The Country House Courtship (55 page)

“Of course I shall!”

“I have little to offer you, I am well aware—”

“Shussh,” she said, putting one gloved finger against his lips. “You have everything to offer me that I need. Forgive me for not realizing it sooner.”

“There is nothing to forgive!”

Mr. Mornay was glad that he thought to check on his future relation. Somehow he was beginning to feel fond of the man—astounding! After twenty minutes had gone by, he left the house just to be certain that the clergyman and his young sister-in-law had not fallen into any trouble out in the cold. But when he saw the sleigh, abandoned right outside the mews, and a single horse tethered nearby, he had to suppress a groan. What on earth had happened this time? He put the horse into its stall and threw a blanket over it, then mounted Tornado to find out what was what.

He followed the tracks of the carriage wheels and horses' hooves in the snow, slowing only when he spied the vehicle ahead, no longer moving. He slowly clip-clopped his way toward it, cautiously, noting that the carriage was Mr. Barton's. He felt a small apprehension—was Barton up to something? He then saw a man lying on the side of the road. He did not know who it was, but he could also see, on the other side of the carriage, another man face down in the snow. As he came up to the vehicle, he noticed the couple standing close against it. So Mr. O'Brien had finally made his declaration!

It was about time.

T
he wedding was set for the following week.

But today the couple strolled arm in arm, hazarding again the great outdoors on the Aspindon property in the chilly weather. Neither seemed to mind.

“How did Mr. Mornay know that you would return my love?” Mr. O'Brien asked.

Beatrice stopped to look up into the eyes of the tall, handsome clergyman, soon to be her husband—and soon to be the vicar of Glendover, as well.

“I think,” she said, “it was when I cried off from wanting a Season in London!”

They both laughed lightly.

He was relishing the sight of her pretty face, the little russet curls peeking out from her bonnet, knowing that they were soon to be man and wife.

They walked on, their steps quickening due to the cold. Beatrice was wearing thick woolen stockings, but even so, could feel the intrusion of the weather. Finally they came out to the clearing, and Beatrice exclaimed, “We've made it! There's the house again!”

It was still the same cheerful cottage, cozy looking, sweet—but small.

Beatrice's smile faltered and she sighed. “I must confess, I know that the glebe here is greater; and the living is double the value of Warwickdon; but I daresay it would be far more comfortable at the vicarage there than at this little house.”

He turned puzzled eyes upon hers.

“Than at this house? But of course you know we won't be living
here
?” He suddenly started to chuckle.

“What! Why do you laugh?”

“This house, little Beatrice, is for the circulating warden in these parts. Glendover's vicarage is far more spacious and grand than the one at Warwickdon! The only thing it lacks,” he said, with a little smile, “is a family beneath its spacious rafters, which, I dare to hope we will redress in good time.”

She blushed, but was shaking with laughter. “You mean that all this time I thought the warden's house was the parsonage? And no one ever set me right?”

“I didn't realize your misapprehension!” he cried. But he took her into his arms, after taking a quick look around them to make sure they were alone.

He was about to kiss her when she said, “Mr. O'Brien, would you be so kind as to see if that door is unlocked?”

“What, to the cottage?” he asked, in surprise.

“My feet! I can't feel them again!”

“If I take you in there now, Mornay will have my head!”

“If you do not, I will have no feet!” she giggled.

“You are very fortunate, Miss Forsythe,” he said with another small laugh.

“Why is that?” she asked.

He bent and lifted her into his arms, and began walking comfortably to the right of the path, along the line of the woods. Their faces were now only inches apart.

“Because this time, I came prepared.”

He put her down gently inside a sleigh where blankets awaited, wrapped her feet snugly inside a great thick one; and then climbed in himself, put one arm about her shoulders, and slapped the reins lightly to get the horses moving.

“How on earth…?” she asked, surprised and delighted.

“I arranged it all earlier with your brother-in-law's assistance.”

“You were lucky that it snowed again,” she said mischievously.

“And you were lucky that Mr. Mornay gave me a set-down for having the audacity to suggest taking you out for a walk in such weather.”

“I wondered how you got use of the sleigh!”

He laughed. “He forced my promise to use it coming back, which I desired to do in any case. I owed you a sleigh ride since our last attempt was unsuccessful.”

They both knew he was alluding to the evening of Barton's desperate and bungled attempt to whisk her off to Scotland.

After a pause, he said, “Do you suppose we shall ever live in peace with him so close by?”

“Once we are wed, he will put all his attention back to his own family,” she said. “I am quite sure of it.”

There was a comfortable silence while they glided on, and the world was all beautiful and white.

With an impulsive burst of gladness, Beatrice snuggled closer against him at which Mr. O'Brien thought he might burst with happiness. He had his girl! He had not one, but two livings!
Two
of them! He was no longer a mere curate, but would be a vicar! God was so good! And to think that without Mr. Mornay, none of this would be possible!

Pulling him back from his thoughts, Beatrice said, “Do you know, there is
one
thing I regret?”

With a pang, he wondered if she was going to confess that she did want to go to London after all; or that she had second thoughts about giving up ideas of grandeur. But instead she said, “That you won't have to rub my numb feet back to life!”

He laughed out loud and pressed her closer to his side. “My little Beatrice,” he said, into her ear. “I will be delighted to do so; after our wedding, I will be happy to do that, and much more.”

The horses pulled them smoothly along the wide trail, and Aspindon came back into view. They both came to attention as the shape of a man upon a horse was suddenly ahead of them.

“Upon my word,” said Beatrice, “I do believe he's checking on us!”

“Why hasn't he been off to London yet? To finally accept the title? I would think that gaining a viscountcy would give him reason enough to leave his home for a day.”

“And risk having us out of his sight? Out of his watchful eye? Being a viscount seems nothing to him while we are as yet unmarried, and in need of chaperonage—or so he must think. He takes us for the veriest youths, as though we have no idea of propriety.”

Mr. O'Brien gazed at Mr. Mornay getting swiftly closer, and shook his head, but there was a little smile upon his mouth. “Heaven help us. And God bless him!”

1. What aspect of the courtship (romance) between Mr. O'Brien and Miss Beatrice Forsythe did you most enjoy?

2. Do you think Beatrice will make a good wife for a vicar? Why or why not?

3. How did Mr. Barton actually help Beatrice (without meaning to) to realize “what matters most” in life?

4. If Beatrice had stuck to her earliest goals of marrying a wealthy man, of social climbing and pleasure-seeking, how do you think she would have felt in five years' time?

5. If you were to visit Regency England, would you prefer to see London during the Season, or to stay at a country estate like Aspindon?

6. In your opinion, should Mr. Mornay have been stronger during his wife's illness? Or did he react in much the same way you would, given the circumstances? What are God's means of reaching us during times like these so that we can always have hope?

7. When Mr. O'Brien suspects the truth regarding Anne Barton's condition, he is filled with compassion and wants to help her if he can. Would you have shared his reaction? Would you have wanted to censure her? Why or why not?

8. If you had been in Beatrice's shoes, would you have held out for a man like Barton (wealthy and urbane) only with a more honourable character? Or allowed the earnest and kind Mr. O'Brien to “turn your head” as she did?

9. In your opinion, do people today still have to choose between false promises of wealth vs. what matters most? (ie. love and family)

10. How have you avoided the pitfalls of the world's temptations in your own life at times? Have you ever successfully chosen what is best over what appears “good”? Share with others how this happened.

About the Author

L
inore Rose Burkard lives with her husband and five children in a town full of antique stores and gift shops in southwestern Ohio. She homeschooled her children for ten years. Raised in New York, she graduated magna cum laude from the City University of New York with a Bachelor of Arts in English literature.

Ms. Burkard began writing her books about Ariana Forsythe because she could not find an Inspirational Regency Romance on the bookshelves of any store. “There were Christian books that approached the genre,” she says, “but they fell short of being a genuine Regency. I finally gave up looking and wrote what I was looking for myself.” She also enjoys writing articles, reading, parenting, family movie nights, swimming, and gardening.

Linore enjoys hearing from her readers. She can be reached at
[email protected]
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http://www.LinoreRoseBurkard.com
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