by Lily George
Becky was surprised at how disappointing Paul’s answer was. So jesting in nature. On the other hand, what did she expect him to say? Paul made no secret of the reason for his visit today. And he never spoke about why he’d avoided church in the past. So why did it matter now? Did she really expect him to change in the space of one morning?
Even so, ’twas rather discouraging.
Susannah bustled in, squeezing beside Becky in the pew and wrapping her arms around both sisters as far as they would go. “Ah, this is good. Seeing both of my sisters here again.”
“Is Juliet all right?” Becky gasped out the words as Susannah tightened her embrace.
“Yes, she will be fine. The children’s teacher, Miss Eugenia, has taken her under her wing. And there’s a child there about her age—the daughter of one of our servants—who is quiet and well behaved. They’re sitting together now. Hopefully little Mary will be a good influence on Juliet and not the other way ’round.” Susannah released her hold on Nan and Becky and leaned over. “So how on earth is it that Paul is here at Bible study today?” she whispered.
“Juliet convinced him.” Becky pitched her voice to match her sister’s. “She refused to come today unless he accompanied us.”
“And Paul gave in? How marvelous.” Susannah sat back, flicking a quick, assessing glance over Paul. “Perhaps being an uncle will do him a world of good.”
“Yes, perhaps.” She didn’t want to talk about Paul any longer with her sisters, nor did she enjoy discussing Juliet’s faults. Somehow, it felt rather disloyal to discuss Paul’s questionable past or to catalog Juliet’s flaws with her family. Why, her sisters had no knowledge of the whole of Juliana’s story. And without that crucial information, anything that was said seemed judgmental and even petty.
Growing up, especially after Mama and Papa passed away, she and her two sisters had been rather like Robinson Crusoe, shipwrecked on a strange island. Together they had weathered the storm that was life with Uncle Arthur. Although, in truth, Susannah had always been the leader and likely sheltered her two younger sisters from some of the more unpleasant aspects of their uncle’s avaricious nature.
The balance of their relationship had subtly shifted over the past year. Of course her eldest sister’s marriage meant that Susannah would focus more on her husband and his needs, and the running of his household. After Susannah left—yes, that was when their triumvirate collapsed. Her sisters were as dear to her as ever, but she couldn’t deny that the three of them had drifted apart since Susannah had married, and there was an emptiness in her heart that was now being filled by Juliet and Paul.
She settled back in the pew, focusing on Daniel as he strode over to the altar. Good—Bible study and prayer meeting was about to begin. What a relief. Though she loved seeing both of her sisters, ’twas unsettling to dwell on this change in their connections. She loved her sisters fiercely still, but she was compelled to defend and explain Paul and Juliet as she would defend and explain Nan and Susannah to outsiders.
In the space of a few weeks, her employer and her charge were becoming, well, not precisely dear to her, but she felt a strong sense of loyalty to them both. And that, surely, was to be expected after spending so much time in their company. All nursemaids must feel that sensation of allegiance. It must signify nothing more than this—that she was becoming good at her job.
With a sigh, Becky turned her full attention to Daniel. This new and confounding development must be placed to one side, to be examined later. Much later.
In fact, perhaps she shouldn’t examine it at all. If it was her romantic nature rearing its head again, ’twould be best if she never thought about allegiances and loyalties and family history, and simply focused on doing her job and doing it well.
’Twas what God called her to do, after all.
* * *
Paul found it disconcerting to see Daniel, of all people, leading a prayer meeting. Many times Paul had helped his friend out of gaming halls, or aided and abetted his life of decadence. Though Daniel had given up drinking even before marrying Susannah, when you knew a fellow your whole life and then saw him make an about-turn in morality, ’twas rather discombobulating, to say the very least.
What would a fellow do for love? Paul stifled a smirk. Well, Ruth had never asked him to give up drinking or to delve deeply into religion. No, she’d tolerated his dissolution as a lady of quality would, by merely looking the other way. He’d had but a few deep conversations with Ruth, centering mostly upon how they would manage Juliana once Ruth became mistress of Kellridge. Even knowing she would be there to help him as he undertook the management of his ancestral home had been a great comfort in the months after Papa had died.
Would he have given up those things, if Ruth had asked him? Paul twitched uncomfortably in the pew.
Well, it didn’t signify what he would have done because she’d never asked. And she died before they were wed, so his penchant for drinking and for cards had never become an issue between them.
Paul switched his attention to Daniel. Now, there was a fellow to whom matrimony seemed a blessing. By all appearances, Daniel didn’t miss his old corrupt life. If anything, he always was in a maddening good humor now, captivated by his pretty bride and fully immersed in his new life as master of Goodwin. Since their marriage, life at Daniel’s estate looked as though it had improved dramatically. And his newfound faith gave the impression of sincerity.
So then by these calculations, marriage could indeed be a partnership, one that could make a fellow turn away from what some people would consider sinful activities.
Paul folded his arms over his chest and stretched his booted feet out a bit. Beside him, Becky flicked one of her quick, appraising glances at his person, and then turned away. He was fidgeting too much. He must calm his roiling thoughts, for his restlessness disturbed Becky. She would take him to task later, surely.
Better to focus on Daniel. He could pay attention to what his friend said without really absorbing any of it.
“We chose as our study today the Gospel according to John, fifteenth chapter, fifth verse. ‘I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing.’ Let’s discuss this then, shall we? What does the Lord want us to know, and how can this apply to our own lives, as we go about our daily round?”
The crowd in the little church began to buzz with murmurs, as people turned to each other in the pews to thrash out the verse.
“Let us talk among ourselves—gather in little groups if you wish—and in a quarter of an hour, we shall congregate again and have a full dialogue.” Daniel closed the Bible and beckoned to Susannah, who joined him at the altar for the debate. Nan leaped up and trotted obediently after her elder sister.
That left just Becky sitting beside him in the pew. She gave a sudden, sharp movement, turning to him with something like desperation etched on her pretty face. “We don’t have to discuss it together. Truly, we don’t, if it makes you uncomfortable.”
Paul shrugged. If he made too big of a matter out of this, it would indicate that he cared about it. He could converse a little with Becky and not be challenged in any way by this Bible study. “Nay, let us ponder these questions together. Why not?” He drew closer to her and placed his left arm across the top of the pew.
“Well, I don’t have much that’s clever to say about it,” Becky admitted. “Only that I truly enjoy this passage from the book of John. ‘Without me ye can do nothing.’ I find it comforting.”
Paul bit back a bitter laugh that surged up out of nowhere. “To me it sounds like the Lord is rather taking too much upon Himself.”
Becky sat back in her seat with a defeated air. “I knew you would find this offensive. Shall we discuss something else instead?”
This time Paul couldn’t suppress the laugh, but it
wasn’t a bitter one. Becky could be genuinely amusing. The sound of his mirth brought quick, seeking glances from those gathered at the altar, but he merely gave them a little wave. No need to be startled, gentle folk.
“Hark now, Becky-girl, a debate occurs when two opposing parties have a good thrashing out. Would you prefer that I simper and tell you pretty little fibs, and agree with everything you say?”
“’Twould be a sight pleasanter if you did,” Becky muttered.
Paul grinned. “That wouldn’t be a debate. It would be flattering and almost coy, but not a debate. Now tell me, in truth, why you find this passage comforting.”
“Well...”
“Go on. I promise not to laugh.” It was no fun to offend Becky. He just wanted to engage her. She was such stimulating company when she connected to him. The only way he could forge that connection to her, it seemed, was through argument or teasing. There had to be another way.
“Very well.” Becky turned in her seat, fixing her eyes on him in a manner that a lesser fellow might find exhilarating. “You see, when Papa and Mama died, we stayed with Uncle Arthur. His household was vastly unpleasant, I can assure you. Despite the hardships we endured, my sisters and I remained constant in our faith and took care of one another because we trusted that the Lord had a place for us, and a lesson to teach us.”
Yes, he had heard rumors about their time with their uncle Arthur. In fact, he’d met their uncle, and fleeced him at cards, many a time. “May I ask what lessons you learned?”
“That a life of dissolution corrupts more than just oneself. Though my uncle was the one who drank and played cards, he did so with our money. And his actions brought shame and dishonesty to his entire house. We learned that everything we do touches another person. Our actions affect everyone. And that simple lesson had a profound influence on how we would order our lives.” She sat back, as though abashed by all she said. “So there you have it.”
Paul ruminated on her words in silence. There really wasn’t much to say. She had been through a difficult time, and it had transformed her. That was a common enough experience, wasn’t it? After all, Ruth’s death had changed him.
He turned off his thoughts with a snap. “Well, that is a thoughtful response,” he admitted. “I must say, though, that you haven’t precisely tied it to the verse.”
Becky turned back to him, the light of challenge showing in the tilt of her chin. “Well, then. Apart from Him, I can do nothing at Kellridge. All I do for Juliet—it’s—it’s a calling, you see.” She stumbled over her last words and her cheeks turned a becoming shade of pink.
“By that measure, then I should consider that my life at Kellridge is ordered by the Lord, too. That everything I do is because of Him.” What a fantastic, and troubling, thought.
Becky gave a quick, decisive nod of her head. “Precisely so.” Then she fell silent.
The crowd broke up, and Susannah and Nan returned to the pew. Daniel directed the discussion from the altar, a most lively debate that nearly everyone in the room took up.
Everyone save him and Becky.
If he were to believe the verse, then he must surrender control to a higher power. He must believe that he could do nothing without the Lord, which was an altogether new experience and manner of thinking. He’d never thought of God as a being that gave, only as one that took away. His faith had tottered for some time, to be sure, but after He took Ruth and Juliana, Paul had no more use for any such “higher power.”
If God gave as well as took away, if everything done in life was done through Him...why, that was a revelation.
God had given him many things. Kellridge. Good friends. A large family of brothers and sisters who hardly visited but loved him just the same. Vast material wealth. And even good health. He touched the scar that zigzagged his cheek. He could have been hurt much, much worse in that carriage accident, yet it never occurred to him to be grateful ere now.
God had even given him Juliana back, in a way, in the form of his rebellious, troublesome, but altogether sweet niece. His charge. His responsibility.
God had sent him a loving, caring nursemaid who stood up to him and sought out the best for her charge, despite his hesitations.
This was hard. Paul shook his head to clear his thoughts. ’Twas rather like learning Latin and finally being able to read the Aeneid in Virgil’s mother tongue. From gibberish to clarity.
An entirely new world, one filled with questions and discoveries and answers was opening to him, if he would only push through the threshold.
Chapter Thirteen
“If you’ll pardon me, sir,” Parker interrupted with a polite cough. “We need to discuss your impending trip to town.”
Paul jerked back to reality. The vistas of possibility still beckoned, even as one went about his daily routine. The strange feeling that had overcome him in the chapel the previous day still clung, like a dream that would not let him go once he awakened. Even so, he needed to pay heed to Parker. He must not get wrapped up in philosophical and religious questions to the point that he was absent from his duties.
“Yes. London.” He heaved a sigh. Somehow, travel had lost all its glamour. “So we have a new buyer for my shipping shares, then? Not that fellow Jacob Gail, I hope. That parvenu spends his money like water even as he apes at being an ordinary chap in the House of Commons. George warned me of him. Rumor has it that Gail illegally traffics in slaves. You know how my father felt about that, and I uphold that standard as well.”
“No, this is a different fellow, by the name of Smith.” Parker straightened in his seat. “Willing to take all your shares and at the price you dictated.”
“Well, I do think it better to sell. I’ve been overseeing things from afar for too long, and as you know, my family has remained steadfast in precisely managing our shares. Knowing each passenger, the cargo and so forth. I have too much to attend to here. Are you certain he’s willing to meet my price? I won’t sell it for a farthing less, you know.” Paul rocked back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. Something about this business did not set him at ease. Gail had backed off too hurriedly when Paul had turned him away. The speed with which a new seller had appeared—and one willing to meet his terms, too—was rather uncanny.
“Indeed, Mr. Smith has agreed to your terms. I don’t know much of him, but if you would prefer, I can travel to London in your stead to oversee matters.”
“No, indeed. I shall deal with the matter myself.” He wanted to see who this mysterious Mr. Smith might be.
“Shall I send the word then? Will you be in London soon?” Parker gave him an expectant glance over the top of his spectacles.
Paul hesitated for a brief moment. Going to London meant leaving Kellridge behind, and with it, Becky and Juliet. A week or so ago he would have leaped at this chance. In fact, he’d done his carriage—not to mention his face—a grave disservice by rushing off as he did to avoid the very beings who now beckoned him to stay. And yet, business was business. Assuming this offer was authentic, he could net the kind of profit that would allow him to do just as he pleased for the rest of his life.
Surely that was worth a quick jaunt to London. Becky could manage very well on her own, couldn’t she?
“Yes. Send word to this Smith fellow at once. I shall leave on the morrow, for the carriage is finally repaired.” Paul glanced over at the mantel clock. ’Twas seven o’clock. Becky would be upstairs, readying Juliet for bed. If he didn’t end this interview, he would be late for his meeting with her. “Is that all?” He employed the brisk tone he used whenever he was ready to be done with any matter of business.
“Yes sir. I shall tell your solicitor to expect you in a few days’ time. Godspeed.” Parker gathered the sheets of foolscap and the ledger book he always brought to their meetings, and with a respectful bow, quit the room.
Paul
ran his thumbnail over the blotter on his desk. Somehow, the prospect of telling Becky that he was leaving was rather daunting, yet this wasn’t a task he could put off.
He wasn’t afraid of telling her. Not really. Yet, somehow, the thought of seeing disappointment reflected in those lovely eyes of hers...and what if she grew overwhelmed with her charge while he was gone? Suppose she had enough and quit while he was in London? Any other servant would be replaceable. In the space of a few weeks, Becky Siddons had become indispensable to him and to Kellridge Hall.
Besides, he had given his word that he would help her. He couldn’t very well go back on his word now.
There was nothing to do but to go through with it, unpleasant though it might be. Paul stood and stretched. He needed to give instructions to his man to have his trunks packed. Though he needn’t worry about packing clothes for London. He had plenty enough at the townhome in Grosvenor Square.
He took the stairs two at a time and knocked gently at the nursery sitting-room door. Becky opened it, her finger to her lips. “She’s already fallen asleep,” she murmured.
“Excellent. So no more getting in and out of bed a dozen times before falling asleep.” Paul entered the room and closed the door behind him. “That is progress.”
“Well, it’s progress for now. We shall see if it lasts.” Becky settled into her familiar comfortable chair and pulled out her sewing. He’d rarely seen her without some bit of needlework in her hands, usually for the benefit of his niece. ’Twas nice to see Becky always working to improve things for his charge.
He could remark upon that at length, but while it was a cheerful topic of discussion, he really did need to tell her about London. And that strange, foggy feeling wouldn’t leave him. ’Twas almost pulling him back, as it were, holding him fast. If one believed in God, what would Paul’s purpose in this life be? Could he really do everything without a higher power overseeing his every movement?