Tenacious Trents 02 - A Perfect Gentleman (21 page)

She gave a quick nod and accepted the cup. As
she blew on it to cool the liquid, Perkins settled himself on the
bed and lifted Mr. Cooper. Miss Cooper placed the cup against her
father’s lips. “Please, Papa. Drink.”

Mr. Cooper’s eyes opened slightly and he
looked at his daughter. With effort he took a few sips before
letting his head fall back again.

“Again, Papa.” A tear leaked out of the
corner of her eye as she begged and then cajoled her father into
taking more sips of tea until the contents were gone. Matthew stood
at the end of the bed, grasping the post, his fingers aching from
the tight grip with each swallow the man took. This was a good
sign. It had to be. The man would recover and Miss Cooper would not
be left alone. Matthew couldn’t allow himself to think it would be
any other way.

Slowly Perkins lowered Mr. Cooper back
against his pillows and adjusted the blanket and Miss Cooper leaned
back in her chair and sighed before she glanced up at Matthew with
a watery smile.

“He will probably rest for some time now,”
Matthew found himself saying. Even though he had very little
experience with the sick, he did know that after expending any
energy, even just drinking from a cup held to ones lips, left the
patient exhausted and they usually slept for a few hours.

“I am just grateful he woke for a short time
and drank.” A soft smile came to Miss Cooper’s lips. “Papa will be
fine now.”

Matthew wasn’t so certain that was the case,
and he argued with himself of whether he should urge caution and in
the end held his tongue. He would not take this small bit of peace
from her. If her father suffered a setback, he would be there to
help and support her.

Grace closed her eyes and relaxed. Her father
had awakened and he drank. She had to believe all was well and he
would get better now. It would take time, but he would heal. Thank
you, she whispered in her mind. Thank you, God for taking care of
him.

The clock down the hall chimed and Grace
counted each until it stopped after eight. Already the morning was
well on its way and she had done nothing but sleep and sit by her
father. But what else could she do? He was her first priority.
There were things she should see to but she couldn’t even think
what they would be right now. All she wanted to do was sleep, rest
while her father did, so she was alert when he was.

Someone tapped her shoulder and Grace opened
her eyes. Vicar Trent held a steaming cup of tea before her.
Perhaps she would be able to think clearer once she drank. She
inhaled the aroma and placed the cup to her lip and let the warmth
sooth her.

“What of the animals, Miss Cooper?”

Grace looked to Perkins. What was he talking
about?

Oh, dear. She straightened and placed her cup
on the bedside table. “The cows should have been milked two hours
ago. How could I have forgotten?”

“I could send for someone,” Perkins
offered.

“There isn’t time.” Grace stood and moved
from the room. “Call me if Father wakens.” Without bothering to
stop and put on proper shoes or don a cloak, Grace rushed out of
the back of the house and practically ran toward the barn. Low
mooing could be heard from inside. The cows were probably in pain,
waiting to be relieved of their burden. She flung the door open and
grabbed the first milk pail. “I am so sorry. I will get to each of
you as quickly as I can.”

Grace picked up the stool and placed it
beside the first cow, sank down onto it and put the pail in place.
A moment later squirts of milk were heard hitting the bottom of the
tin bucket.

“Is there anything I could do?”

She glanced up to find Vicar Trent standing
in the door. “Have you ever milked a cow?”

He shrugged. “No. Is it difficult?”

It wasn’t really but did she have time to
show him? Grace glanced down the line of cows. It would be quicker
to teach Vicar Trent than to milk all of the cows herself. “Come
here.” She didn’t mean to sound harsh, but she was in a hurry. She
wanted to be done with this chore so that she could return to her
father.

Grace stood and indicated for Vicar Trent to
take a seat. He rubbed his hands together and reached forward but
stopped. For the first time in longer than she could remember,
Grace felt like smiling, almost giggling. Vicar Trent, the
self-assured, composed gentleman that she had come to admire looked
as helpless as a child.

“Gently wrap your hands around two teats, but
not two that are side by side.”

Vicar Trent seemed to hesitate for a moment
before he reached forward. He grabbed and the cow mooed. Just as
quickly he let go.

“Gently, but firmly.”

“I don’t want to hurt her.”

“She is probably in more pain full of milk
than anything else.”

He took a deep breath, leaned forward and
grasped again. At least the cow didn’t make any objectionable
sounds this time.

“Now, squeeze, starting at the top of the
teat and work your way down, moving the milk out of the udder and
into the pail.”

Vicar Trent did so with one teat and then the
other. Milk splashed into the pail. He looked up over his shoulder
and grinned at her. Grace tried not to laugh. It really was such a
simple chore and she had forgotten the joy she felt when she milked
her first cow. Silly of course, but it added an odd sense of
accomplishment.

“Keep a firm hold so the milk doesn’t flow
back into the udder.”

Vicar Trent returned his attention to the cow
and continued to milk, going a bit faster each time. “How will I
know when it is empty?”

Grace giggled. She wasn’t sure the cow was
ever empty. As soon as the milking was complete didn’t the udder
start filling once again? She simply assumed they did. “The teat
will become small, and almost look empty. When that happens, move
to the other two until they are all the same.”

He gave a quick nod and went back to work.
Grace grabbed a second stool and pail and settled at the side of
the next cow. Soon all that could be heard was milk splashing into
pails as they milked one cow and then the next until all had been
taken care of. When they were finished, Vicar Trent glanced over at
the rows of milk, hands fisted on his hips and a silly grin on his
face.

“I’ll be back in a moment.”

Matthew couldn’t believe he had just milked
cows. It was simple, easy, yet necessary. For the first time in a
very long time he felt as if he had done something good, helpful,
that made a difference. Why didn’t his vocation give him this same
sense of accomplishment? As a vicar he should feel it more often,
yet it was a row of cows that gave him a purpose.

Perhaps it was because he could see the work
he had done. As a vicar, you never knew if you reached someone or
not. Did they walk away from his sermons as empty as they had
arrived? Did he utter some profound words that stayed with a
parishioner for a week, until the next sermon? Did he ever inspire
anyone to be better for the Lord?

Matthew turned and thrust his fingers through
his hair. That was just it. He would never know. Each Sunday would
end with him wondering if he had touched or moved anyone that day.
And, should it matter. He wasn’t a vicar for praise or recognition.
He was to save souls, as simple as that.

He looked at the pails of milk neatly lined
up waiting for delivery. Yet, it felt so good to actually see what
one had accomplished.

The minutes ticked by yet Miss Cooper had not
returned. Where could she have gone? He stepped outside and looked
around. She wasn’t anywhere to be found. Perhaps she was checking
on her father. Matthew made his way toward the house. Had something
happened while she was out here and that was why she hadn’t
returned? She wouldn’t just leave the milk sit there would she.

There was silence when he entered the house
and Matthew slowly walked to her father’s bedchamber. He was asleep
in his bed and there was a bit more color in his cheeks. Without
realizing he had been holding his breath, Matthew let out a sigh of
relief. Perkins glanced up at him from a chair in the corner where
he sat.

“Have you seen Miss Cooper?” Matthew
asked.

“No. She hasn’t been in since she practically
ran out of here.”

“How is Mr. Cooper?”

“Resting.”

Matthew nodded his head and left the room. He
could tell Mr. Cooper was resting but since Perkins offered nothing
further Matthew assumed nothing had happened in his absence. But,
where was Miss Cooper?

He wandered around the lower portion of the
house but she was not here. At the foot of the stairs he glanced
up. Had she gone to her room to change? The young woman had bolted
out of bed, after sleeping in her clothing, without bothering to
change her dress or repair her hair. Not that Matthew minded. He
rather liked her disheveled look. It was more honest in appearance
than those ladies who spent hours at their toilette to achieve the
proper look. And, if she was up there, he certainly could not go up
and check on her. That would be highly improper. It was bad enough
that he had carried her upstairs last night and tucked her into
bed. But nobody would ever learn of that or she would be
ruined.

Instead, Matthew simply decided to wait and
returned to Mr. Cooper’s chamber where he poured himself a cup of
tea. Surely he would hear her on the stairs when she came down. He
took the seat beside the window and sipped on the lukewarm liquid.
A moment later he spied Miss Cooper hurrying toward the barn.
Behind her a young boy drove a wagon. “Of course.”

“Pardon?”

Matthew glanced to Perkins and shook his head
in dismissal. He placed the near empty cup on the table and left
before making his way toward the barn. He arrived just in time to
help Miss Cooper place the last of the pails into the wagon. She
disappeared into the barn again and returned a moment later wearing
long work gloves and carrying two large baskets.

Matthew glanced down at them and then back to
her.

“Eggs,” she answered and marched off toward
the coops.

The young boy stood watching; holding the
horses and Matthew followed Miss Cooper. Squawking could be heard
from within as he approached and entered the small structure.
Feathers flew, wings fluttered and Miss Cooper spoke low.

“I need these and you can lay more
tomorrow.”

Hens pecked at her but the gloves protected
her tender skin. Miss Cooper moved from one chicken to the next,
reaching underneath and taking eggs and putting them in the basket.
She had not even gathered half of them but it certainly looked
easier that milking a cow. Starting at the opposite end, Matthew
began gathering eggs to help her. The first nest was empty and he
took two eggs before taking one of the baskets from Grace and
putting them inside. The next nest proved to be more difficult. The
chicken was not about to give up her eggs without a fight. Matthew
jerked his arm back as the sharp edge of her beak tore into the
skin on his forearm. He hastily rolled down his sleeves wishing he
also had his jacket. Sometime in the middle of the night he had
removed it, leaving it in Mr. Cooper’s bedroom. It never occurred
to him to even put it on this morning. His cravat and waistcoat
were long gone as well. He probably looked as disheveled as Miss
Cooper.

He attempted to gather eggs from three more
hens and was rewarded with more bites and tears in his once white
shirt that was quickly becoming stained with his blood. At the risk
of losing a finger, he gathered from the nests currently vacated by
their owners and Miss Cooper efficiently collected eggs from
beneath protective chickens. He stood at the door watching those
vicious animals while holding a full basket as she filled another.
They looked innocent enough but after today, Matthew would take joy
each time he ate a hen or chicken for dinner. He wasn’t even sure
if they were hens or chickens. There was a difference but he wasn’t
really sure what it was and at the moment, he didn’t care. He
wanted to leave the smelly coup and dream about the next drumstick
or thigh he dined on.