The Courtship of the Vicar's Daughter (49 page)

“Thank you, Elizabeth. I’m glad I could help.”

“I suppose I should get this over with as soon as possible.”

“I don’t know,” Julia replied uneasily. It was a frightening thought that she had perhaps exerted undue influence over the lives of two young people. “Since you expressed some misgivings, would it hurt to wait at least a couple of weeks, just to be sure?”

“Yes, that makes sense,” Elizabeth sighed.

“I should let you get back to your work. Will you be all right if I leave now?”

The girl smiled. “I feel much better, Mrs. Hollis. God must have sent you here today.”

“Actually, it was your father. But since his steps are ordered by the Lord, we could say both.”

“Papa.” Elizabeth grimaced as they both got to their feet. “He’ll blame this on Jonathan, won’t he?”

“No doubt that will be his first reaction,” Julia admitted. “You’ll just need to remind him that he had misgivings about your relationship with Mr. Treves before Mr. Raleigh ever came here.”

The mention of Mr. Raleigh brought another question to Julia’s mind, but now was not the time to ask it. While Elizabeth had declared that Mr. Raleigh’s having settled temporarily in Gresham had nothing to do with her decision concerning Mr. Treves, she wondered how the girl felt about the young man.

She found that she herself rather liked him, but of course that had nothing to do with whether he should be allowed to court Elizabeth again. She had come across Mr. Raleigh at
Trumbles Tuesday
afternoon, looking worse for the wear. Even though Aleda maintained that the new schoolmaster had to keep on his toes constantly to keep order in the classroom, Mr. Raleigh had not complained when Julia asked how he was faring.

If he has indeed given up his old ways for good, and it’s your will that they be together, please, God, let it be clear to them
was included in Julia’s prayers of late, in addition to,
And if that be the case, please show Andrew as well.

Back at the
Larkspur
, she met postman Mr. Jones at the gate and was pleased to be handed a letter from Philip. She hastened to her bedroom to read it:

Dear Mother, Aleda, and Grace
,

I hope you are all well. One of the boys in our dormitory contracted a fever yesterday, but I have gotten lots of fresh air and exercise, so my health is good. The food is not nearly as good as Mrs. Herrick’s, but the lectures are interesting. I have become friends with a boy named Gabriel Patterson. He writes very good stories, and I will be bringing home a copy of one on the twenty-fourth for Aleda.

Yours affectionately,
Philip

The letter said nothing about how he was coping with living away from home, but it seemed positive enough.
And he’s already made a good friend.
She read it two more times, then put it on her night table, for she knew she would want to read it again before going to bed.

Boys go away to school all the time
, she reminded herself, for a hollow ache had centered itself in her chest.
Many younger than Philip. Besides, he’ll be leaving for university in three years anyway.

It was the way it was, and the way it would be for years to come. If it seemed terribly unnatural, it had to be because she was a neurotic mother who couldn’t let go.

Chapter 29

“Papa doesn’t make us comb our hair,” Edgar whined to Mercy on Friday morning after popping the last piece of sausage into his mouth. His eyes darted over to the head of the table, where their father was busy sopping the egg yolk off his plate with a slice of bread. “Do we have to comb our hair just to go t’school? We’re in a hurry.”

“No,” their father grunted.

“But, Papa,” Mercy protested. “Just look at them.”

Pointing the remaining crust of bread at her, he did not even look over at the two heads of straw-colored hair that stuck out in all directions like hedgehog quills. “Quit tryin’ to make girls out of ’em, Mercy. Now get on—all of you. And don’t forget my tobacco.”

Jack and Edgar left the table immediately and went out the front door with Oram, who would be driving them today. Pressing her lips together, Mercy took her basket from the hook that hung in the kitchen. “We’ve plenty of time,” she grumbled to the two waiting impatiently in the bed of the wagon. “You could have combed your hair ten times and still gotten there early. Why are you in such a hurry?”

“Teacher won’t allow us to play on the merry-go-round at recess,” Jack replied, pulling a sour face. “But we can play on it before school.”

Mercy climbed up into the wagon seat next to Oram, held on to the edge of the seat as the wagon jolted into movement, then turned. “And why won’t he allow it?”

The lightning-quick glances Jack and Edgar exchanged were long enough for them to coordinate identical shrugs of the shoulders.

“Have you been misbehaving again?” Mercy pressed.

“Weren’t just us,” Edgar replied defensively.

Jack nodded. “If you talk during lessons, you have to sit on the steps with teacher at recess.”

“Well, how many people have to sit out during recess?”

Jack shrugged again, but Edgar stared down in concentration at his fingers for a second, then replied, “Four yesterday.”

“But he makes
us
sit every day,” said Jack.

“So that means you
talk
every day, yes?”

The brothers threw accusing looks at each other. “Not as much as
he
does,” Edgar said, only to receive a blow between the shoulder blades from Jack’s fist. Honor compelled him to return the blow and then some, so by the time the horses turned onto Market Lane, both boys were rolling on the boards trading oaths and jabs.

“Stop right here,” Mercy told Oram.

“They ain’t hurtin’ nothin’,” he replied, grinning, but pulled the reins to a stop so that Mercy could step back into the wagon bed and pull Jack and Edgar apart. By the time they reached the schoolhouse she was exhausted and had yet to do her shopping. Her two brothers had obviously not been affected by the rough start to the morning, for they jumped off the wagon and raced toward the school yard, where a half-dozen children were playing on the merry-go-round.

“Your lunch pails!” Mercy called, but they did not turn. She was about to have Oram bring them to Jack and Edgar, but an impulse seized her, and she told Oram to wait in the wagon. Crossing the school yard, she set the lunch pails on the ground near the steps and motioned to Jack that she had put them there. She stared up at the open doorway long enough to gather her courage, for she was aware that in her slightly faded blue gingham she was not dressed appropriately for addressing the schoolmaster. But if she waited until her next trip to town, that would be one more week of Jack and Edgar causing trouble at school.

Taking a deep breath, she mounted the steps. She stopped in the open doorway, unsure if she was required to knock since the door was propped open. Then her eyes caught sight of Mr. Raleigh, seated behind the desk. He was much younger than she had expected—in fact was probably her age. He certainly looked more pitiable than the ogre Jack and Edgar had reported him to be. Both shoulders were slumped forward slightly in a rather dejected posture. His hands were clasped upon the desk in front of him, his eyes were closed, and his lips were moving silently.

Why, he’s praying!
Mercy thought. She was just about to back away when the man’s eyes opened and looked at her.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I didn’t mean to disturb—”

“Please … do come in.” Mr. Raleigh stood. The elegance of his black suit and pearl-colored silk cravat made him appear every bit as elegant as Squire Bartley. He gave her a weary smile that did little to lighten the shadows in his handsome face. “Do you wish to speak with me?”

“If you’re sure it’s no trouble.”

“Not at all. Please come in.”

Mercy walked into the schoolroom for the first time in her life, and Mr. Raleigh, pulling the chair from behind his desk, asked if she would like to have a seat.

“No, thank you.” With great reluctance she introduced herself as Jack and Edgar’s sister. “I have to apologize for their misbehavior, Mr. Raleigh.”

He did not contradict her. “Your brothers aren’t the only ones, Miss Sanders. I blame myself. A teacher should be able to command respect. I haven’t quite figured out how that works, to be honest.”

“Keeping them off the merry-go-round works, doesn’t it?”

“Barely. They have the opportunity to ride it before and after school, so recess is just one portion of their day.”

Timidly, for she knew next to nothing about schooling, she asked, “Should you make them stay off in the mornings too?”

Mr. Raleigh’s tight smile held no mirth. “Punishment is supposed to come
after
the crime, Miss Sanders. There’s always the hope that one will tire of spending recesses sitting on the steps and decide to behave. And it happens occasionally.”

She felt so sorry for the part her family played in adding to the young man’s troubles, especially when it was his first experience teaching. She knew speaking to her father again would do about as much good as speaking to one of Mrs. Brent’s cows. So all she could do was apologize for taking up so much of his time.

“On the contrary, it was a pleasure to meet you,” he replied warmly. “And I do appreciate your concern.”

“I just wish there was something I could do.”

Mr. Raleigh glanced over at the open door, from which the sounds of children at play could be heard along with metallic squeaks made by the merry-go-round. Mercy could see him draw in a deep breath before he looked at her again.

“Are you a believer, Miss Sanders?”

“Why, yes.”

“Then I would appreciate your prayers.”

He escorted her to the door, and she thanked him for his time. As she turned to descend the steps, she glanced across the school yard and spotted her neighbor, Seth Langford, between two elder trees, holding the reins to his horse and a pony as he spoke with Thomas. It was touching how his hand rested on the young shoulder as the boy looked trustingly up at him. She had never witnessed such a display of mutual affection at home, and it struck her to wonder if the lack of such was why her brothers were so fractious. Of course there had to reside
some
love in her father’s heart for his children, but obviously there were degrees to love. Whatever people chose to whisper and speculate about Mr. Langford, Mercy knew two things that were certain—he had a kind heart, as proved by his sending the bolt of cloth to Mrs. Kerns, and he loved his son. What did it matter if he never thanked her for the cake? It had probably slipped his mind with so much to do when he moved in.

Mrs. Brent would have been so pleased to know that such nice people lived in her cottage
, she thought on her way across the school yard. And then it occurred to her that, knowing how close Mrs. Brent had been with the Lord, perhaps He had given her an inkling. Why else would she be content leaving her household treasures to strangers?

Now, if I’ve played my cards right …

Fresh from a fortnight with her family in Sheffield, Octavia Kingston peered through the window of her first-class compartment as the train chugged to a halt at the Shrewsbury station. That a certain face was not conspicuous among the others upon the platform did not put a damper upon her hopes. Thurmond Bartley could not abide crowds and naturally would be waiting somewhere off to the side.
But then, so would Mr. Herrick
. Being a dwarf, he found it difficult to negotiate when surrounded by heads taller than his. If indeed it was Mr. Herrick waiting, then her strategy had failed.

She pressed her lips together and forced that thought from her mind. It
had
to be Thurmond out there.

“It was pleasant chatting with you,” the young woman who had sat across from her said after her husband appeared at the door of the compartment. She had boarded at Buxton with her two little daughters after having spent a week with her family.

“And you, too, my dears,” Mrs. Kingston said after tearing her attention away from the window. She patted both little girls on the tops of their bonnets and smiled at the look of pure affection the young woman and her husband exchanged.
How nice to be missed by someone that badly!