The Merchant and the Clergyman (15 page)

By the time he reached her side, she had
reverted to a look of misery rather than anger. He wished she could
hold on to fury. She said, “I’m sorry,”

“You have no reason to apologize.”

“I insulted you, my dear Mr. Fletcher, who
does not care about such things as wealth and position. My mind is
such a muddle. I wish the wedding were done and I could just start
my new life.”

He let her talk and walk and didn’t attempt
to guide her again. At last she seemed to be back to her usual calm
self. “I expect every bride has such worries,” she said. “I should
forget that this nonsensical episode ever took place.”

“Listen to your heart.” He didn’t trust
himself to say anything more than that platitude.

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “My
heart is a mystery even to myself at the moment. I’m late for a
last fitting for the dress I’m to wear tonight, if you can believe
that we are still doing such a thing so late! I have so many
gowns.” Her laugh sounded false. “I shall see you later or
tomorrow.” For a moment, a shadow passed over her face, but she
waved and trotted down the path, away from him and the
churchyard.

By the time he returned to the church, the
ladies were in the church vestibule, discussing who would run the
tea tent. They greeted him with a cup of bad tea and a scolding
about his laziness, then returned to business. The proceeds of the
fete would help raise money for the roof repairs.

During the meeting, it was easy enough to let
forceful Mrs. Moore and her brigade make all the decisions about
booth placement, harvest displays, and entertainment for the event.
His presence at the meeting was merely a formality. The ladies’
chatter washed over him, and he supplied murmurs of agreement at
the appropriate spots and delivered the prayer of blessing on the
endeavor, which ended the meeting.

James left the church building while the
women were still picking over assignments and talking of the
wedding he did not wish to hear about. He started back toward his
house, intent on working on the brief sermon he would deliver at
Darnley’s nuptials, wondering why Kip remained so insistent he
conduct the service. Some sort of revenge, he supposed. Waving his
happiness in James’s face. When he glanced up from his path, the
sun rose for a second time that morning as Declan Shaw approached
him across the churchyard.

James wanted to rush toward the man and throw
his arms around him. He held still and took a steadying breath
while he waited for Declan to reach him, but he couldn’t restrain
his broad smile. “Good morning.”

Declan’s wolfish grin was equally wide. “Good
day to you, Curate. A fine day, isn’t it?”

“Fine indeed.” Feminine voices and footsteps,
the ladies coming out of their meeting, sounded just behind him. He
bit his cheeks to stop the laughter bubbling up inside him.

“May I help you with something, Mr. Shaw?” he
asked loudly enough to be sure the passing Mrs. Moore
overheard.

“Yes. There’s a family matter I’d like to
discuss, if you have the time,” Declan said.

“Certainly. Why don’t you step into my
office?” James swept a hand of formal invitation toward his
house.

Declan nodded and walked ahead of him all the
way to the cottage. The moment the door was closed safely behind
them, he turned and dragged James up against him. He delivered one
searing kiss, their mouths mashing together with nearly painful
strength, before he pulled back and looked James in the eyes. “I
missed you yesterday.” Declan’s voice was hoarse with need.

The words sent skyrockets shooting through
James, and he helplessly spoke the truth. “I missed you too. Very
much.”

“I traveled to Huddersfield to send a few
telegrams I didn’t wish to wire from the village,” Declan
explained. “I gave my mother a warning that my aunt isn’t doing
well and would benefit from a visit home. And I contacted my lawyer
to learn what legal recourse our family has in the matter. Usurping
a husband’s authority over his wife is a tricky business. I still
hope to convince the squire it’ll be worth his while to release her
easily.”

James nodded emphatically without letting go
of Declan. “Of course. I understand.”

“I couldn’t send you a note saying what I was
up to as I was afraid it might be read by the wrong person. I
didn’t count on how long the trip would take, and by the time I
returned, it was far too late to disturb you.”

James continued to nod agreeably. “Very
considerate of you. But Declan…” He lowered his voice to a
seductive murmur. “I honestly wouldn’t have minded if you’d
disturbed me even in the middle of the night.”

“Oh I
wanted
to disturb you, believe
me. It was all I could do to keep from it,” Declan growled, and his
wolfish grin flashed again. “I wanted to disturb you greatly. In
fact…” His hands stroked down James’s back to land on the rear of
his trousers and squeeze. “I’d like to disturb you right now,
sir.”

Unable to contain his joy any longer, James
threw back his head and laughed. “Have at it, then.”

“I’d like nothing better.” Declan grimaced
and moved back. “But I can tell your parishioners are a curious
lot. They’re already wondering what family problems could possibly
bring me here, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if someone
measures the length of time I stay.”

James’s happiness modified from giddy
heedlessness to a more sober contentment. “You’re correct. This
isn’t the time or place to indulge in…” He shrugged. “Any physical
form of pleasure. I shall be content simply to talk with you, then.
Please have a seat.”

He indicated one of the two chairs in his
office. How often he’d sat across from a troubled soul and
basically heard their confession like a Roman Catholic minus the
assignment of prayers to nullify the sin. James tried to gently
lead the unhappy person to a realization of how to solve their
problem without dictating to them. As he sat facing Declan, their
knees nearly touching, he fell into his habitual role.

“What conclusions have you come to about your
aunt’s future?”

The man crossed one long leg over the other,
the toe of his shoe lightly touching James’s leg. “Not expecting an
immediate response from my family lawyer, I stopped by the office
of one in Huddersfield. He reminded me a husband has the right to
treat his wife’s mental illness as he sees fit, so I’ve decided the
best course of action would be to take my aunt on a trip to see my
mother. Once we have her away from my uncle’s influence, we can
extend the visit indefinitely. We’ll have time and resources to
determine how much of her muddled mental state is legitimate and
how much is due to the application of unhelpful ‘remedies.’”

“That seems like a sound plan.” James nodded.
“With her safely in the bosom of her family, it could be quite
difficult for the squire to regain control of her.” He could
scarcely believe he spoke of Darnley that way or imagined him in
the role of villain. All the years of James’s life, Squire Darnley
had been at the center of his community, a fixture to be taken for
granted as much as the sun in the sky. To see him in this new
light, as a possible scoundrel, was like a child learning its
parents weren’t flawless.

“How shall you go about it?” James asked.

“As soon as the wedding is over tomorrow.
I’ll have her packed and in the carriage before telling my uncle.
I’ll say I’m taking her to see my mum, who is ill and desperately
wishes to see her sister—which is true. I’ll give him no time to
manufacture a reason to keep her, to explain she’s too unstable and
needs her routine or what have you.”

“Whisk her away at the last minute. Yes.”
James managed to sound supportive, but inside he howled.
No!
I’ve only just found you. I can’t lose you so soon.
Such
foolish thoughts.

“But enough of that.” Declan uncrossed his
leg and leaned forward to touch James’s knee. “I wanted to tell you
I wish I could stay longer. I don’t
want
to rush away like
this. I’d hoped to prolong my visit to give us more time, but…” He
shrugged.

“You must consider your aunt’s welfare above
all,” James finished. “If she’s being mistreated, she shouldn’t
suffer another day of it. I understand.”

The hand on his knee squeezed lightly. “If I
but had the time… I’d like to learn so much more about you and do
so many things with you. It is only the unfortunate nature of our
circumstances that prevents me.”

“This one day is what we have.” James tried
to keep the disappointment from his voice. “We should make the most
of it. Tell me more about yourself, Declan Shaw. Tell me about your
boyhood, about your travels, about your love of cooking. Tell me
anything, and I will happily listen.”

Declan’s smile made James’s heart beat
faster. “You would. It’s your way to ever be the listener or the
shoulder to cry on. I can see that about you.”

For a moment, James almost told him about
Emily Parker’s worries, but then recalled he mustn’t share. After
all this time alone, having someone suddenly so intimate made him
incautious—and not just with his body.

Declan continued. “But I’d much rather learn
more of you than prattle on about myself. You tell
me
a
story from your past.”

James dipped his head, obliging, but oh so
aware of Declan’s warm palm rubbing his leg and making it difficult
to think about innocent childhood days. “I, er, suppose I was
raised like most village lads, except both of my parents were
well-read and made certain I was exposed to books from a young age.
A bookish boy is not likely to be the most popular among his peers,
but I was saved from bullying by having, I suppose, an agreeable
disposition. Lending a confiding ear does have its rewards, you
see.”

Declan nodded, then frowned. “Except you
were
bullied, weren’t you? By Cousin Kip.”

Bullying? James had hardly considered it such
at the time. Any scrap of attention Kip gave him had seemed a
precious thing.

“That came later, and it wasn’t that simple,”
he began, but decided to change the subject. “I was happy enough as
a child, and I belong here now. I was glad to get this posting,
because my parents lived here. But then six months after I came to
Bishop’s Hartfeld, they decided to move to be near my sister,
closer to the coast, for my father’s health. My sister Grace, now
Mrs. Anstruther, is newly married, and I believe my mother is
hoping to have grandchildren to spoil.”

“And there’s your family in a nutshell.”
Declan sat back, leaving a cold spot on James’s thigh. “But what
about
you
. Tell me a story that gives me insight into the
boy you were and the man you’ve become.”

“I suppose…” He hesitated, wanting to give a
true answer. “All right. I fell in with a group of troublemaking
lads for a very brief time.”

Declan laughed aloud. “You did
not
.”

“I did! I’d become so determined not to be an
outsider any longer that I was willing to do whatever it took to be
part of their group. I was eleven at the time. Old enough to begin
to question my place in the world, and the things my parents had
taught me.”

He chuckled. “And you acted out how exactly?
Tipping an outhouse or a cow?”

James rolled his eyes. “Please! Such things
are child’s play. I was a very reckless and wild boy.”

Eyes gleaming, Declan drawled. “So, what did
you do,
bad
boy?”

“One night, my new friends planned to break
into the home of a pair of dressmaking spinsters and steal from
them. Because I was smaller, the others decided I should be boosted
in through a window and go to the door to let them in.”

“That
is
serious.” Declan sounded
surprised.

“I told you. That evening, I pretended to go
to bed but sneaked out my window. At first, it was thrilling,
simply being out in the night and running with the pack, as it
were. To be truly part of a group was something I’d wished for all
my life. But the nearer we got to our destination, the less excited
I became. Not only was the whole scheme dangerous because we might
get caught, but it was wrong. I felt it in my heart.”

James cocked his head and studied Declan.
“You see the difference? Between
knowing
what’s right and
wrong by rote because that’s what society and one’s parents have
taught you, and for the first time,
feeling
the difference
coming from a place deep within? It’s a fine distinction but…”

Declan nodded. “Yes, I understand.”

“Perhaps that is the voice of one’s soul,”
James mused. “The still small voice guiding you to what is just and
fair and right.”

“So, what happened? I’m sure you didn’t end
up breaking into the house.”

“Actually, I did. As I tried to think of an
excuse to beg off and go home, we’d already arrived, and before I
knew it, the largest boy was boosting me up to a window, which was
wide open. No latches or fear of robbers in our quiet little corner
of the country.”

“But you didn’t let them in.”

“No. I didn’t. Instead, I purposely knocked
over the fire iron stand. The lights came on, and the ladies’
voices, fearful and upset, floated from another room. I had every
excuse to dive back out the window—where not one boy waited to
catch me. They’d fled like rats from a sinking ship. I landed in a
rose bush and was torn up by thorns, not to mention wrenching my
ankle. But as I limped home, I’d learned a valuable lesson about
trust and friendship and leaving one’s windows open at night. I
felt bad about frightening those women, but thought they needed to
be more careful with boys like those roaming around.”

“Did your parents ever find out? How did the
boys treat you at school after that?”

“I was
persona non grata
, booted out
of the pack for my clumsiness. Not that I would’ve spent any more
time with them after that. After a few days of wallowing in guilt,
I told my father everything. I named names, because I couldn’t risk
they’d try again, maybe not with the dressmakers but with someone
else.”