Tenacious Trents 02 - A Perfect Gentleman (3 page)

Mr. Richards patted her hand. “Might I escort
you home?” He gestured to his carriage not far away.

Grace would love to ride home, but again, did
not want to offer any further encouragement. “No thank you, but it
was kind of you to offer.”

She broke away from Mr. Richards and walked
toward the hill. If she took the road, he would probably ride along
beside her until she reached her destination. Besides, she had been
gone long enough and the shorter route would get her back to papa
quicker. Grace tightened the ribbon under her chin to secure her
bonnet and glanced back. The new vicar watched her, a frown on his
face. She did not acknowledge him and began her trek.

What did he find so disapproving of her?
Granted, she was late this morning, but should one be judged so
quickly on one instance? She certainly hoped this was not his
normal disposition. He didn’t even smile when he delivered the
blessing, or sang. Being forgiven was a wonderful thing and should
make a person happy. Perhaps the new vicar didn’t know how to
smile, which would be very sad indeed because laughter was the most
wonderful thing in the world. She certainly hoped he didn’t come
here to judge and take all the enjoyment from the community. That
would not be good. Not good at all. Further, she would not allow it
to happen.

That horn was going to drive Matthew to
Bedlam. Perhaps it wasn’t the toot itself, but the fact that when
he thought the child was done and Matthew was able to return to
drafting out the notes for his next sermon, the noise sounded
again. On top of that, the horn was out of tune. How could anyone
work with such noise?

With the quill poised and ready to dip into
the ink he waited. The horn had sounded six times already. Was it
safe to continue or would the racket begin once more? He counted to
ten. Nothing. He dipped the quill. Still nothing. Finally,
silence.

Matthew put the tip to parchment. The horn
screeched and a shout rang out. Startled, his arm jerked and the
quill scratched across the parchment, ruining the entire page. He
shoved back his chair, stood and marched to the window. He arrived
just in time to see stacks of wood from a small, poorly built fort,
tumble to the ground. Children stood around the structure cheering.
In the middle of this group was Miss Cooper. It was Sunday
afternoon, why were these children not home with their families? He
turned from the window, grabbed his coat and stomped out the back
door of the parsonage and strode to the park-like setting behind
the church.

A little girl with blond curls looked up at
the young woman. “Did it happen just like that, Miss Cooper?”

“Something like that. But Jericho was much,
much bigger. Why, the walls that fell surrounded an entire
city.”

The children’s eyes grew wide with
astonishment.

An eager young boy pulled at her skirt. “What
happened next?”

She turned to one of the older lads. “Perhaps
you should read, James.”

A boy, whom Matthew assumed was James, picked
up the Bible lying on a blanket under the tree. The children
gathered around him and settled on the ground to hear more of the
accounting.

“Good afternoon, Miss Cooper, children.”

Miss Cooper jumped and turned to look at him.
A hand came up to her throat as if startled by his presence. The
children became silent in an instant, their eyes wide, almost as if
they were frightened of him. He couldn’t imagine why. They didn’t
even know him and he certainly wasn’t someone who instilled fear in
children. At least he didn’t think he did.

“Vicar Trent, what a surprise.”

For a moment, he was taken aback. He had
never seen such green eyes sparkle with happiness before. It must
be the sun’s reflection because he was sure they were not as green
this morning outside of the church. Some of her hair had come loose
and rich, mahogany curls framed her face. He took his focus off of
her and looked around at the gathering. “Might I ask what you are
doing?”

“Reenacting the fall of Jericho.” She
answered and gestured to the logs lying on the ground. “As you can
see, the walls have now fallen.”

“To what purpose?”

“This is Sunday School. We have lessons every
Sunday after the meal.”

Matthew glanced at Miss Cooper and then the
children. He moved away from the gathering and gestured for Miss
Cooper to follow him to a place further from the children.

She frowned and followed him.

Matthew glanced behind them. The children
should not be able to hear them.

“I thought Sunday school was for learning how
to read, write and other such things, Matthew asked in a low
voice.

She brought her hand up to her chin and
appeared to give his words some consideration for a moment. “I
suppose that is one purpose.”

“Then shouldn’t the children be reading from
their Bible instead of playacting.”

Her face lit with excitement. “They learn so
much more when they can pretend and take parts.”

“So they have already read the story.”
Perhaps he needed to explain to her the reason for Sunday school so
she could go about teaching the children in a proper way. It was a
fairly new concept for the purpose of educating the poor, teaching
them to read, write, cipher, and such.

“No, I told them. We were just about to read
what came next.”

Miss Cooper clearly did not understand her
role as the teacher. Perhaps she was too young. Maybe there was
someone who was better suited for the position, such as an older,
mature woman who would not want to play with the students. He
pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and
thought about how to explain.

“I am glad you are going to read now, but
wouldn’t the children learn more if they had read the story from
the beginning?”

She shook her head and frowned. “They enjoy
this part and I see no harm.”

“No harm?” He threw his hands up and paced
before her. “The children need to learn how to read, understand
grammar. They cannot do that if you tell them the stories they are
to read for themselves.”

Her forehead scrunched. “Vicar Trent, the
purpose of this Sunday School is to teach Bible stories.”

He stopped and stared at her. “Then who is
teaching them to read, and all those other subjects children need
to learn in school?” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but the
young woman was beyond frustrating. A few of the children glanced
over at him.

“Mr. Petty, the school teacher,” Miss Cooper
leaned in and whispered. “Once they are of age, the children attend
during the week.”

He closed his eyes and ran his fingers
through his hair. Nobody told him there was a school in the
village.

Grace glanced back at the children. They were
having such fun until he came along. Now they were frightened as
poor rabbits cornered by a fox. His stance was so rigid and there
wasn’t even a hint of a smile. He was much too serious. “Would you
care to join us? The children would learn so much more from you, I
am sure.”

His eyes grew wide, his mouth formed an odd
shape, as if he had tasted something quite horrid and he took a
step back. “I do not think so, Miss Cooper.”

“Miss Cooper?”

She turned to James. “Yes?”

“What is pro… st . . prost… I don’t
know this word.”

How could she have forgotten Rahab was a
prostitute? Heat infused her cheeks. She certainly didn’t want to
explain such a profession. “Don’t worry about it,” She called back
to him before she turned to face Vicar Trent. His mouth was pursed,
the left side tilted at a slight angle, his left eyebrow raised.
Was he smirking at her? How dare he!

Her face burned. She turned her back on the
man and looked back at James. “What is important is that Rahab hid
the spies and helped Joshua.”

The boy shrugged his shoulders and appeared
happy with the explanation.

“Why don’t you children pick up the wood and
stack it so Vicar Trent will have kindling for his fire.”

Without a word, they went to work, gathering
the branches and small logs and she focused her attention back on
Vicar Trent’s light blue eyes and a mixture of mortification,
vexation and embarrassment settled into the pit of her stomach.
This second impression was worse than the first, and she had only
met him three hours ago.

He turned and walked away from her and the
children, his hands clasped behind his back. Grace hurried to catch
up and matched her steps with his. Not sure how to proceed, she too
clasped her hands behind her and mimicked his movements.

“Explain to me, Miss Cooper, why it is
necessary to have Sunday school when there is already a
school?”

Did the man not listen before? “To teach them
Bible stories.”

“Why can’t they be taught in school?” He
continued walking, his head down, as if he was pondering her
questions and answers.

“There is not enough time.”

He stopped and turned to look at her. “Are
they not in school all day?”

Why did she feel like she was in trouble
somehow when she had done nothing wrong? “No. Only in the morning.
Many of the children are needed at home for chores.”

“Ah.” He nodded his head, turned and
continued to walk.

“Very few villages have schools. We are lucky
to have Mr. Petty. He tutored all of Lord Crews’ boys, until they
were old enough to go to school. The council offered him a cottage
and a small pittance if he would stay and teach.”

“I see,” Vicar Trent mumbled.

What did he see?

“And this Mr. Petty does not have time to add
Biblical teachings to his lessons?”

“I already said he did not.” Could this man
not remember what was said to him but a few moments ago? Did he
have an ailment of some sort which affected his memory?

Vicar Trent stopped and brought his hand up
to rub his chin. “Perhaps I should speak to this teacher.”

Grace stepped in front of him and fought the
panic. “Please, do not.”

He looked down at her. “Why ever not?”

She had to make her argument convincing, but
who was he to decide to make changes after living in the village
for not even a full week. She fisted her hands and placed them on
her hips. “As I said, he does not have time. And second, teaching
Sunday school is my job.”

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “They pay you
to teach these children?”

She took a step back, a bit offended by his
tone, as if she were not worthy. “Yes, they do.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped
his right foot. If that wasn’t bad enough, he narrowed his eyes as
if judging her. “Exactly what are you qualifications?”

Qualifications? Did one now need to be
qualified to teach children the Bible? “I love children and I know
the Bible.”

“It sounded to me as if you were merely
playing?”

Grace clenched her jaw tight to keep from
saying anything rude or worse, something completely inappropriate
to say to a vicar. She inhaled through her nostrils. Who was he
that he could judge her? She forced herself to relax and blew out a
breath.
I will remain calm
. “As I said, the children enjoy
acting out the stories. They take much more from them than simply
reading it in the Bible.”

He pivoted on his heel and put his hands
behind his back once more, but did not walk back. The children were
still carrying sticks to the woodpile beside the parsonage and
stacked them neatly beside the already seasoned wood. “Then might I
suggest that you
teach
quieter next time.”

Oh dear, they had disturbed him. No wonder he
was irritated. Grace hurried to catch up. “I am sorry. Were you
working on something very important?”

He stopped and looked down at her again.
“Next week’s sermon.”

Already?
“But that is not until next
week.”