“Can one be too fair?” With the arch of her brows, she let her smile bloom. “I would say you give her too much credit, but I think that impossible. She deserves all one could possibly spare.”
“She is fast to gather friends. And thankfully, she holds fast to them once they are hers.” He nodded to where Sena laughed and pulled Kate in for a quick embrace, then turned his evergreen eyes back on her. “Yet however good a new friend, they cannot replace one’s family on a day such as this. You must be missing them.”
Away flew her hope that he hadn’t noticed her melancholy. She folded her hands together. She hadn’t the elegant, tapered fingers of cousin Penelope, nor the ability to set the world to rights with a single touch, like Violet and Mamma. Still, it would have been nice to have someone with her today to hold her hand, to assure her she had a place. “It is difficult, but for the best.”
She wouldn’t enjoy herself in Penelope’s company anyway.
Another hum from Mr. Calvert, then he leaned forward slightly. “Might I pray with you, Miss Benton? I have the feeling you are in need of the reassurance of our Father’s arms about you today.”
Her head snapped up as her brows furrowed. Certainly she had requested prayers before—from her reverend, or from trusted, older family members. But never in her life had a young man offered to pray for her of his own volition. How in the world was she to respond to that?
Mr. Calvert inclined his head. “I do not mean to make you uncomfortable. I will simply—”
“It is quite fine.” Why, after all, should prayer be a means of discomfort? She prayed daily. Religiously, one might say. She forced herself to relax. “I would appreciate it.”
Nodding, he glanced at the rest of the assembly, who paid them no mind at all, then turned back to her. He didn’t bow his head or clasp his hands, only let his eyes slide shut. Lark didn’t even do that—how could she, when she glimpsed the emotion that washed over his face? Perfect peace, perfect contentment. As if by merely praying, he were…home.
“Dear Father in heaven,” he began in a whisper she could scarcely hear, “I thank You and praise You for this holy day and all it represents. For sending Your precious Son to come as a babe and walk among us, so ultimately He could become our propitiation and our salvation. I thank You for this most holy remembrance, and for the chance to share it with friends old and new, and with my dear sister.”
Here he paused, drew in a long breath, and tilted his head as if listening to something at a great distance. “Lord, we come before You now to ask that You pour out Your peace and assurance upon Miss Benton. She understandably feels the loneliness that comes of being away from her own family, among friends only new, at this time; but You, Father, have been with her always, and are with her still. Help her to feel Your presence, now more than ever, and to see Your hand moving in these strange and unexpected circumstances that have brought her to our city. Almighty Father, heal the wounds on her heart, on her spirit, and on her self, that she might see the intrinsic value You have bestowed within her. Reveal to her the purpose You have so perfectly ordained for her life. We ask this in the name of Your only begotten Son, Christ Jesus.”
Tears stung again, but they were different this time, and she made no effort to clear them. She echoed his “Amen” and then let her breath shudder. “Thank you, Mr. Calvert. That was…that means more than you could know. Or perhaps you can, as you seemed to know exactly what to pray.”
“Forgive me if I sounded too familiar.” A smile flitted across his face, ending in a hint of a grimace. He repositioned his leg, set his cane beside him. “Though I confess, you seem less a stranger to me than you are. Perhaps it is only because I can empathize with your feeling of being away from home, uncertain about the future.”
“Perhaps.” She ignored the shiver of awareness those words inspired and watched Will and Mark charge their miniature cavalry pieces into heated battle on the rug in front of their parents. Then she looked at her companion again. “Sena mentioned you attended King William’s School. My brother did as well. Wiley Benton.”
“I am afraid I was at Yale College when he arrived, though Mr. Randel mentioned him often before…”
Before the war, and their break. He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. Lark could read the pain of it in his eyes. At least until he shook it off and refreshed his smile.
“Miss Randel mentioned your brother and her father served together in the army, is that correct?”
“He was in Mr. Randel’s unit, yes, both Wiley and…” She pressed her lips together against Emerson’s name.
“Ah. Your betrothed, perchance?”
Lark snapped her spine straight and lifted her chin. “My former betrothed, Mr. Calvert.”
“Of course.” The man looked to be fighting back a smile, which made no good sense at all. “Is that how you met him? Through your brother?”
And what made him think Emerson was a topic she wanted to discuss? Yet he asked with such gentleness, as if he truly cared about the answer. She sighed. “I have always known him. His family’s plantation is adjacent to ours.”
“Ah.” Again, such enlightenment, and he nodded as if that shed brilliant light upon her situation. “I suppose it was a natural and wellreceived alliance, then. It is always good to have bonds with one’s closest neighbors.”
Well. That might indeed explain Emerson’s desire to marry her. She had yet to find a better reason. “Yes, I…undoubtedly.”
His lips twitched again. “Nothing to do with fonder emotions, then? Nothing to do with love?”
Hardly an appropriate line of conversation with a man she’d only met once before. She turned her face to the window, though she didn’t look out it.
Yet…she might have met Mr. Calvert only once, but he seemed no less familiar to her than Emerson. “Nothing at all. One can hardly love a stranger, can one? And that is all he ever wanted to be.”
Somehow his gaze snagged hers again. What was it his eyes put her in mind of? Summer on the plantation. Deep green, mature life, blanketed by warmth. Not the spark and leap of flame, but the steady, whelming heat of the Lord’s season of growth.
He shook his head. “I cannot fathom it. How could he possibly want to remain a stranger with you?”
Heat suffused her cheeks again. Was he flirting with her, or only being kind? She had no practice in discerning the difference. It sounded little like the kind of flirtation her friends and brother employed, but she couldn’t be sure. She breathed a laugh. “You would have to ask him that, sir.”
Mr. Calvert grinned. “When he comes banging on Mr. Randel’s door in search of you, I shall.”
She opened her mouth to assure him that particular event would never occur, but Sena and Kate descended upon them, effectively putting an end to the conversation.
Just as well. It was an unsuitable conversation at any rate.
“Happy Christmas, Lark.” Kate sat beside her and smiled. She hesitated a moment, gnawing on her lip, then held out a small, wrapped parcel. “I have brought you a small token of welcome.”
Eyes flying to the gift, Lark felt the stain of embarrassment yet again. “Oh, you ought not have, Kate. I have nothing for anyone—”
“Nonsense. It was just an extra something I had lying around my secretaire. Here, please.”
Fearing refusal would damage this overture of friendship, Lark accepted the package and guessed it to be some sort of book. “Thank you. It was very sweet of you to think of me.” She carefully untied the string and folded back the paper, smiling when she saw the leatherbound journal. Her own had been left at home in the haste of her departure, and already she missed the chance to sit and write her thoughts. “Oh, ’tis perfect.”
Kate sighed in seeming relief. “I’m glad you like it. My diary is a critical part of my prayer life, and I thought perhaps, with all you are going through…”
“Yes. Thank you.” She glanced from Kate to Mr. Calvert. All this talk of faith and prayer—Lark had always
considered herself a faithful Christian. But perhaps she still had something to learn in that regard, something to make her beam with such certainty, even when all was in turmoil.
How strange to find such an example of the Lord’s goodness in two people she would once have considered the enemy.
A knock sounded from the front door, and a moment later Mrs. Green entered with a frown. “It looks to be more wassailers. I cannot imagine why they would come on the holy day itself.”
Sena stood, pulling Kate and Lark up with her. “Well, we shall do our Christian duty regardless of their belatedness. Come, ladies, let us purchase some of their wassail.”
No one either objected or stood to go with them, so they three headed for the door. Lark had never much cared for the wassail the poor usually brought around, but everyone knew one was obliged to buy it whenever it was offered. A way to offer charity, to have the satisfaction of knowing the children of the wassailers would eat the next day, without offending anyone’s pride with alms.
Sena took a moment to liberate a few coins from a drawer before opening the door. She jingled them together and revealed the triangular pieces with a shake of her head. “I thought Papa had exchanged all these fractioned reales for Chalmers’s shillings. Ah well. Hopefully the wassailers will not mind.”
She peeked out the window, and her smile went from polite to brilliant. She threw open the door. “Alice! Come in, come in. I thought perhaps I had not been at home when you stopped on your wassailing… but you have no wassail.”
The redhead stepped inside with a strained smile, her children bundled up and huddled against her. She glanced at Lark, Kate, then steadied her gaze on Sena. “Hugh has been sick. Just a cold, but it has kept us in, and too busy to make any. But you had said to be sure and stop, and—I would not to have intruded on your Christmas, except that I was afraid you would worry that I had not come by.”
Given the circles under Alice’s eyes, Lark was not surprised when Sena studied her friend intently. “Something is wrong. Something more than a cold. The children?”
“No, no, they are well, other than the sniffles.” With a sigh, Alice adjusted Callie’s woolen hat.
“Your husband?”
Lark’s heart twisted within her when she saw the tears flooding Alice’s eyes.
The woman’s nostrils flared. “’Tis but the delays from this terrible weather. He ought to have returned weeks ago. I kept myself from worrying until now, but he is always home for Christmas, always.” She looked down, turned partially toward the door. “The best I can hope for is that his ship is iced into harbor. The worst…”
“Alice.” Kate stepped forward and placed a hand on her arm. “I will redouble my prayers on your behalf.”
Alice wiped at her damp cheeks and offered a halfhearted smile. “Thank you for that, sweet Kate. And for indulging me in my need to see a few friendly faces before I go to dinner with my husband’s family and listen to all their worries. I had better make haste, though. Sena.” They clung to each other for a moment. “Thank you for everything.”
“Nonsense, I have done nothing. Try not to worry, Alice. All will be well.”
Looking far from convinced, Alice and her silent children left again. Sena looked none too convinced herself when she turned back around. She shook her head. “I cannot think what she will do if he is away much longer. During the war he did well privateering, but since then… I think his last shipment barely brought in enough to cover expenses. She has begun taking in mending.”
Mr. Randel stepped to Lark’s side, though she had no idea how long he had been in the entryway, how much he might have heard. Enough, given the lines around his mouth. “Do you think her parents would take her and the children in until Mr. Mattimore returns?”
At that, Sena loosed a scoffing laugh. “You know her father as well as I, Papa. Matty’s may try, but they are no better off.” Her expression changed into a plea. “Papa…if her pride would suffer it, have we a position to offer her? Just until Matty comes home.”
Mr. Randel sighed and lifted a hand to rub at his forehead. “I wish we could, my dear, but our household budget—”
“I will give my pin money to the cause.” Sena batted her lashes. “And all of it I have been saving for a new gown. Please, Papa.”
Though he smiled, Mr. Randel shook his head. “Sena, it will take more than one young lady’s pin money to make a difference in this situation.”
Lark sucked in a breath, her mouth opening before she quite knew why. “What about two young ladies’ pin money?”
He arched a brow her way. “I applaud your generosity, Miss Benton, but you do not even know Mrs. Mattimore.”
“I know enough.” Enough to admire her for her decisions and to pray she had the strength to make her own in like fashion. “Please, sir, if it would make it feasible, then consider it. My parents sent me with far too much, and…and I cannot help but wonder where I would be had they not supported me in my decision to leave Williamsburg for a while. I should hope someone would have helped me. Can I do less, here?”
His sigh sounded like capitulation. “We shall see. I will have to speak with Mrs. Green before I can agree to anything. Perhaps if we pinch our pennies elsewhere, and if she will agree…well, we shall see.”
The lamps seemed to brighten with Christmas cheer.
Chapter Nine
Edwinn looked up from his book when he heard the knock upon the outer door. Undoubtedly it would be Sena for Kate, Miss Benton probably with her. Rarely did anyone else visit. The light footfalls of their housekeeper sounded in the hall, and Edwinn debated for a moment whether he would join the young ladies today. He always enjoyed their company, but he had been in a strange sort of mood since Christmas, and he had no choice but to attribute it to the hours he and Kate had spent at Randel House.
They had shared a meal with the family, had lingered afterward, and while Kate had seemed perfectly at home and was treated with the highest warmth, Master Randel had not once spoken to him, had not even looked his direction. Obviously nothing had been forgiven. Why, then, the invitation at all?
He would probably not be the best company for his sister and her friends today. Better to stay with his book and perhaps take the time to pray a bit more.
Mrs. Haslip stepped into the room. “A guest for you, Mr. Edwinn.”
“For me?” He frowned as he placed his marker in his book. “Who is it?”
“Mr. Randel.” She smiled. “Shall I show him in?”
“Randel?” Edwinn set the book upon a table and stood. “Yes, of course.”
A moment later the guest blustered into the room, whipping off his navy riding coat and tossing it haphazardly onto a chair. Edwinn straightened his spine. “Master Randel. What an unexpected surprise. Would you sit?”
“‘Mister’ will suffice, Calvert, as it has been years since you were my pupil. And no, thank you.” Randel marched over to the window, toyed with his watch chain, and then spun back around. “It is Martha. The babe is coming.”
“Ah.” Edwinn lowered himself back to his chair. “Is all well?”
“Is all ever well in a birth?” Randel shoved a hand through his hair and strode over to the mantel. “How is one ever to tell, with all that moaning and groaning, and being forbidden from the room? I had to escape before I went mad.”
“And you came here?” Edwinn winced, especially when his guest spun on him. “I did not mean…I am only surprised. You have not sought me out since I came home to Annapolis, except to tell me to go to England.”
This time Randel winced. “Wounds were still fresh. Edwinn, I… I fear for my Martha, and I know no one as faithful as you. I was hoping you would pray for her. Mark’s birth was so difficult—what if this one…?”
Edwinn stood again and hobbled over to his former teacher, his once-friend, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Of course I will pray, but there is no reason to fear the worst. She is a strong woman.”
“That matters little in th
ese things.” Randel pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a wobbling breath. “My apologies. I should not burst in here spewing fear at you, expecting you to do anything for us, when I have treated you as I have these last few years.”
His hand slipped back down to his side. Was he apologizing for bursting in…or for that treatment? Swallowing hard, Edwinn wished he had brought his cane so he might lean on it. “I harbor no ill will against you. In your eyes, I aligned myself with tyranny.”
Randel narrowed his eyes. “And I maintain your reasoning was poor and your decision faulty.”
“For you it would have been.” Edwinn let his lips twitch up. “For me, it was the only decision I could make in good conscience. I still believe revolution was not the answer—that said, this is my country, and I pray blessing upon it.”
The breath Randel loosed left him looking deflated. “Your ability to do so is what brings me here. I cannot grasp how you would manage to pray so diligently for those who have treated you ill, but I know you do exactly that. And so I come, though it leaves me feeling as though I ask for charity.”
“Charity is the greatest of virtues, greater even than faith and hope. Would you deprive me of the chance to exercise it?”
A smile tugged the corners of Randel’s lips up, and the light in his eyes changed. “You always excelled at debate.” The beginnings of a smile did not last long. He waved at the room. “I suspect it will be of no assistance in your current dilemma though. The government is not feeling kindly toward Tories these days. You ought not be surprised if Calvert Hall is never returned.”
Edwinn limped back to his seat with as much grace as he could force into his aching leg. “I am prepared for that possibility. Though it pains me to think of my family’s legacy lost to us forever, it does not pierce me nearly so much as the thought that I shall live out my life friendless.” He sat, arched his brows. “I suppose you will tell me it is but the consequence of my decisions.”
His guest followed him and took a seat on the couch, though the anxious jittering of his knee made Edwinn think it was only out of politeness. Randel sighed. “It is that. But I daresay if you are patient, you shall begin to see a softening from old friends who realize you have not changed. I confess, Calvert, such constancy is unexpected in a man of such youth.”
Love Finds You in Annapolis, Maryland Page 10