Rebecca Stubbs: The Vicar's Daughter (30 page)

“What a state you are both in!” exclaimed Mr. Thorpe, rather unnecessarily. “Have you fallen amongst thieves?”

“Not thieves, but a rabbit hole,” replied Rev. Hayworth, smiling. “When I was walking Miss Stubbs home, she had the misfortune of stumbling into a rabbit hole and badly spraining her ankle.”

“And he has been my Good Samaritan,” I added, smiling up at him.

“That is good of you, Reverend,” said Mr. Thorpe.

“But, sir, Miss Stubbs is in severe pain and is awfully pale. Do you have any port or the likes that she could drink?” asked Rev. Hayworth.

“Why, of course,” replied Mr. Thorpe, and he disappeared from the kitchen to find some.

When we were alone again, Rev. Hayworth squatted down next to me and asked, “How are you feeling now, Rebecca?”

It was a simple question, but the tenderness of his voice and the fact that he had used my Christian name for the very first time filled my eyes with tears and my heart with love.

“Oh, Jack,” is all I could utter as I squeezed his arm.

Tears ran down my cheeks as I looked into his kind eyes. I noticed a crust of mud on his forehead and carefully rubbed it off, wiping my finger on my skirt. He reciprocated by rubbing a splatter off my cheek and was just opening his mouth to speak when, proud of his speed, Mr. Thorpe entered the kitchen, waving a bottle of port and three glasses. Jack and I both faked admiration for his swiftness, but whereas Jack looked cool and composed, I felt hot and flustered.

“Do take your coat off and join us for a glass,” invited Mr. Thorpe. “Unless, of course, you have signed the pledge.”

“Thank you, I would be glad to join you, and no, I am not a teetotaller and see no reason to begin now.” Jack smiled back, removing his coat and putting it near the stove to dry for the second time that afternoon.

I pointed out a tin on the side containing a rich fruitcake, and after further instructions where to find a knife and plates, we all settled with our refreshments. Mr. Thorpe and Rev. Hayworth were soon busy discussing the strengths and weaknesses of the various Oxford and Cambridge colleges, but although Jack’s conversation was mainly directed at Mr. Thorpe, his eyes often strayed in my direction.

Being unused to strong drink and having been given an over-generous measure by Mr. Thorpe, I soon began to feel drowsy and distant. Despite being close to the roaring stove, I was still cold and shivering. My ankle throbbed more than I cared to admit.

Jack observed my condition and believed I was in a state of shock. “You need to be tucked up in a warm bed,” he said.

The thought of dragging myself out to the closet, then up to bed, especially in my muddy state, seemed almost impossible, and it dawned on me how awkward it was having only gentlemen around. This problem must have gone through Jack’s mind at the same time.

Speaking to Mr. Thorpe, Jack asked, “Is there any local woman we could call upon to help poor Miss Stubbs to get comfortable?”

Mr. Thorpe thought for a minute and then snapped his fingers. “I’ve got just the ticket. I can ask the groom to fetch a carriage to take you home and to fetch a local woman to help Miss Stubbs.”

“I do not need a carriage, only the loan of a lamp,” objected Jack. “By the time you have hitched the horses up, I could be halfway home. It seems a shame to disturb the groom at this hour.”

“
This hour
is only eight o’clock, Reverend, and after all you have done for my housekeeper, it would please me if you accepted my offer.”

“Please do,” I seconded. “It is still pouring out there.”

With that, Jack reluctantly consented. Mr. Thorpe pulled a newly installed bell to summon the groom, and soon all was neatly arranged. Agnes’s mother, Mrs. Brookes, was the nearest neighbour. She, along with Violet, came to see what state I was in, and with much friendly sympathy, they organised hot bricks to warm my bed and opodeldoc lotion for the sprain.

Jack looked relieved at the motherly attention I was getting and bade me good night, promising to visit the next day. Mr. Thorpe, on seeing the flutter of womanly activity, vacated the kitchen, leaving the kind ladies to attend me.

I insisted I could help myself, but Mrs. Brookes brushed aside my efforts. Once standing, I was most grateful for her support, because the room spun around before my eyes. Somehow she helped me to the outside closet and then to ascend the stairs. I was for flopping exhausted into bed, but she dismissed Violet, undressed me like a little child, and washed away all the mud. Finally, as if my arms were affected as well as my ankle, she combed my hair before helping me into my warm and cosy bed. I laid back in utter relief. Then, as I tried to express my gratitude to Mrs. Brookes, I burst into tears.

CHAPTER 37

I HAD A FITFUL NIGHT.
The port sent me to sleep, but the pain in my ankle woke me a few times. When awake I was fully alert, my mind whirling with the events of the evening and the firm realisation that Jack loved me. This knowledge was like a warm cocoon wrapped around my joyful heart—a heart almost bursting with love for Jack and thankfulness to the Lord.

It did not matter that I had hardly slept and that my foot was throbbing, for my new happiness gave me as much energy as hours of undisturbed slumber. I knew what Mrs. Brookes was like and more likely than not, I would now be her “project” until I was well again, so to prevent my being a burden to her, I was determined to get myself up and dressed before she came to help. Out of sheer stubbornness I painfully wrestled my way into my clothes, tidied myself up, and descended the stairs on my bottom. Having accomplished that, I soon discovered that most tasks in the kitchen were nigh impossible, so I had to await the arrival of the kitchen maids before the stove could be stoked and the breakfast preparations commenced.

On seeing my swollen and bruised ankle, the two girls rose to the occasion, promised to do all the work, and packed me off to the housekeeper’s parlour. The gardener kindly cut me two sticks that were a great help in the coming days.

While Clara and Molly busied themselves with the cooking and cleaning, I continued sewing the endless curtain seams. During the morning, Mr. Thorpe visited my parlour to enquire after my well-being, but he could not resist the opportunity to tease.

“The curate could not keep his eyes off you last night.”

I was relieved when he left the house to inspect the crops.

Mid-afternoon the doorbell rang and shortly afterwards, Molly, with a knowing look and a smirk, ushered Jack into my parlour. He had only just sat down when the doorbell rang again and Miss Brinkhill was announced.

My little parlour seemed overcrowded with this third, unwelcome person present. Jack politely vacated the armchair and brought forward the desk chair for himself. When Miss Brinkhill was settled, we all exchanged rather stilted pleasantries. Molly, out of kindness or curiosity, brought in a tray of tea and biscuits. It was a relief to busy myself with the arranging of cups and saucers and the pouring of tea, for a stern silence was radiating off Miss Brinkhill, creating an awkwardness.

After receiving her tea and taking a few polite sips, she broke her silence. “I sympathise with you as regards to your ankle injury, Miss Stubbs.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

“But I am duty-bound to point out that your accident was a judgement.”

“A judgement?” queried Jack.

“Yes, indeed, and out of regard for Miss Stubbs, I felt I should come and reprove her in private, but seeing as you are here too, Reverend, maybe together we can gently point out the error of her ways.”

I was speechless, but Jack said, “Kindly explain,” in such an icy tone that I shivered.

Miss Brinkhill was oblivious to the ice and continued, “Well, it has come to my attention that Miss Stubbs has taken to loitering in the dark with an unknown male.”

I put down my saucer with a clatter, but she went on.

“And indulging in unseemly physical contact.”

I sat forward to offer some incoherent reply, but Jack silenced me by putting his hand on my arm.

My accuser continued, “And, I am sure you will agree, Rev. Hayworth, such behaviour is unbecoming for a church member, and it is up to the likes of you and me to uphold the standards of the church.”

“Yes, indeed it is,” replied Jack fiercely. “And the protection of parishioners from malicious slander and gossip is also my duty, so bearing that in mind, I would like to inform you of a few salient facts, Miss Brinkhill. Firstly, it may interest you to know that it was
I
you saw ‘loitering in the dark’ with Miss Stubbs.”

Miss Brinkhill’s shocked reaction was most satisfactory.

“Furthermore, it was I who had his arms wrapped around her. Let me ask you, Miss Brinkhill, is there anything ‘unseemly’ about helping a friend along the road when she is hurt? Can one not help an injured person in such a situation without the tongues of village gossips wagging?” Here he paused, then said slowly and emphatically, “Especially if the injured person just happens to be the woman you have every intention of marrying?”

Miss Brinkhill’s ramrod body almost leapt out the chair. “Marry? But she is a servant!”

Jack sprang to his feet. “And so am I! I am a servant of the Lord. So we are ideally matched.”

“But she is ignorant!”

Jack was looking so fierce that it was my turn to lay a restraining hand on him. “Then he can teach me,” I said, but this was unheard as Jack answered at the same time.

“Ignorant? Then I am ignorant, for I find Rebecca my equal.”

Because Miss Brinkhill looked so defeated, I had a little sympathy for her.

“Wait until I tell my father,” she threatened as she stood up to leave.

“Yes, please tell him, for we need someone to marry us,” replied Jack, somewhat cheekily.

At that, she flounced, wet eyed, out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Jack sat back in his chair and said, “Phew,” and we both laughed rather nervously. I suddenly felt very shy.

“I am sorry,” said Jack, taking my hand. “That must be the most unromantic marriage proposal in history.”

“But the most exciting,” I offered with a smile.

Then he got down on one knee and said, “My dear Rebecca, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

“I would be delighted,” I replied, and before I knew it and despite my ankle, he had removed me from the armchair, sat himself in it, and had me on his lap.

CHAPTER 38

MOLLY AND CLARA FOUND MY
engagement slightly unfathomable. Their reaction was an amusing mixture of bewilderment and envy as they tried to understand how a spinster housekeeper and a greying minister could possibly fall in love. Romance seemed impossible at the grand age of twenty-one, and courting a curate did not come into their definition of fairy-tale love. But in this they were totally wrong; being in love and engaged to Jack was utterly romantic and exciting.

Mr. Thorpe’s initial reaction to the engagement was to worry that I would leave Biggenden earlier than arranged. Only after he had received my assurance that I would stay until he returned could he give his congratulations, but he was far too busy preparing for his own wedding to be interested in hearing our plans.

The villagers’ reaction was also cool. They could approve of a parson in a monk-like single state, or in a well-established family state, but a preacher on his way from one of these positions to another seemed somehow indecent. And to show any sort of enthusiasm or passion about the journey was positively scandalous. But none of this did anything to detract from our intense enjoyment, and the two months between our engagement and wedding flew by in an exciting whirl.

Mr. Thorpe left Biggenden to get married in early July. The only indication we had that the nuptials had taken place was a package of dried up wedding cake that arrived a week later. Within a fortnight of his departure, the first influx of new staff and crates of Mrs. Thorpe’s possessions arrived.

The new housekeeper was exactly as one could expect, seeing as she had been hand-picked by Mrs. Harrington. She was well into her middle years, broadly set with a determined gait that silently proclaimed “I know best.” She immediately made it abundantly clear that my reign was over, my contribution or ideas were superfluous, and that I was no longer needed. Had I not been so occupied with Jack and wedding preparations, I would have felt hurt and offended; had I not promised Mr. Thorpe to stay until his return, I would have gladly left immediately. But as it was I duly vacated the housekeeper’s parlour and made myself scarce. My reduced role consisted of caring for Rex and lending a listening ear to Clara and Molly as they poured out their frustrations at the regime change.

In fact, thanks to the battle-axe new housekeeper, I had a most relaxing summer ever and was able to spend a great deal of time at the Hayworths’ cottage or enjoying long walks with my fiancé and Rex. Mrs. Hayworth welcomed me into the family with all her generous heart. The Lord had fulfilled His promise of “putting the solitary in families.”

Mrs. Hayworth threw her all into helping us plan the wedding, declaring it was like being the groom’s mother and bride’s mother in one, and she was certainly as organised and productive as two ordinary women. By now her eyesight was so much improved that she telegrammed her ophthalmologist, begging his permission to return to normal activities. His cautious reply stated that a gradual return to normal was recommended. His notion of gradual was probably vastly different from hers, but thankfully she had no ill effects from her exertions. Having fitted herself with a wide-brimmed straw hat, she was out into the summer sunshine and off.

I introduced her to Mrs. Brookes, who became a firm friend and ally in organising the wedding breakfast. Mr. Brookes, in his master’s absence, proposed that the threshing barn be used, and he organised some farm labourers to clean it out. Remembering the cosiness of the harvest supper there, I was very happy with the arrangement and hoped Mr. Thorpe would not feel we were presuming too much on his kindness.

Mrs. Hayworth also started packing her boxes with as much pleasure and enthusiasm as she had only recently unpacked them, for she declared she would now go and live with her daughter, Elisabeth. She had lived with her and her family for many years and only moved in with Jack to have peace and quiet while recovering from her cataract operation. I wondered how busy and chaotic Elisabeth’s household was, if moving parish and house with Jack was considered “peace and quiet”!