The Heart of a Vicar

by Sarah M. Eden

  Where are you now, Harold?

  He had genuinely loved her; Mater had said as much. There was some peace to be found in finally knowing that with some degree of certainty. Theirs had been an impossible connection, but at least it had not been feigned.

  Her mind lingered on the brief moment in her sitting room when he’d held her, on the concern she’d heard in his voice as she’d told him of her struggles that day she’d found him out at the abbey ruins, of the quiet way he’d asked if she would miss him while he was away. Perhaps in some way, he loved her still. An aching hope began to bubble at the idea. She pushed it away. Until she knew who he was now, she could not entertain such errant thoughts.

  The carriage came to a stop in front of Sarvol House. Her heart dropped at the sight. She dreaded returning here each day.

  “There is an answer to all of this. There has to be,” she said aloud before exiting the carriage.

  Mrs. Tanner met her in the Sarvol House entryway. “Best hurry to the library, miss. Your uncle is in a rare taking. He is quite put out that you were not at home.”

  Odd. “I was at Lampton Park. He has never objected to my visiting there before.”

  Poor Mrs. Tanner looked frantic. “He has insisted you present yourself in the library as soon as you arrive.”

  Sarah squared her shoulders. “Then I had best appear there.” She hoped her show of confidence was convincing. Her uncle might not be as belligerent if he believed she couldn’t be browbeaten. If nothing else, she might offer Mrs. Tanner a temporary reprieve from Uncle’s temper.

  She stepped into the library.

  Uncle sat at the desk, his wheelchair pushed up to it. “You were gone again.”

  Stay calm, Sarah. “I was calling on Lord and Lady Lampton and the Dowager Countess. Lord and Lady Cavratt were there as well.” Her uncle put a lot of store by titles.

  Uncle’s anger, however, did not appear the least bit assuaged. “If I wish you to be here, you should be. Poor relations should not inconvenience those offering them charity.”

  “I am here with my brother, and he is your heir. We are hardly poor relations.”

  Uncle’s gaze hardened. “He is my heir. I didn’t ask you to come.” There was something different in his grumbling. Something even angrier than usual. Something more threatening.

  “Where is Scott?”

  “He and Clark are seeing to a tenant issue,” Uncle said. “He knows his place, something you would do well to learn.”

  “I have caused you no true inconvenience,” she insisted.

  “You cost me my daughter.”

  “She was happy at Farland Meadows.”

  “And now she is dead.” He spat the words at her, accusation heavy in his tone. “You will return to your rooms and remain there.”

  “For how long?”

  “I am master of this house and all who live in it. Do not push me.”

  Gentlemen were granted tremendous control over ladies’ lives, but that did not eliminate their choices. Sarah clung to that as she stood there watching the anger and hardness grow in his glare. She had done absolutely nothing to deserve his wrath, yet he piled it on her day after day. Her choice, her escape, would be to continue spending time with the Jonquils.

  “I intend to visit Lampton Park again tomorrow.” She kept her tone calm and collected. “Is there any message you would like me to deliver on your behalf?”

  “You will not be going.”

  “Why not?”

  “You will stay in your room until I say otherwise.” He took up a small stack of papers, though he continued speaking to her. “Do not attempt to convince the servants to undermine my orders. Every one of them can be replaced if they defy me.”

  “All of this simply to stop me from visiting the neighbors?” It made no sense.

  “You will learn your place, Sarah.”

  “What place is that?”

  His eyes met hers again. “Your place is wherever I determine it is.”

  He was making little sense.

  “You clearly don’t actually wish me to be here. Would you not rather I be away, then you needn’t have me nearby since my presence seems to—”

  “You will go directly to your room and not leave it until I give you permission to do so.” He spoke calmly, a little too calmly. “Do not attempt to defy me in this.”

  “You and I seldom see each other. How would you even know if—”

  “There are those among the staff who are unfailingly loyal to me. They know who controls their employment and their futures.”

  He meant to spy on her?

  “Those who might be willing to assist you in thwarting my dictates will find themselves unemployed.”

  She swallowed against the growing dryness in her throat. He would punish the servants if they helped her. A servant let go by an unhappy employer often struggled to find new positions. She could not do that to them. And yet, to be at her uncle’s mercy for something as simple as coming and going would make her already unhappy situation awful.

  “Scott will not accept this.”

  Uncle’s expression only hardened. “Do not for a moment believe I don’t control every aspect of his life. He knows as much and toes the line accordingly. Should you drag him into any rebellion you might be planning, he will suffer for it.”

  “You will punish Scott and the servants as a means of hurting me?” How could he be so heartless?

  “You took my daughter; now you have the audacity to claim a place in the home that was once hers. That I have not tossed you out on your ear is a charitable act for which you ought to be grateful.” Spittle flew from his wrinkled lips as he spoke. His eyes snapped with frigid anger.

  “You don’t need to punish anyone,” she said. “I’ll go to my bedchamber.”

  “And stay there,” he added sharply.

  She nodded.

  Uncle looked past her. “Norwell. Escort the girl to her room.”

  Sarah looked over her shoulder and directly into the face of Uncle’s formidable valet. She had seen him only once before. He worried her then. He rather terrified her now. “I know the way,” she insisted, moving quickly past him.

  She heard Norwell’s steps behind her all the way out the library and up the narrow back stairs. She rushed through the doorway of her little sitting room and slammed the door shut. She leaned against it, praying he would make no attempt to open it. The door didn’t lock without a key, which she didn’t have.

  Long minutes passed. No shadow passed beneath. She heard no footsteps. The doorknob was never rattled. She began to breathe again.

  I cannot stay here. But where would she go? How would she get there? Uncle had vowed to punish anyone who assisted her. She could not do that to the servants. She would not contribute to Scott’s unhappiness.

  She was on her own, but she refused to be defeated.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Harold did his utmost to not ever break his word to Mater. The roads back to Nottinghamshire had been poor at best, impassable in places. His return had taken longer than he’d expected. He arrived at Lampton Park only a few short days ahead of Christmas.

  John, atop the carriage, tipped his hat with a grin before driving in the direction of the stables. He and Harold had come to know each other well. Through him, Harold had learned a lot about his parishioners, those with whom he had not previously interacted. He was returning to the neighborhood better equipped to serve them and, more importantly still, convinced at last that he truly could make the difference he’d always wanted to make. He’d managed it through unconventional means during his time away, and he meant to change a few things about his approach in the parish now that he was returned. Nothing shocking or unseemly. He simply meant to stop trying so hard to be perfect and start being a little more himself. Mater would approve. He felt certain Sarah
would as well. His brothers were a different story altogether. They would think what they would; he would simply endure it. The Lampton Park drawing room was filled near to bursting when he stepped inside. All the family appeared to be present, except Jason and his family. Had the roads given them difficulty as well?

  “Uncle Harry!”

  Caroline. She ran to him, and he scooped her up.

  “Papa and Uncle Flip said you would not be here for Christmas. But Grammy said you promised and so you would be.”

  “And so I am.” He adjusted his arms so he could hold her more comfortably. “It seems to me your papa and Uncle Flip owe Grammy an apology.”

  Caroline nodded firmly. “And they owe you one too.”

  “I think you are correct, Caroline.” He turned to face his oldest brother. “I am most certainly owed an apology.”

  Philip responded with instant drama; he was nothing if not predictable.

  He attempted to get down on his knees but made a show of being thwarted by his close-fitting silk pantaloons. “May I make my pleas for absolution from a standing position? My valet will murder me if I ruin my clothes.”

  “I suspect, Philip, that you are at the mercy of a tyrant,” Harold said. “Perhaps save your breath and apply it to the apology you are likely to owe him when he realizes your partner there”—Harold motioned to sweet little Alice—“has left a smudge on your waistcoat.”

  Philip pulled Alice closer. “If he speaks ill of my darling Alice, I will call him out.”

  Alice smiled up at him, clearly besotted with her flamboyant uncle. Nearby, Corbin and Clara sat watching their daughter, equally pleased looks on their faces, their boy Edmund tucked up beside them.

  Harold looked at Caroline, still in his arms. “Will you serve as your uncle Flip’s second? I intend to back his valet.”

  “I like Wilson,” Caroline said. “He helps me match my ribbons to my dresses when I stay here. He says I’m beautiful.”

  “And so you are, my dear.”

  Caroline beamed at them all. Harold set her on her feet once more, and she skipped off to join Charlie, sitting in a wingback arm chair. Sorrel was lying on a fainting sofa. Marion sat with Marjie and Catherine not far distant. Stanley and Crispin stood near the fireplace.

  “Where’s Mater?” He couldn’t imagine she wouldn’t be present when so much of her family was.

  “She stepped out just before you arrived,” Philip said. “Scott Sarvol came and seemed very anxious to speak with her.”

  “I hope nothing is the matter.”

  Philip took a seat beside Sorrel’s sofa. “All things considered, I would assume something is decidedly the matter.”

  That was certainly cryptic. Harold watched Philip in anticipation of the tremendous amount of information he was clearly leaving out. Philip simply took Sorrel’s hand in his and looked for all the world as if there was nothing more to say.

  “Do stop torturing him, dear.” Sorrel sounded far frailer than she had when Harold had left.

  “No one has seen Sarah Sarvol in two weeks,” Philip said. “And the Sarvol staff is being entirely mum about the whole thing.”

  She’d been missing for a fortnight? Why hadn’t something been done? “Where did Mater meet Scott?”

  Sorrel’s feeble smile was an empathetic one. “The east sitting room.”

  Harold didn’t bother with a bow or nod of farewell but made his way directly there. Scott and Mater sat on a window seat, deep in conversation. Harold’s entrance did not immediately draw their attention. He moved nearer.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Scott said. “Uncle has already dismissed two maids who have attempted to assist her. He will cut me off if I make any attempt to free her. Not that I value the income more than my sister; I am simply trying to accumulate enough savings that I can find us a temporary home of our own until Uncle . . . until Sarvol House is a more welcoming place.”

  Mater’s attention didn’t waver. Harold had always cherished that about her. She offered her undivided attention when someone needed her.

  “Has something happened to make Sarvol House even less welcoming than it has been?” Harold asked.

  They both looked up at him, startled.

  Mater’s face immediately transformed into joy so palpable Harold felt it in his bones. “Harold, dearest.” She rose and stepped to him, putting her arms around him in a firm and loving embrace. “You are home.”

  He returned her hug. She was the sure foundation in all of their lives, especially his. She loved him at times when he struggled to love himself.

  “It is good to be home again.” He kept an arm around Mater but turned his attention to Scott. “What has changed to render you so worried about your sister?”

  Scott rubbed at his temples. “My uncle has confined her to the house these past weeks. None of his arguments against her activities away from home make the least sense, yet he cannot be dissuaded. He has always disliked her, but I suspect he has actually begun to hate her.”

  Harold motioned for Mater to resume her seat. He pulled a chair over and sat as well.

  “What has changed today?” he asked.

  “Today?” Mater apparently hadn’t made the connection Harold had.

  “This has been ongoing for two weeks, yet Scott is here today. Something must have changed.”

  Scott sighed and leaned back against the window frame. “He locked her in her room. His valet must have been involved; our uncle does not get about unaided.”

  Mater looked horrified. “Will no one unlock the door?”

  “There is only one key, and obviously, my uncle has it.”

  Harold’s jaw tensed, freezing to the point of making speech difficult. “Surely the door could be opened with a bit of ingenuity. The blacksmith is particularly fond of your sister; I daresay he would provide you with whatever tools were needed.”

  Scott met his eye, both offense and pleading in his expression. “I swear to you, we are not simply shrugging and saying, ‘Well, isn’t that unfortunate.’ He is cruel to her, and any time she has attempted to take a stand for herself or, early in her ordered confinement, slip out anyway, it has made her situation all the worse. One of the maids accompanied her the first time she left in violation of Uncle’s edict, and that maid was let go without references. A second maid he accused of having distracted him from noticing Sarah’s departure suffered the same fate. Everyone wishes to help her, but we don’t know how to do so without making the situation everlastingly worse.”

  It was a difficult situation, indeed.

  “Is there any means of getting her meals?” Mater asked. “I understand from Caroline that her room is isolated, with only one entrance.”

  “Sarah’s door has a gap underneath. I’ve managed to slide a few things to her. She won’t starve, but neither can she stay locked in there indefinitely. The staff have said that if this goes on much longer, they will find a means of getting through the door regardless of the punishment. I’d rather it not come to that. I am absolutely convinced Uncle would subject every last member of the staff to the same treatment as the unfortunate maids he’s already dismissed. They would be left destitute.”

  “And if you help her, you will be as well,” Mater said.

  He nodded. “Which leaves me in no position to help her.”

  “Oh, Scott.” Mater’s expression fell. “We simply must think of a solution.”

  Scott’s lips pressed in a tight line. Emotion tugged at his features. “I should never have brought her here. I was worried how she would be treated, but I wanted her company. My selfishness put her in this situation.”

  Mater put an arm around Scott and tugged him to her. He laid his head on her shoulder. The gentleman, who was Harold’s age, looked so young in that moment.

  A vicar sees the needs around him. Addresses them. Relieves suffering
.

  But what could Harold do in this situation? What power did he truly have? He could talk with Mr. Sarvol, try to soften his edicts and show him the error of his behavior. But that seemed unlikely to be successful, at least not quickly. Sarah needed an answer now. Scott needed to know his sister was safe. The Sarvol staff needed to be free of the impossible choice they were facing.

  “How can a man be so cruel to his brother’s daughter?” Scott asked, still leaning against Mater. “It is unfathomable.”

  “I wish it weren’t so common. Our own Catherine was subjected to absolute horrors at the hand of her uncle. Arabella Hampton—you’ll remember her—was treated quite unkindly by her relatives.” Mater shook her head in exhausted disapproval. “I suspect our laws contribute to these tragedies. With inheritances designed to benefit one brother and not the other, it is not difficult to see how resentment can grow, extending to the other’s children.”

  “But my uncle was the fortunate brother,” Scott said. “My father did not resent him for his inheritance; at least he never mistreated Bridget out of frustration with his situation.”

  “The resentment does not always flow that way, Scott. Your uncle knew that his estate would pass to his brother’s son since he had no heir of his own. I believe that is what he resented.”

  Scott looked at her more closely, clearly still confused. “Wouldn’t his unkindness be directed only at me if that were the source of his resentment?”

  “I believe it does fuel his treatment of you, which you have admitted is often cruel and demeaning,” Mater said. “But Sarah hasn’t the promise of an inheritance. She is entirely at his mercy, and he knows that.”

  “Which made Sarah particularly vulnerable.” Scott sighed. “He was punishing my father by proxy, choosing the person he could hurt most.”

  “I fear that may be the case.”

  Harold’s heart sank at the truth of Mater’s evaluation. Sarah was the whipping boy for her uncle’s disappointments and miseries.

  “We simply must bring her here,” Mater said.