The Courtship of the Vicar's Daughter (77 page)

Julia smiled to herself at how the rest of the lodgers had joined Mr. Ellis’s mission of drawing Mr. Pitney into mealtime conversation.

“It’s very interesting to see how people sign their names,” the archeologist replied in his usual bashful manner.

“I wonder if Mr. Clay’s picture is on the poster?” Aleda asked after receiving permission from Julia to join the discussion.

“Surely it is,” Mrs. Kingston theorized. “After all, he has the lead role.”

Mr. Jensen finally spoke. “I’m afraid it is not.”

Eyes widening with interest, Mrs. Dearing looked across at him. “You have
seen
the poster, Mr. Jensen?”

“Actually, Mrs. Dearing, I have seen
The Barrister
as well. Mrs. Clay was kind enough to send me some tickets.”

Julia had worried that Mr. Jensen would be too set in his ways to drop the deferential “sir” and “madam” from his vocabulary, but he had done so admirably. While he was there to provide for the comfort of the lodgers, it was important for the smooth operation of the house that his not be considered a servile position.

“Well, what
is
on the poster?” Mr. Durwin asked.

After a thoughtful pause, Mr. Jensen replied, “A wig, a gavel, and a toy tin trumpet strewn across the face of a legal brief, if my memory serves me correctly.” He looked at Julia. “The colors are most vibrant and would indeed be quite becoming on display in the hall.”

“A
toy trumpet
,” Mr. Jensen?” Miss Rawlins shook her head. “But what has that to do with courts and such?”

“I’m afraid I am not at liberty to disclose that at this precise moment, Miss Rawlins. It would certainly impede some of Mrs. Hollis’s enjoyment of the play.”

“But you’ll tell us after she and the vicar have left, won’t you?” Mrs. Dearing asked with a conspiratorial glint in her eyes.

Mr. Jensen actually smiled. “As soon as their carriage wheels can no longer be heard, Mrs. Dearing, I shall be privileged to.”

“I’m afraid I was very much the child about losing that tournament,” Vicar Phelps confessed while carving the roast hen in the platter before him. “And congratulating the vicar from Prescott was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But would you care to know what Mrs. Hollis said to me afterward?”

“What was that, sir?” Jonathan asked, keeping his amusement hidden behind an attentive expression. It was obvious that the vicar was anxious about tomorrow, because he had told the same story when Jonathan suppered with them last week.

“She said with her usual frankness, ‘Andrew, you just have to tell yourself that it’s better to be beaten by someone like Vicar Nippert than to allow yourself to
become
someone like Vicar Nippert.’ Wise advice—and to the point, wasn’t it?”

“Very wise, Vicar.” He winked across the table at Elizabeth, who sent him a grateful smile.
Please let me have some time alone with her tonight
, he prayed, knowing that a miracle of God would be the only way it would happen. Though the vicar now allowed them to take an occasional walk, he still did not allow them time alone after dark. Jonathan accepted his right to do so but was so bursting with the news he wanted to share with Elizabeth that he did not think he would sleep tonight if he had to hold it all in until tomorrow.

“Have you finished packing, Andrew?” Mrs. Phelps, the vicar’s mother, asked from her place next to Laurel. Jonathan had met her previously in Cambridge. An energetic woman of about sixty-five, she wore her gray hair gathered back into intricate curls at the crown of her head, and gold earrings dangled like little pear-shaped sapphires whenever she spoke. She would be staying with Elizabeth and Laurel during their father’s honeymoon in London.

Elizabeth had told him during their last walk that when her grandmother arrived three days ago, she was aghast to discover they had dropped the habit of changing their clothes for supper. “Aren’t you carrying this ‘when in Rome’ notion a bit too far?” Mrs. Phelps had demanded, but the vicar had held his ground, telling her that it was a silly custom that would cause too much of a burden on Dora.

Now the vicar angled his head thoughtfully at the most recent question put to him by his mother. “I’ve almost finished. I can’t pack my shaving kit and toothbrush until the morning. But you won’t allow me to forget it, will you, Beth?”

“I’ll remind you, Papa.”

“And what about money?” Laurel asked. “Did you pack that?”

Absently the man patted the shirt over his stomach, where his breastcoat pocket would have been located, had he been wearing one. Meanwhile it appeared unlikely that the hen would be carved before dessert. “Oh yes. It’s upstairs in my bureau. Laurel, please make sure I have that before I leave.”

“What about Mrs. Hollis, Vicar?” Jonathan could not resist teasing. “Should someone remind you to bring her along tomorrow?”

Vicar Phelps chuckled appreciatively and pointed the carving fork at him. “That, Jonathan, can be your responsibility. But somehow I don’t think you’ll have to exercise it.”

“What would you like us to bring you from London?” Julia asked her daughters after reading to them from the fairy tale book. Though she and Andrew planned to shop for Christmas presents while there, she wanted their children to have mementos they could enjoy as soon as they returned. The evening had a poignant quality about it, partly because this would be the last time she would tuck them into bed in the
Larkspur
. It was within these walls that she had fully come to understand what it meant to invest herself in the lives of her children.

“Would a heart-shaped locket be asking for too much?” Aleda asked.

Julia smoothed auburn hair from her daughter’s forehead. “I think that’s a lovely idea.”

Grace had a to think for a minute. “Are there still toy stores there?”

“Certainly there are. What kind of toy would you like?”

“Something that winds up and moves? Like a bear who plays a drum?”

“A windup toy it is.” The faces that stared back at her from their pillows were so sweet and trusting that Julia longed to stay for a little while and smooth their hair and tell them how loved they were. But tomorrow would be a busy day for all of them. “Now remember to obey Mrs. Beemish and Mr. Jensen while I’m gone. And wear your woollies to school every day.”

“And clean our teeth and wash our faces?” Grace supplied helpfully.

Julia smiled. “That would be nice too.”

Philip would have been mortified had she attempted to read to him, but he was willing for her to sit at his bedside for a chat instead of her usual good-night from the doorway. He asked for a set of draughts pieces so that he did not have to improvise with his chessmen whenever he had company. “And we’ll have to leave the other draughts game in the hall anyway, or Mr. Durwin and Mr. Ellis won’t be able to play.”

“Will you miss living here?”

He glanced around the room, resting his head upon the arm propped upon his pillow. “I dreamt of this room a lot when I was away at school. And the hall, and even the kitchen. But I think it was the people I was missing most. You and the girls and everyone else. I don’t think I’ll mind living at the vicarage. And we can visit here anytime we like, right?”

“As long as we’re considerate of the servants and Mr. Jensen,” she replied, resisting the urge to smooth his hair as she had Aleda’s. “The
Larkspur
still belongs to us, Philip.”

“Good.” He lapsed into silence for several seconds, then asked, “You don’t mind marrying Vicar Phelps, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

A line formed between his eyebrows. “You aren’t marrying him just so we can have a father, are you? I mean, I know he’ll be a good father, but you shouldn’t let that be the only reason.”

“I’m marrying him because I love him, Philip. But since you ask … I would never, never marry a man who couldn’t be a good father to my children, no matter how I felt about him.”

“Oh.” He looked relieved. “Then it all works out just fine, doesn’t it?”

She could no longer resist, but he only smiled long-sufferingly while she combed her fingers through his red hair. “Just fine indeed, Philip.”

After supper, Elizabeth and Jonathan played whist with her father and sister at the parlor tea table while her grandmother sat on the sofa perusing a copy of
The Art Journal
. Her father did not rattle on as he had at supper. Either Mrs. Paget’s cooking, Jonathan’s joke, or simply having to devote himself to the strategy of the game had soothed his nerves. Or perhaps a combination of all three.

She and Laurel had discussed thoroughly how it would be to have their family more than double in size and had both concluded that the drawbacks—such as sharing their father’s attention as well as time in the water closet—would be more than compensated for by having a mother and siblings around. Life certainly would not be boring!

And there was another reason Elizabeth was particularly glad—one that she had not felt ready to share with Laurel. She was certain that she would marry Jonathan Raleigh one day. Knowing that she was not drastically cutting down the size of her family would make leaving home easier on her conscience.

During the two weeks since the archery tournament she and Jonathan had taken other walks. Twice Jonathan had proposed, and twice Elizabeth had said she needed more time—not because she did not want to marry him—but because she wanted so much for everything to go right this time. She felt the need to be overly cautious. In the quiet of her room when she sought God’s counsel, He seemed to be telling her that there was still something lacking. She had no idea what it was but had to trust that God would reveal it to her at the proper time.

It was only after her father won the match—a victory they had orchestrated by unspoken agreement as sort of a pre-wedding gift—that Jonathan looked at his watch and whistled softly through his teeth. “I’m sorry. I had no idea it was after ten.”

“You couldn’t very well leave the match, now, could you?” her father asked as he and Laurel gathered the cards. “By the way, I know that you all conspired to let me win.” He grinned at their half-hearted protests and said, “I played as rotten a game as humanly possible to try to thwart your plans, but you were even worse. No wonder it took so long.”

And then he did a curious thing. Looking up at Elizabeth, he said, “Be sure and take your wrap outside and be back in fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes?” Jonathan whispered to her in the vestibule after bidding good evening to her family.