Jocelyn, Amanda, and Catharine all traveled to Lincoln to meet Terrill’s family. The retired admiral—who had served with Charles in his early naval days—and his wife could not have been more pleased with developments. They returned the gesture several weeks later by traveling down to Devon, where Geoffrey put them up at the Hall. Catharine’s cousin insisted on helping as much with the wedding plans as they would allow, and would house all the guests from Lincoln and London at the bride’s former home. Sarah and Wenda were already at work getting rooms ready that had not seen inhabitants since Charles had entertained his parliamentary colleagues.
Catharine and Terrill Langham were married in the first week of April 1919 in the Milverscombe church, with Timothy Diggorsfeld officiating.
When the bride and groom departed for their honeymoon in Scotland, all Devon seemed to grow quiet without Catharine’s boisterous, cheery laughter and smiling optimism. Heathersleigh Cottage felt especially dreary and deserted.
Amanda was sober for several days. Jocelyn could see that a melancholy was stealing over her. How difficult it must be, she thought, to watch her sister happily married with the support and blessings of an entire community, and then to remember what she had done.
Jocelyn came upon Amanda three mornings after the wedding, alone in the family lounge quietly crying.
“Oh, Mother,” she said in a forlorn voice as she glanced up through red eyes, “it was so beautiful and happy—I threw so much away!”
“God will restore the years the locusts have eaten, Amanda dear,” said Jocelyn as she sat down beside her. “I do not know how, but with the Lord nothing is lost forever.”
Amanda did not reply but quietly continued to weep.
She did not know how either. The promise seemed impossible to grasp. So much had been lost. She had thrown away not only precious years, but even her memories of childhood, which should have been happy ones. How could any of it be restored?
But gradually the tears dried as they had in the past, and life settled once more into a routine.
Now there were only two of them left. Bobby was gone. Charles was gone. George was gone. Maggie was gone. And now Catharine was gone.
In October Stirling Blakeley left on the train for Oxford. Now Milverscombe seemed all the more deserted. Half the village was at the station to see him off. Amanda stood between her mother and Geoffrey, waving as the train gradually rumbled and clattered out of sight. As she turned away a few moments later, she was surprised to feel tears in her eyes.
88
End of a Tumultuous Decade
Stirling’s departure left a void in Geoffrey’s life, just as it did in Amanda’s. Frequent letters passed between them, of course, and though Amanda and Geoffrey still saw one another frequently and were by now the best of friends, it was not the same without their mutual friend. The two could not alone capture the joy the three together had shared.
Terrill and Catharine Langham spent the first six months of their married life in London, then, much to the delight of the mother of the bride, settled in Plymouth following the lieutenant’s transfer.
Timothy Diggorsfeld had nearly completed a book of devotional memoirs. He was being encouraged by all his friends to take the train into London to talk to a publisher.
They heard from Sister Hope that Betsy’s adoption had been finalized. Adoptive mother and adoptive daughter could not have been happier. There continued to be talk of visits in both directions between Switzerland and Devon.
Stirling Blakeley’s homecoming after his first year at medical school was, if possible, a happier time for Amanda and Geoffrey even than for Stirling. They found that the threefold friendship had not been injured but had deepened from Stirling’s absence. Not a day went by that the three were not together. They took turns reading aloud to one another the Scotsman’s simple tale of the love between Dawtie, Sandy, and Andrew—the childlike trio—and prayed for themselves some of their prayers after setting the book aside for the day. More and more of Stirling’s time, too, was taken up at Dr. Armbruster’s side.
At the end of the summer Stirling left again for Oxford. His second and third years passed more quickly than he would have imagined. Milverscombe and the surrounding area continued to grow and thrive. More and more of its residents took out loans and availed themselves of the resources for improvements. With the war over, prosperity and progress were coming to the world, and Devon came in for its share. Accustomed now to having a local bank, and growing comfortable with liens, mortgages, monthly payments, and interest rates, the people of the community were adjusting to and enjoying the march of progress.
The appearance of prosperity and growth were evident wherever one looked. New homes and a few new buildings were in progress in the village. Everyone said that Geoffrey Rutherford must surely have been endowed with the same giving nature as his cousin Charles.
When Stirling Blakeley returned to Milverscombe in the spring of 1922 at the end of his program, his medical studies complete, all that stood in the way of a practice of his own was a period of apprenticeship with Dr. Armbruster.
If anything, thought Amanda when she saw him step off the train, he was more handsome than ever with his bright, lively countenance, flowing light brown hair, and golden moustache. His limp seemed to have lessened, too, though she wondered if she were imagining the improvement.
Amanda glanced away briefly as he approached with a great smile. Her heart was beating a little too fast, and she had to try to calm herself.
She stared down at the boards under her feet.
A moment later a large shadow on the platform engulfed her. Amanda could feel him standing less than two feet away.
Slowly she glanced up. “Hello, Stirling,” she said softly.
“Amanda, you look radiant!” exclaimed Stirling exuberantly. “I could hardly wait to get home. It is so good to see you again!”
Amanda smiled and their eyes met. In that moment both realized that something had changed between them.
89
Private Talk
As handsome as Stirling appeared to Amanda, he could not say the same about Geoffrey as the two young men, both now over thirty, greeted one another. He had noticeably lost weight and his face seemed pale.
“Geoffrey!” said Stirling, giving his friend a warm embrace. “How are you!”
“Now that you are home for good,” replied Geoffrey, “I am certain I will be better than ever.”
The affection between the three friends resumed as if no time had passed at all.
“Geoffrey and I have discovered a new book this spring,” said Amanda excitedly, recovering her trembling emotions once Geoffrey and Stirling were talking together. “We’ve been dying to show it to you, haven’t we, Geoffrey?”
“Absolutely.”
“I can’t wait!” said Stirling. “How about tomorrow . . . I should spend the rest of today with my father and mother.”
“Today’s Friday—why don’t you both come over to the Hall tomorrow for lunch?” suggested Geoffrey.
“Agreed?” asked Stirling, glancing toward Amanda.
“Agreed!” she consented eagerly.
Inwardly Stirling was more concerned about Geoffrey’s lean and pallid appearance than he let on. After a pleasurable reunion with his parents, he walked to Dr. Armbruster’s surgery for a brief visit. After they had chatted for a few minutes, he brought up the subject of Geoffrey’s condition.
“I know,” sighed Armbruster. “It has been progressively worsening for a couple of years.”
“Do you see him regularly?” asked Stirling.
Armbruster nodded. “I do what I can, but it’s mostly limited to lozenges to try to reduce the coughing, and reminding him to bundle up and keep warm.”
“I don’t like the sound of it.”
“Nor do I. But I don’t know what to do.”
“Do you think . . .” Stirling’s voice trailed off.
“I don’t know, Stirling,” sighed Armbruster. “
All I know is that these winters are not good for him, and every year his capacity to fight off infection seems to decline.”
————
On Saturday the three enjoyed much talk and laughter together, with Amanda and Geoffrey taking turns sharing passages out of their new favorite of the Scotsman’s books.
Sunday’s church service was a special time of rejoicing for Stirling, made all the fonder in that his heart had missed these people and the rich fellowship for so long. He sat next to Amanda and Jocelyn, with Geoffrey to her left, and his own parents to his right. Even as the service was concluding he decided that today was the day to do what had been growing in his mind for more than a year now.
After the service Stirling waited for a moment when she was not with Amanda, then approached Jocelyn.
“Is it good to be back, Stirling?” she asked.
“Better than you can imagine,” he answered. “As they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. This will always be my home.”
Stirling hesitated briefly.
“I wondered,” he went on, “if I might come over and talk with you this afternoon?”
“Certainly, Stirling—would you like to come for tea about four?”
“No . . . I mean, thank you . . . but I meant in private.”
“Oh . . . right, I see—of course. Well, come anytime, then, and if you would like to stay for tea, that would be fine too.”
“Will . . . uh, will Amanda be home?”
“I believe so,” answered Jocelyn, “although I think she is going over to see Esther Spenser immediately after church.”
“Could I come right away then . . . I would rather talk to you when she wasn’t nearby.”
“Of course, Stirling,” said Jocelyn, growing more curious by the minute why Stirling, usually so confident and self-assured, had all of a sudden become so fidgety.
An hour later, Stirling sat down in the large lounge of Heathersleigh Cottage, nervousness written over every inch of his face. Jocelyn could see his discomfort but waited patiently for him to begin.
“This is hard, Lady Jocelyn,” he began at last, “but I don’t think there is any easy way to say it, so I will just start.”
He paused, took a deep breath, then continued.
“I wish I could talk to Sir Charles about this,” he said, “but I know you and Sir Charles were of one mind, and you are head of the family now, so it’s you I have to ask. The last thing I want to do is bring Amanda any more pain. I care too much for her to do that. But at the same time, I want to tell you what I am thinking, which is just this—”
He stopped and drew in a long breath, then let it out slowly.
“I know it seems presumptuous,” he continued, “even to think there could be anything between us. And she’s been my friend first of all . . . but I’ve been praying and talking to the Lord about it for almost a year now, wondering if he may have in mind for us to live our lives together. So that’s what I want to ask you about, if you think there could be any chance, and if you’d have any objections.”
Jocelyn smiled. She should have seen it coming.
“I can’t think of anything that would delight me more, Stirling,” she said.
“It is kind of you to say it.”
“And don’t be too sure about there being no chance. Amanda is very fond of you. Have you mentioned anything to her?” asked Jocelyn.
“Oh no . . . not yet,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know if she is healed enough from all that happened, you know . . . her past and the marriage to Mr. Halifax, and everything. But I wanted to ask you if you thought there might be hope.”
“I do, indeed, Stirling. And you certainly have my permission to speak with her, if that’s what you are asking. You and Amanda are both over thirty years of age and well able to make up your own minds what God wants for you, but decisions like this need lots of support. I appreciate your coming to me.”
Relieved to have the ordeal over with, Stirling let out another long sigh.
“Thank you, Lady Jocelyn,” he said. “I was really nervous.”
“I could tell!” smiled Jocelyn.
Outside, they heard Amanda’s voice singing the closing hymn from church as she approached the cottage after her visit with Mrs. Spenser.
Quickly Stirling stood. Jocelyn rose also, went to him and embraced him warmly, then stepped away.
Stirling turned and made for the door.
“Hello, Amanda,” he said as he hurried past her outside and toward his horse.
“Stirling . . . I didn’t know you were here,” she said. “Did you—”
But already Stirling was climbing into the saddle and galloping away.
Bewildered, Amanda continued on. She met Jocelyn at the door.
“What did Stirling want, Mother?” she asked.
“He had private business with me,” answered Jocelyn.
“Private business with you!” laughed Amanda. “What is that supposed to mean . . . what kind of business?”
“I told you—private business.”
“And he didn’t even want to see me?”
“I am sure he will talk to you when he feels the time is right.”
“Talk to me about what?”
“Never mind. Just be patient.”
Amanda continued into the cottage to change her clothes, more perplexed than ever.
90
Another Private Talk
Amanda did not have long to wait for an answer to Stirling’s curious behavior.
Four hours later, as the warmth of late afternoon gradually began to cool, he appeared again, this time in a two-seater buggy.
Hearing the clattering sounds of the approach, Amanda came to the door just as he pulled up in front of the cottage.
“Stirling!” she laughed. “What are you doing? Where did that fancy buggy come from?”
“I borrowed it from Geoffrey,” Stirling replied.
“I knew I recognized it, but what—”
“Would you come for a ride with me, Amanda?” As he spoke, he seemed distracted and nervous.
“But . . . what—now? Like this? You’re all dressed up, like you’re going to church or a party or something.”
“Never mind about that. Just come with me for a ride—yes, as you are.”
Amanda leaned the broom in her hand against the wall, then called inside the open door, “Mother, I’m leaving for a while with Stirling.”
She walked to the buggy, climbed up, and sat down on the other side of the padded bench seat. Stirling flicked the reins, pulled the horse around, and cantered off back the way he had come. But instead of continuing on toward the Hall, about halfway Stirling turned onto another dirt carriage track leading toward the hills northwest of the village.
He did not utter a peep. He was obviously growing more and more restless by the minute. Amanda began to think something was seriously wrong. There must be some dreadful news he had been waiting to break to her after returning to Milverscombe.
“Stirling,” she finally said, “please . . . what is going on? If something is wrong, you can—”
“Nothing is wrong,” he said abruptly.
“But you are so quiet and serious. I’ve never seen you like this.”
Stirling did not reply.
Suddenly Amanda realized what it must be.
“Oh no . . . Stirling—you’re going to move! You’re leaving Milverscombe. Have you told Geoffrey yet?”
“No . . . I’m not leaving,” he said. “Actually . . . Dr. Armbruster has offered me a post as his assistant for as long as I want it.”
“That’s wonderful. But—”
Amanda paused.
“Is it . . . it’s Geoffrey, then, isn’t it,” she said, “—something’s wrong with Geoffrey?”
Again Stirling shook his head.
It fell quiet for another minute as they bounced slowly along.
“Then what is it?” implored Amanda at last. “You’re making me worry!”
Finally Stirling slowed the buggy, then eased it to a stop. While the horse stood calmly snorting and shuffling its hooves, Stirling tried to collect himself. He made several attempts to speak, drawing in long breaths and exhaling slowly. Amanda continued to sit, not exactly patiently but quietly waiting. At last Stirling turned toward Amanda.
“You know, Amanda,” he began, “I’m not what you’d call a romantic. I’ve read the romantics of literature, and I always considered all that a bit soupy for my tastes. But you’re my friend, actually probably the best friend I’ve ever had along with Geoffrey. I like being with you, as a friend . . . but also as a woman.”
Amanda felt her face suddenly getting very hot and knew it was turning red.
“These years away,” Stirling continued, “made me think about a lot of things. I know you’ve had a lot of difficulties to face . . . and I know you said you’d never marry again . . .”
At the word “marry,” Amanda’s heart began to pound.
“. . . and I can respect that if it’s the way God is leading you. I would be the last person on earth to try to talk you into doing anything other than what you think God wants for you, even for my own sake.”
Stirling exhaled deeply and squirmed a little where he sat. He then stared straight out over the peaceful Devonshire countryside.
“But at the same time,” he went on, unable to look at her now, “I’ve been finding myself realizing that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, because . . . it’s just that . . . well, that I love you as more than just as a friend.”
Amanda’s brain was spinning. Was Stirling saying what he seemed to be saying . . . that he loved her!
“And so what I’m saying,” said Stirling, taking a deep breath and then letting it out, “if you don’t think it’s too presumptuous for a commoner like me to approach a lady like you, if you should ever change your mind about your future . . . you know, what you think you’re supposed to do—about marrying, I mean . . . if such a time should ever come, I would . . . what I’m trying to say is that I would like to ask you to be my wife.”
A New Dawn Over Devon Page 39