The Widow of Larkspur Inn (36 page)

“What must the others think of me?” the older woman glanced at the door and wrung her hands. “And Mr. Durwin … why, I feel such a fool.”

Sighing inwardly, Julia reminded herself of Mrs. Kingston’s good qualities—how she’d kept her word about being agreeable, for the most part anyway. Why, the woman had become almost like a mother to poor Mr. Clay.
She’s considerate of the servants and doesn’t complain about my children making noise outside or walking through the garden
. And she was even a faithful member of the Women’s Charity Society, which met weekly to knit woolens for needy families. Why then, Julia wondered, did she feel the need to make so many negative comments to dear Mrs. Hyatt, who wouldn’t purposely hurt a soul?

In an instant the answer came.
Of course!
Had she been too busy to notice what was going on under her own roof? Julia eyed Mrs. Hyatt seriously. “And why do you suppose Mrs. Kingston would say such a thing?”

“Mr. Durwin was the one who initiated the conversation,” came out in a defensive tone, as if Mrs. Hyatt feared that Mrs. Kingston wasn’t the
only
one who believed her to be an aging coquette. “While Mrs. Kingston and I were strolling back down the Anwyl, Mr. Durwin caught up with us. He wanted us to see some herbs he’d collected among the ruins. Mr. Durwin believes that very type of herb was used by the Romans for toothaches.”

Julia nodded thoughtfully. “And he didn’t show them to Mrs. Kingston, did he?”

“Well, he was just about to. She was on my other side, you see, and Mr. Durwin to my left. But before he could hand the basket across to her, she began muttering something about not having the time to waste on a handful of weeds and took off ahead.”

“Yes, I can imagine.” In fact, Julia actually could visualize the whole scene in her mind—Mrs. Kingston’s formidable figure bustling down the path, her expression as foreboding as March thunder. “And then later she accused you of pursuing Mr. Durwin.”

Before Mrs. Hyatt could answer, Julia went on. “Have you asked yourself
why
Mrs. Kingston would say such a thing?”

“Why?” the older woman echoed pensively. It was obvious from her tone of voice that she had not. “Perhaps she didn’t feel well?”

Julia shook her head. “I suspect there is some jealously at play here.”

“
Jealousy?
”

“Haven’t you noticed that Mrs. Kingston seems to have some affection for Mr. Durwin herself?”

“Why, I never noticed.” After a long moment’s thought, though, she nodded sadly. “But I believe you’re right, Mrs. Hollis. She does seem to light up at times when he’s around.”

“And so when Mr. Durwin gave you some attention first …”

“The poor dear!” Mrs. Hyatt exclaimed, raising a hand to her soft cheek.

“Jealousy is a painful thing to suffer, Mrs. Hyatt.”

“Why, I’ll have to reassure her that I have no intention of coming between the two of them.”

At first Julia was satisfied with Mrs. Hyatt’s change of mood, until the true meaning of her words took hold. Folding her arms, she said, “But, Mrs. Hyatt, if
you’re
fond of Mr. Durwin, you shouldn’t have to step aside to spare Mrs. Kingston’s feelings.”

Mrs. Hyatt just stood there, her flush deepening to a bright crimson.

“There is nothing ridiculous about having affection for someone, no matter what your age,” Julia went on gently.

“But what if
he
suspects how I feel about him?”

Julia smiled. “Why, I imagine he would feel flattered.”

“And Mrs. Kingston …?”

“Isn’t betrothed to Mr. Durwin. You have as much of a right to enjoy his company as she has.”

“Won’t she be terribly hurt if—”

“If it becomes apparent that he prefers your company to hers?”

The gray eyes lowered again. “Yes.”

“Possibly so,” Julia answered. “But that will have been his decision. And your stepping aside won’t make Mr. Durwin any more or less fond of Mrs. Kingston.”

Mrs. Hyatt’s brow knitted together as she considered this for a moment. “Things were so much simpler with my Adam,” she said in a voice colored with remembrance. “We were third cousins, and my family had taken it for granted ever since we were children that we would marry one day.”

“A woman never forgets her first love, I suppose,” Julia said, and for a brief minute an image of Philip smiling lovingly at her brought a hollow ache to her heart. It was the first time she’d thought of him in weeks, and she forced the image from her mind.

“I do so enjoy Mr. Durwin’s company,” Mrs. Hyatt went on to admit, her voice dropping to a near whisper again. “The things he has to say about herbs and nutrition. Well, I don’t understand some of it, but it’s very interesting.”

Julia had to smile again. “Of course it is.” Then linking her arm through the older woman’s, she said, “Now, why don’t we go downstairs? I’m sure you don’t really want to have supper alone.”

“No, I don’t,” Mrs. Hyatt smiled back. “Thank you, Mrs. Hollis. It is so reassuring to live in a house with such a capable person in charge.”

The usual mealtime voices and clicks of silver upon china drifted from the dining room, muffled by the double doors. As Julia opened the one on the right, Mrs. Kingston’s voice could be heard above the rest.

“Well, I don’t care how much education he has. His sermons will never hold a candle to Vicar Wilson’s … you just wait and see. There are some things that can’t be taught in ivory towers!”

Julia felt ashamed of the resentment she’d felt in the kitchen garden toward the new vicar.

“Pay her no mind,” Julia whispered to Mrs. Hyatt and received a grateful nod in return.

“Why, we were afraid you weren’t coming,” Mrs. Dearing beamed from the table, while Mr. Durwin and then Mr. Clay rose to stand behind their chairs until Mrs. Hyatt and Julia could serve themselves.

When everyone was finally seated, Mr. Durwin asked from behind his platter of boiled vegetables and fresh fruit, “Everything is all right, I trust?”

Julia caught the meaningful glance he directed at Mrs. Hyatt and wondered if he had always looked at her in such a manner—right under her own unobservant nose.

“Everything is quite all right,” Julia answered to deflect attention away from Mrs. Hyatt, who would likely need some time to settle into the table conversation. “Thank you for asking.”

She glanced over at Mrs. Kingston, seated adjacent to Miss Dearing, but there was no expression on her face as she busied herself with her meal.

“We were just saying that the new vicar should be moving in today,” Miss Rawlins said. “Reverend Phelps is his name. Degree from Cambridge.” To the “humph!” that came from farther down the table she cut her eyes to Mrs. Kingston and said, “It’s
only
the most prestigious university in the world!”

Speculation about the new vicar continued as every meager morsel of information was chewed over thoroughly. Julia was curious about the new vicar too, as she was of any new face in Gresham, but after a while she found her thoughts drifting to the compliment Mrs. Hyatt had given her upstairs.

She said I was capable!
Julia had been too busy since arriving in Gresham to pause and take inventory of her skills … but could it be so? Mistakes she’d made, but none of them major.
And everyone seems to feel at home here—even Mrs. Kingston
. From the head of the table she looked at Philip and Grace to her left and at Aleda to her right. They were so caught up in listening to the adult conversation around them that only Aleda caught her eye and smiled. Julia smiled back.
And most importantly, the children are thriving.

Capability had crept up upon her unawares, it seemed, while she was laboring over linen inventories and choosing wall coverings. And it had come from God, she was certain, for He answered most of her prayers that way. Unobtrusively. Quietly.

She smiled again, to herself this time. Six months ago, on her first night in the
Larkspur,
she had determined to learn to be content one day. She had naively assumed back then that one particular day would arrive hand in hand with the absence of any troubles. Now she realized that there would likely never be a trouble-free time in her life.

For one thing, it was difficult raising children without a father, and trying to manage a business at the same time made it even more so. And Philip still seemed to distance himself from her at times, even though when asked he would insist that there was nothing wrong.
Still, I’m more content now than I have ever been in my life
. Perhaps it was because she had seen the hand of God mightily at work in her life, and now she knew she could trust Him with her present concerns as well. It was a safe, comfortable feeling, and one she prayed she would never take for granted.

Chapter 21

Philip’s vow to graduate from Gresham School as top student had not diminished over the summer months. Three weeks into a fresh school year, he found himself studying harder than ever and easily performing better than the other students in the sixth standard. Success was becoming such a habit that he felt no concern when the new vicar’s daughter, Laurel Phelps, walked into the classroom for the first time.

The only impression that struck him was that she was pretty, with straight blond hair tied in a blue ribbon and dark brown eyes. Not that her appearance mattered, for with studying, fishing, and cricket taking up the bulk of his time, he had none left to think about girls. Philip glanced around at Jeremiah and Ben. Both faces watched with slackened jaws as she made her way down the row of desks on the opposite side of the classroom.
I suppose they’ll be fighting over her now,
he thought wryly.

He heard a clunk and looked over at the girl again. She’d dropped a book on the floor beside her new desk, and just before kneeling to retrieve it, she happened to look over at him. A dimple appeared in her cheek as she gave him a quick bashful smile.

Philip smiled back, and a strange warmth filled his heart. In fact, he found himself wanting to bound over there and pick up the book for her. He touched the crown of his head and wished he’d bought another jar of pomade after Grace used it all. His stubborn cowlick was again asserting its right to stand apart from the other hairs.

That’s all right,
he consoled himself. Hadn’t he overheard Miss Rawlins say to Mrs. Dearing just last week that women were more attracted to a man’s intelligence than his appearance? It wouldn’t take this Laurel Phelps long to discover who was the most upstanding student in the whole school.

Captain Powell’s authoritative voice snapped him out of his reverie and brought his attention to the front of the classroom.

“Students in sixth standard, clear your desks and prepare pens and paper,” he was saying.

Philip obeyed, confidently looking forward to the first history test. Mr. Durwin had called out dates and events that occurred during the classical era for over two hours yesterday evening, drilling him until he’d had dreams last night of Diocletian dividing the Roman Empire and Vandals capturing Carthage. After filling his pen from the inkwell upon his desk, he scripted his name at the top of the page and waited for the first question.

Captain Powell’s first question, as it turned out, was directed to the new girl. “Miss Phelps,” he said. “Would you prefer to delay your examination for a week? You’ve not had the advantage of preparing for it.”

You should wait,
Philip urged silently, watching her face from the corner of his eye.
Captain Powell’s examinations are beastly hard.
He could even offer to help her study. And of course she would see the advantage of having him do so, for the top scorer would probably be announced by the end of the day. Captain Powell was inclined to use every hour of daylight available to him, so he often graded papers during break while seated on the school steps.

But Laurel Phelps surprised him by shaking her head. “No, thank you, sir,” she said shyly. “I studied the classical world last year. I believe I can remember most of it.”

Philip felt sorry for her, for he was aware of what she was doing. It was better to risk making a poor score than to set yourself apart from the other students on your first day. With a quiet sigh, he turned his attention back to the examination, answering the first question by writing,
The cause of the Punic Wars was commercial rivalry over the Mediterranean Sea between Rome and Carthage.
Captain Powell insisted that answers be given in the form of whole sentences. He didn’t recall the headmaster informing Laurel Phelps as such and hoped she would instinctively figure that out.

During the break, Philip, Ben, and Jeremiah joined several other boys for a game of marbles around a circle they’d scratched in the dirt under an elder tree. They played with more animation than ever, congratulating themselves loudly for good plays, but so many glances were directed to the girls’ side of the school yard that points were few and far between. And sure enough, Captain Powell graded papers on the steps. Hopefully he would allow the new girl to take a makeup examination in a few days. Philip wished he had the boldness to sidle up to the schoolmaster and suggest that he do so. Wouldn’t
that
make him a hero in her eyes!

It was not until the closing minutes of the day that Captain Powell handed out the graded examinations. Even though he’d received a twenty-nine out of a possible thirty points, Philip sat silent amidst the low groans and self-congratulatory remarks. His near perfect scores had always made the former unnecessary, and as far as the latter … well, praise was always sweeter coming from someone else’s lips. Casually leaning back in his desk chair, he pretended to study a blister on his thumb and waited for the announcement of the top score. He would accept the congratulations of his teacher with his usual modest composure, so that no one could accuse him of conceit.