The Courtship of the Vicar's Daughter (40 page)

“They’ll need places to get in from sudden rain or wind storms,” Seth replied. “Sometimes there isn’t time to herd them all to the stables. And if we’re in town or at chapel, we won’t have to worry.”

“What if it snows?”

“A little snow won’t hurt them.” He smiled and gave a playful tug to the bill of Thomas’s oversized cap, which the boy had grown accustomed to and declined his offer of a replacement. “But now a
hailstorm
, well, that’s another story.”

“Have you ever been in a hailstorm, sir?”

“Once or twice.”

The boy was full of questions now that he had gotten over some of his initial shyness, but Seth wasn’t annoyed. It was, in fact, rewarding to him that Thomas looked to him to explain so many things.

It was also good to see some color in his cheeks. He even seemed heartier, though Seth couldn’t imagine how that could have come to pass on a diet of cheese sandwiches, porridge, and tinned beef. Of course having fresh milk helped.
I need to ask Mr. Trumble where I can buy chickens
, he reminded himself as he directed Thomas to a high spot in the pasture. They still needed eggs. He had come to accept that he had been cheated by the Sanders boys regarding the guineas, but now the boy had become too fond of them for him to consider giving them back. Even now, they hurried behind the wagon, clucking and clattering their
pot-rack!
calls.

It would be a welcome change to have a meal at the
Bow and Fiddle
once in a while, but he had only to remember Mr. and Mrs. Pool’s inquisitiveness to put that notion to rest. Sometimes when passing cottages on the way to town, he would get a whiff of roast beef cooking or some savory stew that made his mouth water. If his business turned out to be profitable, he could hire a cook and perhaps a housekeeper, but he couldn’t risk Thomas’s future now on any unnecessary expenditures.

They would be in that spot in the pasture for the rest of the morning, so Seth unhitched Bonny and Soot from the wagon and allowed them to wander. Thomas scrambled back into the wagon bed without being asked and began hefting one oak plank at a time and handing them over. Seth could have unloaded them in a third of the time by himself, but he wouldn’t have caused the boy’s expression of pride to be hindered for anything in the world.

God has been better to me than I ever deserved
, he reminded himself while taking another board from the boy. So his meals were less than desirable. Food wasn’t everything. He had the companionship of a little fellow who trusted him completely for his every need. The only thing that would make life completely perfect would be to have Elaine here with them, but that wasn’t going to happen. When thoughts like that came around, he forced himself to think of something else. Sometimes it actually worked.

Of all days
… Andrew thought from the pulpit the next morning upon catching sight of Jonathan Raleigh’s face in the back row.
Why didn’t I consider that he might come to church?
He knew the answer to that one. He was still skeptical of the young man’s professed conversion, no matter how many Bible verses he had memorized. Even Satan could quote the Bible, as he had while tempting the Lord Jesus. If Mr. Raleigh had truly become a Christian, the fruits were surely lacking. Wouldn’t a true Christian heed the counsel of a man of God?

Andrew realized at that moment that while he was staring toward the back of the church, his congregation had begun to direct curious stares in his direction. Bringing himself sharply back to the duties at hand, he cleared his throat and looked down at the text he had announced seconds ago. It was only because he had already announced this particular chapter and verse that he didn’t switch over to something safe, such as the feeding of the five thousand or perhaps even Joshua and the battle of Jericho.

Clearing his throat, he began to read from the eighteenth chapter of Matthew: “ ‘Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times? Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven.’ ”

His sermon revolved around the servant who was forgiven by his master of an overwhelming debt but then turned around and threw into prison another who owed him a pittance. He kept his eyes averted from the back row as he delivered it. Just the sight of a smug look on Jonathan Raleigh’s face, and Andrew feared he would lose all control of his temper, stalk down the aisle, and seize him by the throat.

It isn’t a matter of forgiveness
, he reminded himself as the words of his sermon hopefully found their way into the hearts of his congregation. But a little part of him was aware that it was. During the closing hymn he slipped away to the vestibule and front door, as was his custom, to bid farewell to the parishioners as they left. Because Mr. Raleigh had been seated in the back, he was one of the first to come through. Andrew girded himself mentally for the triumph that would surely be in his expression—after all, not only had the young man refused his request that he leave town, but he had wormed his way into a teaching position.

But curiously, Mr. Raleigh merely shook his hand, gave a respectful nod, and then walked across the green toward the
Bow and Fiddle
. He did not even look back, Andrew noticed between shaking other hands. Grudgingly he felt grateful that Mr. Raleigh at least had the decency not to linger in the hopes of a chat with Elizabeth.

“Would you come to visit Stanley this week?” Mrs. Croft, the joiner’s wife, asked as they clasped hands. “His bunion’s giving him horrible fits.”

“Of course, Mrs. Croft,” Andrew answered. “I’ll come tomorrow. But don’t you think Doctor Rhodes should have a look at it?”

“Ooh … he’s afeared the doctor will go at it with a knife.”

All he could do was reassure her again that he would come, hoping he could talk some sense into the man. Just then he caught sight of Elizabeth, who had slipped through the door behind Mrs. Croft and was standing off to herself. His lips tightened at the realization that she was staring in the direction of Mr. Raleigh’s retreating back.

“Good morning, boys and girls,” Jonathan said the next morning, hands clasped behind his back. “I am Mr. Raleigh, your schoolmaster.”

“Good morning, Mr. Raleigh,” the children replied in perfect unison—or they
would
have replied in such a manner had they been present in the rows of empty desks that Jonathan addressed.

“Just as a ship raises anchor and sets forth to discover new lands, we will embark upon a journey of learning,” he went on and then shook his head at the pompous way that sounded to his own ears.

“We will learn many things together,” he said next.
Too casual and too bland
, he thought.
And the older children will think I’m talking down to them
.

“It was Aristotle in the fourth century who said, ‘The roots of education are bitter, but the fruit is sweet.’ ” Frowning, Jonathan mumbled, “What if they only consider the
bitter
part and get discouraged?”

“I don’t think that will happen,” came a voice from the doorway. Jonathan jerked his head in that direction and felt his face flush at the sight of Mrs. Hollis.

“Mrs. Hollis,” he said. “When did you get here?”

She walked inside the room. “Just as the ship was raising anchor, Mr. Raleigh.”

After a stunned second he could do nothing but smile sheepishly, and she smiled back. She was an attractive woman with rich auburn hair and a gracious manner. Jonathan felt happy that Elizabeth would be gaining such a person as a stepmother, for once during their earlier courtship she had confided in him a longing for a maternal presence in her life.

“I decided to come early,” she said. “In case you needed some moral support on your first day.”

“How thoughtful of you.” As he shook the hand she offered, he held up his other hand for her to see. “I’ve been shaking since last night.”

“You’ll do fine.” A childish whoop sounded from outside. “It looks as if the merry-go-round has drawn some other early arrivers.”

“Yes, more early arrivers,” Jonathan echoed. The sound of a flesh and blood child, as opposed to the invisible ones in the desks, intensified his panic. Yes, he had played with them in the school yard, but then he hadn’t been burdened with being in a position of authority. What if they figured him out for the phony he was?
Whatever makes you think you can teach anyway?
he asked himself for the hundredth time.

Apparently reading his thoughts, Mrs. Hollis remarked gently, “No one ever died from teaching school, Mr. Raleigh.”

“Now, remember to mind your schoolmaster,” Seth told Thomas as they stood beside the wagon in the lane facing the school yard. He was aware that such a reminder was unnecessary for someone as obedient as Thomas, but having never gone to school himself, he wasn’t quite sure what it was that parents were supposed to say.

“Yes, sir.” Thomas smiled back at him. With his lunch pail on one arm, he looked eager to begin the day.

“And take your cap off when you’re inside.” Seth gave the bill a tug. “I’ll be out here when it’s over.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right, be off with you then,” Seth said with a gruffness that belied the sudden thickness of his throat. The boy turned and walked toward the school yard. He paused only once to send back to Seth a nervous little smile.

I should go with him and take him inside to meet the schoolmaster
. But he didn’t see any other fathers around. Again, he had to consider Thomas’s relationship with his schoolmates. Some teasing was inevitable because of the boy’s small size. Even though he was filling out a bit, he still looked younger than his seven years. But there was no sense in providing those who were so inclined to tease with further ammunition.

Just drive away
, he thought as Thomas appeared to be conversing with a little girl with curly brown hair. There was work to be done, and he would sure enough subject Thomas to ridicule if he sat staring from the wagon all morning. Giving the reins a twitch, he forced himself to keep his eyes on the lane ahead.

He needed to get some things from
Trumbles
, so at the crossroads he reined the horses to the left. The bell above the door gave its usual tinkle after he had tied the reins to the rail outside. To his right a middle-aged woman turned her head briefly from a table piled with bolts of cloth to give him a timid smile, and Seth nodded back. She held a blanket-swathed baby up to one shoulder and a small package tucked under the other elbow. Seth thought no more about her when Mr. Trumble bade him good day from behind the counter.