by Barker, Ann
The only other occupant of the wagon, apart from Mr and Mrs Crossley themselves, was their younger son, Elijah, a boy of about 14. ‘My daughter Anna is lately married to the son of a farmer on the other side of the valley,’ Mrs Crossley explained. ‘David is engaged to be married to Miss Welland, the doctor’s daughter, so he is eating his dinner with the Wellands today.’
‘Will young Mr Crossley and his bride come to live at the farm with you when they are married?’ Michael asked.
‘Yes, they will,’ Mrs Crossley answered, ‘and very pleased I will be to have another woman about the house again. I’ve missed our Anna, for there’s no denying that apart from a skittish year or two a little while back, she’s been a good help to me.’
The Crossley farm proved to be neat and immaculately kept, from the well-swept farmyard to the spotless farmhouse. ‘Miss Leicester has eaten with us before, and I trust this will not be your last visit with us, Mr Buckleigh,’ said Mrs Crossley. ‘Or would you prefer me to call you “Reverend”?’
As Michael got down from the wagon, he assured his hostess that he would much prefer to be called Mr Buckleigh. He then turned and helped Miss Leicester down, and offered her his arm so that they could go into the house.
The meal was not yet ready, so Mr Crossley volunteered to show the visitors around the farmyard. Miss Leicester was sensibly shod and, moreover, disclosed that she came from a farming family, so she was happy to accompany them and demonstrated her knowledge by her comments. After this, they all went inside and Mrs Crossley invited them into the parlour, a handsome, spotlessly clean and tidy room, so that they might partake of sherry. Michael was a little surprised that a farming family should have such a beverage in stock, but Mrs Crossley explained that it had been given to them by Lord Ilam.
‘I was his foster mother from when he was a baby. I do believe that he could not be more attentive if I was his real mother,’ she declared. ‘Indeed, sir, if I were to tell you how it all came about, you would be so shocked that …’ Her voice tailed away and, when she spoke again, it was to ask Michael about his own family.
‘I am very much hoping that my sister will be coming to live with me soon,’ he said, when he had explained how his stepfather wanted to go abroad. ‘We are not a wealthy family and I am anxious to be able to take my turn in supporting her.’
‘But surely your sister will be looking for a position as a governess or a companion,’ suggested Miss Leicester, rejoining them. For the past few minutes, she had been standing with Mr Crossley allowing him to point something out to her from the window.
‘My sister’s health does not permit that,’ Michael answered. ‘It will always be my duty as well as my pleasure and privilege to look after her.’ Miss Leicester raised her brows, but he did not enlarge upon his statement.
‘I believe every big brother wants to look after his sister,’ said Mrs Crossley comfortably. ‘David was very protective of Anna when she was still living at home.’
‘But women can sometimes almost be turned into children or invalids by the overprotective attitude of their menfolk,’ Miss Leicester maintained. ‘How many spoiled young women does one see these days? They are indulged from the very beginning of their lives, pampered, and under-educated until all they are fit for is lying about on sofas reading, and enumerating their complaints to anyone who will listen.’
‘Someone has been reading Miss Wollstonecraft’s writings,’ Michael murmured.
‘Oh, have you read A Vindication of the Rights of Woman?’ Miss Leicester asked eagerly. ‘We must discuss it together some time.’
‘I would be honoured,’ Michael answered. ‘However, I must disabuse you of one misconception: my sister really does need looking after.’
The teacher smiled and nodded. ‘As you say,’ she replied, but she did not look convinced.
After the meal was over, Miss Leicester expressed an interest in seeing part of the farmyard again, and Elijah went with her and his father. Michael was going to accompany them, but received an unmistakable signal from Mrs Crossley to stay behind. ‘I was telling you something about Lord Ilam,’ she said. ‘Normally I wouldn’t disclose private things to a stranger, but you being a man of the cloth, I know that you can be trusted to be discreet.’
‘Naturally I will,’ Michael answered, ‘but you must not feel obliged to tell me.’
‘No, I will do so, because it will help you in your dealings with Lord Ilam and Lord Ashbourne if you know how things stand. The previous Lord Ashbourne was a wicked man, and he sent his grandson, the present Lord Ilam, who was then only Master Montgomery, to be brought up by us. The lad’s father was not permitted to come near him most of the time. As a result, the two became estranged. It’s only since the present Lord Ashbourne’s second marriage that they have begun to get on better.’
‘I see,’ Michael responded.
‘Mr Lusty would never have brought them together. Who knows, you might be the one to help father and son to become properly reconciled.’
‘I?’ Michael exclaimed, his brows soaring.
Mrs Crossley stared at him, lost for words. Then, as if aware that she ought to say something, she muttered a few words about his being a new clergyman to the area, with different ideas to offer. Michael was left with the feeling that that was not at all what she had really been thinking. A few moments later, the farmyard party returned; soon after that, they had tea. Once that was consumed, Mr Crossley went out to prepare the wagon, whilst Michael and Miss Leicester said goodbye to their hostess.
‘It’s been a pleasure,’ said Mrs Crossley, as her guests thanked her; ‘a real pleasure.’ But it was Michael’s hand that she squeezed most tightly, and it was at Michael that she directed her warmest smiles. In just such a way, he thought to himself, she might have smiled at a favourite nephew. He thought of what she had said and hoped that he would be able to help in some way.
They reached Miss Leicester’s house first, and Michael got down as well, insisting that he would walk the rest of the way home. ‘It’s only a step and if I’m not to end up as broad as I’m long after that excellent meal, I really ought to get some exercise,’ he said.
Miss Leicester invited Michael to come inside for a few moments. ‘I want to apologize for the way in which I seemed to suggest that your sister ought to be earning her living,’ she said frankly. ‘Of course, you know her needs much better than I do. Sometimes, though, young women can be much more capable than we suppose.’
‘I assure you that Theodora does as much as she can,’ Michael replied briefly, for he had not been entirely pleased at the way in which Miss Leicester had been so ready to imply that his sister was just being idle.
‘Perhaps she might like to help me in the school,’ Miss Leicester suggested. Then she looked rueful. ‘Oh dear, there I go again. I do apologize, Michael. Please say that I am forgiven!’
‘Yes, of course,’ he answered, a little surprised for he had forgotten that he had agreed that they should use one another’s Christian names.
‘“Yes, of course, Juliana”,’ she corrected him, with a laugh.
‘I’ll try to remember,’ he replied, ‘although I’m sure you understand that Christian names must only be used between us privately. And now I must be going.’
‘Oh surely you could stay for tea,’ she insisted. ‘Otherwise I shall think that you are still annoyed with me.’
‘Very well,’ he agreed, not wanting to hurt her, but feeling slightly manipulated. He remained for about half an hour, talking mostly about books. As he left, he agreed to go into school the next day in order to give the older children some religious instruction, but he resolved to be alone with her as little as possible.
Chapter Six
The following Sunday’s service proved to be much more satisfactory as far as the residents of Illingham were concerned. No Mr Lusty appeared to steal the new curate’s thunder; consequently Michael was able to conduct worship in his own way. The vestry proved to be an ideal place in which to
store his vestments and, although Miss Leicester volunteered to iron them, there was not the least need. It did seem to Michael that the teacher looked a little disappointed about this, but as he had had experience of ironing his own robes and had not found the task to be congenial in any way, he decided that he must have been mistaken in this impression.
He was glad that as this was the third parish in which he had served, any nervousness that he might have been feeling had nothing to do with his conduct of worship. He had no fears that he would fall over his apparel, drop the chalice, or set fire to his sleeves, for instance, and, indeed, none of these disasters occurred to spoil the morning. The sermon that he had prepared late into the night made a good impression, and he tried hard not to feel gratified at the number of people who said how much better everything had been than on the previous Sunday. That would indeed have been falling prey to pride.
It would have been almost impossible not to notice the number of attentive female faces that were directed at him as he stood in the pulpit. Miss Leicester, with some of the older pupils sitting beside her, nodded seriously as he made each point, but it was Miss Granby who threatened to take his concentration away, as she listened with her head tilted slightly to one side, her beautiful face framed charmingly with a straw bonnet trimmed with pink flowers and ribbons, and lined with pink silk.
Sir Lyle and Lady Belton and Amelia were not here on this occasion, and Michael remembered that the baronet had declared that they must not be disloyal to their own parish church. Their absence at least made it possible for him to accept an invitation to dine with Mr and Mrs and Miss Granby without fearing that he would be disappointing the other family.
‘You are a fine preacher, sir,’ said Mr Granby when they were sitting at table. ‘You pose an intelligent argument without making your premise too difficult for plain folk to understand.’
‘Take care, Papa, you will be making Mr Buckleigh conceited,’ said Evangeline, with a saucy look at the clergyman.
‘Evangeline, dearest,’ murmured Mrs Granby.
Michael darted a look at Evangeline’s face, which suddenly looked a little stormy. He wondered whether perhaps Mrs Granby so much expected Evangeline to say something wilful, that she reacted as though her daughter had done so, whether in fact she had or not.
‘Praise, when merited, should always be bestowed,’ remarked Mr Granby.
Mrs Granby asked Michael about his sister, and seemed very pleased to hear that she might soon be coming to stay in the village. ‘If you are agreeable, she might like to come and visit us here,’ she suggested. ‘Evangeline will be glad of the company. I think she sometimes becomes bored with only her father and myself to entertain her.’
‘Nonsense, Mama,’ said Evangeline dutifully. ‘But, of course, your sister will be very welcome,’ she went on, speaking now to Michael. ‘You must know that we would be glad to meet any member of your family.’ She glanced up at him through her lashes.
‘I’m very glad to hear it, ma’am,’ he answered, inclining his head slightly.
The day had clouded over after church and by the time they arrived at Granby Park, it had begun to rain, and continued in this depressing manner for the rest of the day. After dinner, the family withdrew to the drawing room, where a merrily blazing fire succeeded in banishing much of the gloom of the day. Mrs Granby sent for tea, and Mr Granby asked Michael if anyone had told him about the well dressing.
‘I have heard of it and am eager to learn more,’ Michael said.
‘It’s a very ancient custom and is pagan in its origins,’ Mr Granby explained. ‘When the Christian faith came to these parts, the custom was banned. Its revival dates back to about three hundred years ago when all the wells in the area ran dry, excepting only the wells of Illingham. The custom of blessing the wells was revived, but this time with the agreement of the church.’
‘When does this take place?’
‘On Ascension Day,’ Granby replied. ‘It would normally be the task of the vicar to lead the procession and say the prayers of blessing at each well.’ He paused, choosing his words carefully. ‘I do not think it at all likely that Mr Lusty will want to perform this task. He has shown little interest in village concerns. I suspect, therefore, that the job will fall to your lot.’
‘I look forward to it,’ said Michael. ‘What form do the decorations take?’
‘Evangeline has some sketches of them, do you not, my dear?’ said Mrs Granby.
To Michael’s surprise, Evangeline coloured delicately, and seemed very reluctant to display her efforts. From what he had seen of her, he would have thought that she would be all too ready to do so. In fact, Mr Granby had to add his persuasions to those of his wife before Evangeline would consent to fetch her sketch book. Even then, she was careful to keep hold of the drawings herself, and only show the ones about which they had been speaking.
The pictures showed the three wells in the village, each decorated with garlands and branches. ‘Everyone in and around Illingham who wishes to take part is allowed to do so,’ said Mrs Granby. ‘Different garlands are made by families, or by the school or by other groups. We send one from this estate, and so does Lord Ilam.’ Michael studied the pictures carefully. Evangeline’s drawing was no worse than that of most other young ladies, and better than some, but it was a modest talent.
‘I do not think that I have seen anyone draw better than Evangeline,’ said her father fondly.
‘Papa!’ exclaimed Evangeline self-consciously.
‘It is true,’ her parent replied. ‘I suppose I might be allowed to believe that my angel is the best. Look, Matilda.’
He took one of the drawings to show to Mrs Granby. While he was doing so, Evangeline said to Michael ‘What do you think of my drawing?’
‘Your drawings are very pleasing,’ he said eventually.
‘But not the best you’ve ever seen.’
He paused. ‘No; but I was lucky enough to see some drawings by Leonardo when I was at Oxford.’
She sighed. ‘I think that even if my father saw drawings by Leonardo, he would still think that mine were best.’
Michael laughed. ‘That’s a parent’s prerogative, surely.’
‘All the time? People say that I am spoiled, Mr Buckleigh. Can you wonder at it? I am sure that your parents were too wise to praise you in such a way.’
‘I do not remember my mother doing such a thing, and she has now passed away,’ Michael replied. ‘Certainly my stepfather would never think of praising me except under very unusual circumstances. So, you see, I have no one to tell me that I am best.’
‘That’s not fair,’ she replied. Their eyes met, and for a long moment, neither of them said anything. Soon afterwards, the folder was put away and, not long after that, Michael went home in the Granbys’ carriage.
The following morning, Evangeline rode into Illingham. It was not something that she did often, preferring the open country if she just wanted to ride, or Ashbourne if she needed to make any purchases. Today, however, she had decided to call on Mrs Davies to see if she had had any news about when Lord and Lady Ilam were likely to return home. She herself was as likely to have news as Mrs Davies, because of her friendship with Lady Ilam. Nevertheless, there was a chance that the housekeeper might have more recent news, and it would only be courteous to call upon her. Then, perhaps, if she had time, she might have a look and see how the new curate was settling in. He was a single gentleman, of course, and normally she would not dream of calling upon a single man, but she had her groom with her. Anyway, she told herself, a clergyman was in a different position to others of his sex.
Evangeline had a dainty little mare named Snowball, because of her colour. She was very conscious that perched on the mare’s back in a riding habit of peacock blue, with a saucy hat embellished with a peacock’s feather, she looked absolutely stunning. If there was anyone to dazzle in Illingham, like a certain curate for instance, then she would be ready. Followed by her groom, she rode in the direction
of the village at a sedate trot.
They passed the curate’s cottage, but although the groom got down to knock on the door at Evangeline’s instruction – for it had occurred to her that it might be civil to inform Mr Buckleigh of her intention to call later – there was no answer.
Feeling a little disappointed, she rode on to Illingham Hall and was very politely received by Mrs Davies, who invited her into her sitting room. ‘Please do come and have something to drink after your ride, Miss Granby,’ said the housekeeper, eyeing the young woman a little warily. For Evangeline to call upon her personally was almost unprecedented. Furthermore, the visitor was known locally to be a somewhat over-indulged young woman, who could be haughty at times.
‘Thank you,’ Evangeline replied. ‘That is very kind. I would be glad of some coffee.’
The housekeeper’s room was warm and comfortable, with a neat sofa and two armchairs, two small tables, and a desk on which several ledgers were laid out, with an inkwell and quills bearing silent testimony to the fact that Mrs Davies was busy about her household accounts.
‘Have you had any news of Lady Ilam?’ Evangeline asked, as soon as they both had their coffee. ‘I was wondering if you had heard when she might be returning.’
‘Not for a little while yet, I think,’ answered Mrs Davies. ‘His lordship may come back for a while to see to the estate, then return to fetch her.’
‘That sounds like him,’ answered Evangeline with a smile. She had known Ilam for as long as she could remember, and he had always been committed to working the land. Until recently, Lord Ashbourne had shown no interest in his property and his son had had the whole of the Ashbourne estate to manage, which he had done very capably.
Mrs Davies smiled fondly. ‘He’s a fine master,’ she said. ‘We’ll all be glad to have him back amongst us.’
A brief silence fell whilst both ladies sipped their coffee. Then, after Evangeline had considered how to raise the subject of Mr Buckleigh and failed to think of a way of doing so obliquely, she simply said, ‘Do Lord and Lady Ilam know that the new curate has arrived?’