palmer much later that day, even when he was eager to say what was weighing most heavily on his mind.
“Still down. Everyone has a raw throat and little energy.”
“Is Lydia ill?”
“No, but she’s growing tired as well. I’m keeping a close eye on her,” Palmer added, just when he could see that Jennings was going to tell him to do so. “Tell me,” Palmer went on, having witnessed Jennings’ edginess. “How did the trial go?”
“Dreadful. Some smooth-talking solicitor showed up out of nowhere, saying he was there to represent Mrs Smith and the Dashwood family, for whom she’d worked for years. He said there had to be some horrible mistake because the woman had been a wonderful nanny for years. Smith herself managed enough tears to catch the judge’s eye, and the next thing I knew, she was being let off.”
Palmer shook his head. “I wonder who she knew to pull off that little trick.”
“I don’t know, but I wasn’t very happy with the outcome.”
Palmer nodded but didn’t comment further. He knew the trial was not the reason Jennings wished to see him, but he wasn’t going to initiate that conversation.
“I didn’t send for you so we could discuss the trial,” Jennings said. “I have to ask you something.”
“All right.”
“You believe the children to be Christians, do you not, Palmer?”
“I’ve talked specifically to each child, Jenning
s, and, yes, I do.”
“And Miss Walker? You feel she is also, don’t you?”
“Most certainly.”
Jennings leaned forward in his chair. “Do you think the children would be more comfortable around me if I was a Christian? Do you think they feel some sort of barrier or wall because of this faith business?”
Palmer was thoroughly stunned by the question and didn’t bother to hide it. He took a moment to think about his reply and realized he needed answers to some questions first.
“Have you by any chance been reading the Bible, Jennings?”
Jennings came to his feet.
“I’ve tried, Palmer. All the time I was in London I tried, but what kind of God would let Mrs Smith go free? I don’t think I can accept this God of the Bible. He doesn’t make sense.”
“Let me ask you something, Jennings. If you were God, and you could see that Penny was walking along a path that would take her directly past a poisonous snake, might you put a hole in her path to stop her?”
“I might.”
“But then she might break her little ankle. The snake would hear the commotion and slither away without Penny ever knowing he was there, but you would have saved her from a worse fate.”
Jennings stared at Palmer.
“Would you want Penny angry with you forever over something you couldn’t explain but you knew to be for her best?”
Jennings sat back down, his hand to his forehead. His sigh was a mixture of despair and frustration.
“I tell you, Palmer, this is the most humbling thing I’ve ever known.”
“Well, then, we’re getting somewhere.”
Jennings looked at him.
“You see, Jennings, God can’t save men who think they don’t need Him. Humility is where it begins. Your sin will separate you from God, but His forgiveness, if you will accept it, will draw you so close that you’ll never be lost again.”
“And do you think it would change my relationship with the children if I became a Christian?”
Palmer smiled. “I do, Jennings, but you know very well that you can’t do it for them. This is between you and God. No one else.”
Jennings knew that was very true. Tempted as he was to be angry with Pastor Hurst, Jennings knew that he was truly upset with God and his own feelings of inadequacy.
“Try something, Jennings,” Palmer suggested. “When you go to bed tonight, read in the book of Luke. Start at chapter 22 and read to the end of the book. Those passages cover the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. They cover the way He was punished when He hadn’t committed a single wrong. They cover the way He forgave the ones who killed Him.
“The act of His death is the defining event for the Christian. You can’t really understand what God wants of you until you understand the sacrifice His Son made on your behalf. Read it and talk to me about anything that doesn’t make sense.”
“All right,” Jennings agreed. “I’ll read it tonight.”
“Good. I need to get home to Lydia. Come and see me tomorrow if you want to talk.”
“Thank you,” Jennings told Palmer as he stood and walked him to the carriage. Darkness now full in the sky, he stood for a long time on the drive before going in and finding the Bible he’d put away as soon as he arrived back from London.
Chapter Fourteen
“Miss Walker, may I have a word with you?”
Marianne could hardly believe her ears, but she agreed with as much decorum as she could muster and accompanied Mr Jennings toward an open spot in the churchyard. She turned to him as soon as they were alone and looked up.
“I fear that I was rude to you on Friday when I returned from London. You were gracious enough to spend time with the children, and I didn’t thank you.”
“Please do not concern yourself, Mr Jennings. I was only sorry that I interrupted your homecoming.”
“Not at all. Please do not stay away from Thornton Hall. The children were very sorry to see you leave.”
“Thank you. I shall visit again soon.”
“I’ll tell the children to plan on you.”
The couple parted company at that point, but Marianne had all she could do not to gawk at the man. He was warm and gracious, nothing like the cold individual who had come down the path on Friday. Marianne wished she could ask someone about the matter but didn’t know who it could be. Lydia might know, but she was still at home with the children.
Only at that moment did Marianne remember that she had something for Penny. She searched for the Jennings family but could not find them. When her parents located her to tell her of their plans, she was still standing undecided, Penny’s small handkerchief in her hand.
Having done what he knew to be right, Jennings had gathered his own brood and headed for home. His reflection on his treatment of Marianne could not be ignored. She had been on his property with his children, doing him a favor, and he’d treated her as an interloper. He only hoped that she would take him at his word and visit the children. He was not overly comfortable in her presence, but in this matter he would have to put his own feelings aside.
“Are we going to Tipton?” Penny asked, much the way she did every day.
“No, Penny. I think we’d best give them more time.”
“I miss Emma and Lizzy.”
“I know you do.”
“Thomas,” James asked from his seat directly across the carriage, “what did Pastor Hurst mean when he talked about a mother being made by her own child? He said it was a miracle, but I don’t know what he was talking about.”
Jennings didn’t either. He missed that statement altogether, so he listened for Thomas’ answer as well.
“Not just any mother and child, James, but Mary and Jesus. Jesus was there at the creation of man, so He made the woman who gave birth to Him.”
“What do you mean Jesus was there at the creation of man, Thomas?”
This question came from Jennings, silencing everyone in the carriage.
“Well,” Thomas tried after a moment “in Genesis it talks about man being made in our image, and the “our” in that passage means the Trinity.”
“What is the Trinity?”
Thomas opened his mouth but drew a complete blank. He’d heard the word his entire life, but no matter how swiftly his brain scrambled for the answer, he couldn’t find the meaning at the moment.
“I’ll think of it, sir, but right now I can’t remember.”
Jennings nodded and sat back in thoughtful silence. He certainly wished that the family at Tipton was well. He’d had no questions about the Luke chapters even though he’d been surprised by what he read, but if this account from Thomas was true, it was an amazing thought, and he wanted answers.
The children stared at each other and then at Mr Jennings before sitting back as well. As a rule, James did not bring up topics from the Bible in front of Mr Jennings, but he’d been so taken with this statement that he’d forgotten himself. Now he wished he could take it back.
They pulled up in front of Thornton Hall and climbed from the carriage. Not until that moment did they realize that another carriage was behind them. It was far down the driveway but clearly coming their way.
“That’s the Walkers’ carriage.” Thomas was the first to recognize it.
“Is it Marianne?” Penny wished to know, jumping a little in excitement.
“I think it must be. Do you see Mr and Mrs Walker?”
“I can’t tell yet.”
While they discussed this, the carriage drew up and Marianne’s face appeared in the window. The family went toward her.
“Hello,” she greeted them. “I missed you after church, Penny, and I wanted you to have your handkerchief.”
“Thank you. Can you come out?”
“I think not, dear. I’m joining my parents at the Hursts’.”
“Marianne,” Thomas asked swiftly, seeing his chance. “I can’t remember what the Trinity is.”
“Oh, I can tell you, Thomas. T
he Trinity is God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost.”
“That’s right! Thank you,” Thomas said with a smile and began to turn to Jennings.
“And what does that mean exactly?” Jennings asked, having been close enough to see and hear all.
Marianne had not expected a question from Mr Jennings and wished her father were here to speak to him on biblical matters, but she still answered.
“The Trinity is first mentioned in Genesis when God says that man is made in “our” image, “our” being the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It’s God in three distinct persons. The best explanation might be in the first chapter of Mark when Jesus is being baptized. God the Son, Jesus, is standing in the water. The Spirit descends in the form of a dove and lands on Jesus’ shoulder—that’s God the Holy Ghost. Then God the Father speaks from heaven.”
Jennings’ face was so intent on this information that for a moment he said nothing. The children were aware of his demeanor and remained quiet. Marianne didn’t know what to do. She needed to get to the Hursts’, but she did not want to interrupt if Mr Jennings was trying to think.
“And you say that God is in all places at all times?” he finally asked.
“Yes.”
“Which God? The Father, Son, or Spirit?”
“They’re all the same God, Mr Jennings, but with different roles. The Father rules in heaven and is over all. Jesus became God-Man so He could live on earth and die for sins. The Spirit ministers in the hearts of believers.”
“So God the Father doesn’t minister to Christians?”
“Yes, He does, but it’s the Spirit’s unique role to minister to believers through Scripture.”
“How can He do that?”
“Because He’s three in one. He’s Father, Son, and Spirit at all times, everywhere.”
Jennings took another span of time to contemplate this, and Marianne knew she must leave.
“Children,” she said quietly, her eyes mostly on Thomas, “I’ll see you later this week.”
Thomas nodded right away and began to take James and Penny away.
Jennings, his eyes on a distant spot, didn’t notice their departure.
