The Courtship of the Vicar's Daughter (35 page)

“Certainly,” she sniffed and moved on to the next table. There sat three men with long faces, close enough for Jonathan to overhear their conversation. Not that he was purposely
trying
, but he couldn’t very well stop up his ears.

“Doctor Rhodes says it’s pleurisy all right. She likely had it for a while and didn’t know it until it came upon her so intense late last night.”

“That school in Scotland is to blame. You can’t house people in tombs without expecting their lungs to be affected.”

“What are we going to do? Don’t see how we can find someone to take her place in just six days.”

A collective sigh came from all three as a serving girl brought Jonathan his food. Now he found himself listening on purpose, even though he had no idea who was being discussed and the significance of six days.

“I wonder if Miss Hillock could be persuaded to combine both sections—just until Miss Clark recovers.”

The suggestion was silently considered, but then one man shook his head. He was white-haired and older than the rest and seemed to be the head of what Jonathan now realized was the local school board.

“There would be forty-five students if we combined them—too many for one woman. And I don’t know if Miss Hillock is competent enough in the subject matter of the older sections. She’s been more than able with the younger children, but as you know, she never went to college.”

The three talked on of their problem and considered—and discarded—several suggestions. Meanwhile, a wild idea was beginning to form itself in Jonathan’s mind. If the town was in dire straits and he could possibly offer some assistance, he would have a reason to stay in Gresham.

Extending his leave of absence from his position in Cambridge was no problem. Even though he had his degree, he couldn’t become a solicitor until he had articled himself to a practicing lawyer—in this case his father’s brother—for five years. But they weren’t required to be
consecutive
years, and the firm was already saturated with attorneys. He was aware that his uncle had taken him on only out of family courtesy, yet for him to have applied at any other firm would have offended both his father and uncle. But this …

“I wonder if we should delay school for a month or so?” he heard from the table beside him.

What do you know about teaching?
Jonathan asked himself.

“What about one of the students who graduated last term? That Mayhew boy is bright.”

Graduated last term? Too young
, Jonathan thought.

“Too young,” someone said.

Suddenly it hit Jonathan like a slap in the face that his prayer had been answered after all. Grandfather was a devout man and undoubtedly correct in saying that most of God’s answers took the form of stirrings of the heart. Some, however, apparently took the form of three men having breakfast.
Thank you, Father
. He cleared his throat and turned to the table beside him.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said. “I wonder if I might have a word with you?”

It was not enough that Philip had been forced to carry the tray for Tupper, a hulking figure with teeth as crooked as an old picket fence, but to amuse his friends, the boy wanted his eggs and bacon cut and his toast buttered. From bits and pieces overheard as Philip performed the task, he became aware that his present taskmaster was in the fifth form. Which meant that Tupper had himself been the object of overlording upperclassmen just last year. Philip would have thought that having suffered such treatment would cause a person to be less prone to inflict it upon others, but the older boys seemed to revel in their new authority.

Finally Tupper was too busy forking down breakfast to make sport of him, and Philip was able to get his own tray. He sat down at a third form table next to Gabriel Patterson, who, like the rest of the third form, had carried trays for older students.

“I didn’t think you were going to have time to eat,” Gabriel whispered.

“Me neither,” Philip answered. They were forced to whisper because at the head of the table sat Westbrook, who seemed in an even more vile mood today than yesterday. It seemed wise to take for granted he could silence all conversation at the table with the bark of a command and would do so if they appeared to be enjoying themselves
too
much. “But it isn’t so bad. My father once told me that he used to get caned by his prefect at Rugby.”

“He did?” Gabriel’s face clouded. “I don’t think I would be able to bear it! The mocking about my size is bad enough!”

“I’m sorry” was all Philip could think of to say.

The boy’s bottom lip trembled for a second, but then he shrugged with an obviously forced casualness. “It’s not your fault, Hollis. In fact, if you hadn’t befriended me, I think I would have thrown myself out of a window last night. I’m sorry you had to run around the school.”

Philip leaned closer. “Don’t tell Westbrook, but I’m very fond of running.”

“You are?” Gabriel said with conspiratorial delight.

“Oh, very much.” And he meant that, even if he was saying it mostly to reassure his new friend. But what he didn’t say was that while he indeed enjoyed a good run, there was a profound difference between racing his friends across the village green and skipping lunch to run around a school building.

The thought of Gresham gave him a little stab of homesickness, but he comforted himself by thinking about his upcoming classes.
One can find a bright side to almost any situation if one looks hard enough
, he had heard Mrs. Dearing say at the supper table recently. It was a good bit of advice and worth repeating to himself now and then, given his present situation.

Something flew past his shoulder and hit Lowry, who was seated across from him, squarely in the forehead. The missile turned out to be a crust of well-buttered toast, and it fell to the lapel of the boy’s jacket. It left a greasy smear even after he wiped the spot with a napkin. Philip felt sorry for the boy, who was now staring down at his plate so as not to provoke the thrower into further action, but he didn’t think consolation in the form of Mrs. Dearing’s philosophy would be welcome at the moment.

“You did
what
?”

Elizabeth and Laurel exchanged looks upon hearing their father’s agitated voice. “Who’s in the vestibule?” asked Elizabeth, who reclined against the arm of the sofa wrapped in a blanket. She felt better today, likely because of Mrs. Paget’s soup, but was still forced to keep a handkerchief in hand.

Laurel put aside the copy of
Little Women
she’d borrowed from Helen Johnson on recommendation of Aleda Hollis and rose from her chair. “I’ll go see.” She edged over to the door and peered out, but by then it wasn’t necessary because Mr. Sykes’s voice carried clearly.

“We thought you’d be pleased, Vicar.”

Laurel turned to whisper loudly, “That was Mr. Sykes. The school board is here.”

Elizabeth nodded.

“Well, you could have at least asked me for a character recommendation!” their father’s voice thundered. “The young man led me to believe he was leaving town!”

He had decided to forgo any calls today to tend to Elizabeth and write his Sunday morning sermon. As she didn’t have a temperature, she wondered if the possibility of Jonathan reappearing on the porch today had anything to do with it. “You have to undo all of this now! What in the world were you thinking?”

“We can’t undo it, Vicar, and we had no other choice. He has a degree from Cambridge, and he’s wiring for references from his minister there.” Mr. Sway was speaking quite defensively now. “Besides, we didn’t even know you were acquainted with him.”

“And Mr. Pool vouched he was a good customer,” added Mr. Casper.

“Mr. Pool?”
their father said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “The
same
Mr. Pool who has known Mr. Raleigh all of twenty-four hours, if that long? The Mr. Pool who will be collecting lodging fees from him for as long as he stays in Gresham?”

Laurel turned to Elizabeth. “Can you hear all of this? They’ve hired Jonathan!”

Elizabeth nodded again. “You don’t have to stand there. You can hear every word sitting down.” But her sister waved her away and resumed her post.
Why did you allow him to come here, Lord?
she prayed as the argument went on in the next room. She meant no disrespect, but it seemed to her that after all the times she’d asked God to help her forget Jonathan Raleigh, He wouldn’t allow something like this to happen.

Now it was Mr. Sykes who spoke again. “We’re sorry you ain’t pleased, Vicar, but what’s done is done. It was nothing short of a miracle, his falling into our laps two hours after we find out Miss Clark was ill.”

There were more words and then the sound of the door closing. Laurel hurried to her chair just as their father stalked into the room. He dropped into his chair, planted both elbows upon his knees, and cradled his head with his hands.

“What’s wrong, Papa?” Laurel asked innocently.

He gave a low groan. “We’re going to have to move again.”

Intercepting the panicked look her sister threw her, Elizabeth realized at that moment from whom she had inherited her tendency toward theatrics. “We can’t go traipsing all over England just to hide from Jonathan, Papa. Besides, you have to consider the Hollises now too. Do you plan to break off your engagement?”

“No, of course not,” he sighed, looking up at her with the saddest of expressions.

“You can’t shield us from life, Papa.”

“I know.” He sighed again, then straightened in his chair. “I’m just so afraid.”

So am I
, Elizabeth thought. Of what, she wasn’t quite sure. “Doctor Rhodes is extremely competent,” she told him. “Miss Clark will probably be on her feet in a couple of weeks, then Mr. Raleigh will have no excuse to stay in Gresham.”

Then the absurdity of the whole matter struck her.
Jonathan Raleigh teach school?
The mental picture alone was enough to cause her a bit of a smile just before another sneeze seized her.

“Laurel, fetch your sister another handkerchief,” their father said, getting to his feet. “I want to see how Miss Clark is faring.” Whether he had decided Elizabeth’s reassurance had merit or his innate sense of duty had taken over was unclear, but he seemed relieved to have something constructive to do.

And since the
Larkspur
happened to be on the way to the Clarks’ cottage, she had no doubt that he would call upon Mrs. Hollis. If anyone could coax him out of a foul mood, she could.