The Vicar's Daughter

by Josi S. Kilpack

  After a few seconds, Mr. Wilton cleared his throat. “I assume I have only your word to take for this account.”

  Evan looked up and felt his shoulders drop. He hadn’t considered that Cassie’s father would need more than his word. Would his warning be ignored? Had he come for nothing? Still, it had seemed like the right thing to do. Were one of his sisters receiving attention from a man like Bunderson, he would want to know of it, social expectations of privacy be hanged.

  Evan stood. “I thank you for your time, sir.”

  Mr. Wilton stood as well and put out his hand, which Evan shook. Mr. Wilton did not look away from Evan’s face. “You must see how this appears.”

  “I do,” Evan said. “I can only hope that you can see how my coming here does nothing to improve my situation. I am not and will not pursue Cassie, Mr. Wilton. I gave you my word and I will not break it. Only I feel she deserves a man who would be true to her, that is all.” As I would be, he thought.

  “Perhaps you would prefer she not find happiness with any other man. Perhaps you assume that if she does not find interest elsewhere I will relent in my opposition.”

  Evan was startled by the accusation and fell back half a step. “N-no. I expect nothing to change on my behalf, and I do want Cassie’s happiness.” He swallowed. “With a man who deserves her and will protect her, body and soul.”

  “Good,” Mr. Wilton said with a nod. “Then we understand each other.” He led Evan to the door.

  “Good day to you, sir,” Evan said, replacing his hat as he stepped over the threshold.

  “Good day, Mr. Glenside. I assume if there is any other information I should know for the good of my daughter, you will inform me.”

  Evan turned to look at the vicar, confused at what seemed to be contradicting positions the man had taken. He seemed unimpressed that Evan had come, and yet he was inviting him to come again should he have reason? Evan could only nod, agreeing to share information that would be in Cassie’s best interest.

  The vicar nodded and promptly closed the door.

  They did not have tea at the vicarage every day, but today, Mrs. Glenside and her daughters, as well as the Glanchard women, would be joining Cassie and her mother. Cassie was anxious about how Rebecca would treat the Glensides but hopeful that the afternoon would be pleasant for everyone. She helped prepare the tray and had just popped one of the miniature macaroons into her mouth when Papa came in through the kitchen door. She attempted a smile, then chewed quickly and swallowed.

  “Good afternoon, Papa,” she said. “Would you like a macaroon?”

  He said nothing but kissed her on the cheek, something he used to do often. She had not realized until that moment how much she had missed the token of affection. When he pulled back, he held her eyes. In the months since the broken engagement, Papa had kept his distance. She found his sudden attentiveness unnerving.

  “Is everything all right, Papa?” she asked.

  “Well enough, I suppose.” His attention moved past her to the tray. “Are you entertaining today, my dear?”

  “Mrs. Glenside and her daughters, as well as Mrs. Glanchard and Miss Rebecca, are coming for tea.”

  “Ah, yes, you said as much last night.” He picked up a finger sandwich, but did not eat it right away. “You are getting on well with Mrs. Glenside and her daughters?”

  “Yes,” Cassie said cautiously. The Glensides were not often a topic of conversation at the vicarage.

  “You seem to visit with the girls quite often.”

  “I have been working with them on elocution and etiquette. They’ve borrowed some of my books.”

  “Do you find them teachable?” he asked.

  It was an odd question, but Cassie did not mind answering it. She wondered why her father was suddenly interested. “Very teachable and eager to learn. Their reading is behind, which is why I’ve encouraged the books, but they are bright girls.”

  “And are they well-mannered?”

  Cassie couldn’t help but laugh. “You have met them, Papa, and dined with them, surely you need not ask as though they are strangers to you.”

  “They are strangers to me. A dinner and few greetings after church do not make them known to me.” His voice was rather flat, and he let out a breath. “But then there are those you can know all your life and still find that they are strangers, can you not?”

  “I-I suppose so.” Cassie cocked her head. Was he talking about her? “Are you certain everything is all right?”

  “Have you had any contact with Mr. Glenside?”

  The question startled her even as the sound of his name made her chest warm. “Yesterday, I was riding with Mr. Bunderson, and we encountered Mr. Glenside in town. He was waiting outside of Buttons and Bobs while his sisters bought ribbon. I did not speak with him, only accepted his greeting from where I sat in the carriage.”

  “Did Mr. Bunderson talk with him?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about?”

  “Well,” Cassie said, thinking back. “About London. He wanted Mr. Glenside to visit with him next time he goes; he had visited East End, where Mr. Glenside was from.”

  “And what did Mr. Glenside say regarding a trip to London with Mr. Bunderson?”

  Cassie felt as though she were being tested. “He did not seem to like the idea, though I don’t know why. I would assume he has friends he would want to see, but he said he had no interest in returning to his old neighborhood. He did not direct conversation toward me, Papa, and he left as soon as he could politely do so. I suppose I should have told you of the encounter, I-I wasn’t sure.”

  “It is all right,” Papa said, sounding tired. “I would like future accountings, though.”

  “Of course,” she said. “I promised you I would not have private communications with him, and I have kept my promise.”

  “I have your word?”

  Cassie nodded, but she was beginning to worry. Something was pressing upon her father, that much was certain. “What is wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head and looking around the room as though in need of distraction. He seemed to remember the finger sandwich in his hand and put it in his mouth. After chewing a few times, he swallowed and met her eye again. “I have been thinking. I do not feel it is the right time for you to be out, even unofficially, after all. I know we made an exception for the Allens’ ball, but upon further consideration, I feel it would be better for you to not be so involved, socially, that is. At least not for now.”

  “Have I done something wrong?” Cassie said. “I did not instigate that meeting with Mr. Glenside, Papa. I promise I didn’t.”

  He shook his head. “No, my dear, you have done nothing wrong. It is only that I do not feel right about you being out when Lenora is still without a match. I might reconsider next spring. We shall simply have to see.”

  The rebellious part of Cassie considered posing an argument, but Lenora would be home in another week, and Cassie worried how her sister would feel having both of them attending social events. And while Cassie had enjoyed herself at the ball, she had been too mindful of Evan to make the most of the evening. Surely if she waited another six months, or even a year, she would not be so aware of him.

  “All right,” she said.

  “You are not angry?”

  Cassie shook her head. “I don’t want to upset Lenora any more than I already have.”

  “Huh,” he said, obviously not expecting her answer. “And what about Mr. Ronald Bunderson? You will not be able to go about with him any longer.”

  “That is all right, too.” She had tried to get to know Mr. Bunderson better, but she did not long for his company. Especially after the carriage ride yesterday when he’d been such an arrogant braggart.

  “You are not particularly attached to him?”

  “He is agreeable enough, but
I am not particularly attached.”

  She didn’t understand why her answer made the lines around his eyes soften. He placed his hand against her cheek. “You’re a good daughter, Cassie.”

  The sentiment brought tears to her eyes, which she tried to blink away. “I am trying to be,” she answered in a soft voice.

  Papa smiled, then removed his hand from her cheek. He started to turn away, but then looked at her again. “Are you happy, Cassie?”

  Cassie did not know the answer. Lenora was still angry with her, Evan was lost to her, and though she was learning much, she still did not feel complete. Finally she gave him the most honest answer she could think of—the same thing she’d said a minute earlier. “I am trying to be.”

  He held her eyes a moment longer, then exited the kitchen. He was gone before Cassie realized she’d never learned the reason he’d come home in the first place.

  “Thank you for walking with me, Evan,” Mama said as they rounded the corner onto the cobbled sidewalks of High Street. Shops lined the road, and large trees created dappled shade. There were not many people out this early in the morning—in London it would be unheard of for gentry to be out before ten o’clock—but they were not in London, and the ­entire Glenside family was becoming more and more comfortable in Leagrave. It was getting harder to remember what life was like in Mile End.

  “It is my pleasure,” he said. “I had supposed now that I am no longer employed and we are once again living in the same house, I would see more of you than I do.”

  Mama laughed. “Yes, I had thought so, too.”

  “It seems, however, that I have to compete for your attention these days.”

  She laughed again, and he cast her a sidelong look, grateful that she could laugh so easily. “I am just so very busy,” she said, lifting her chin in a display of exaggerated airs. “There are visits and shopping and socials and . . .” She sighed and patted his arm with her free hand. “But at least I can meet you for a morning walk now and again.”

  “So glad I can be of service, m’lady.”

  Mama laughed again. “I hope I won’t see less of you once we are moved over to the cottage.”

  Uncle had said the Dower House would be ready the first of next week, only a few more days.

  “You’ll still dine at the manor most evenings, won’t you?”

  Mama shrugged. “I don’t know the way of things, but I hope so.”

  “And I shall send round cards inviting you for these morning walks and hope that you can fit me in.”

  Someone called out a greeting. “Good morning, Mrs. Glenside.”

  Evan and his mother both turned to see a woman from church—Evan did not know her name—on the opposite corner, going the opposite direction, and yet she’d made a point to greet his mother. He smiled and nodded while his mother waved back. “Good morning, Miss Shrives.”

  “Will we see you at ensemble tonight?” Miss Shrives asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Ensemble?” Evan asked as they continued their walk.

  “It’s like a choir, I believe, only smaller. They are working on some music for the Christmas service.”

  “It is not yet August,” Evan pointed out.

  “It’s never too early to learn one’s parts,” she said. “And the company is delightful.” She sighed, a delicate, delightful sound. “I like it here very much, Evan. I thank the good Lord every day for bringing this blessing into our lives.”

  “I am glad to hear it, Mama,” Evan said, as content as he could imagine being.

  “And you? Are you grateful for this circumstance?”

  “Of course I am,” Evan said, but he felt the muting of his mood.

  “I wonder if you are sometimes.” She didn’t say it as a reprimand, but Evan wasn’t sure she could say such a thing without it feeling as though he were being taken to task. Especially since she had just commented on what a great blessing it all was. “There are times I feel you are merely tolerating this place.” She swept her hand through the air, indicating the narrow streets and squat buildings of the village.

  “Perhaps I am not as effusive as I ought to be, but that has never been in my nature, and you can’t expect everything to change so quickly.”

  “No, I suppose I can’t. You are so very much like your father—serious and careful about everything. Only I hope you can find enjoyment here, and I wish you would stop pining for the Wilton girl.”

  Evan felt himself tense. “I am pining for no one.” Pining suggested hope, and there was no hope. Hadn’t Mr. Wilton reminded him of that fact just last week when Evan had warned him about Bunderson’s character?

  Evan was still unsettled about that meeting, sure that if he’d thought longer and harder he could have found a better approach. And yet Monday night, Bunderson had told Evan at a dinner party that he’d received a letter from the vicar explaining that Cassie was unable to receive his attentions.

  “They’ve sent her out and then pulled her back in again,” Bunderson had said, rolling his eyes. “It’s a wonder that girl knows what direction is up anymore. Do you know she would not even give me a kiss for good luck when we rode out last week? My cousin may have been wrong about vicar’s daughters.” Bunderson then launched into plans regarding a hunting party he was putting together for September and asked if Evan would like to join. “I’m sure the six of us together could make a quick study of you with a rifle. What do you say?”

  Evan was not interested in the least and had an easy time excusing himself by explaining he would need to help oversee the last of the harvest. He’d ended the night grateful that Mr. Wilton had put Bunderson in his place without tipping his hand.

  “Evan?”

  He shook himself back to the present moment and repaired his smile. “I am not pining, Mama,” he said again. “There is simply a great deal to be done and a lot for me to learn. I am choosing to be focused, which requires serious and careful attention.”

  “Touché,” she said with a nod. “Perhaps, however, you should also be serious and careful about finding a wife.”

  “I don’t want a wife.” Evan winced at how blunt his words sounded. He should have acted as though he were considering the suggestion rather than rejecting it outright. “I have far too much to do now to think of such a thing and . . . it is too soon.”

  “Is it?” Mama waved to another acquaintance on the other side of the street. “No one speaks of the engagement.”

  Not to you, Evan thought to himself. He had little doubt it would be whispered about through the village forever. “Which is all I could wish for. Perhaps next season I will reconsider things. For now, it is all too fresh for me to make another attempt. For her sake if not my own.”

  “Miss Wilton’s returned from Bath, did you know?”

  Evan glanced at his mother. “I didn’t know.”

  “A few days ago. Her sister is due to deliver any time, and she’s returned to stay with her for the duration.”

  “She is not at the vicarage, then?”

  “Apparently not. Mrs. Gibbons was telling me of it the other day. From all reports, Miss Wilton enjoyed her time in Bath.”

  “I’m glad,” Evan said, but his responsibility to Lenora weighed in his chest. Their paths would cross at some point. What would he say? How would he act? It was unfair that she’d been so disgraced, and yet it would have been more unfair to marry her. He felt the continued awkwardness whenever he and the Wiltons shared one another’s company and imagined how much worse it was going to be with Lenora part of the equation. Then he hated to be directing even more negativity toward her. She had more than she deserved already.

  “Anyway, you had better prepare yourself for a great deal of motherly encouragement come spring. What kind of gentlewoman would I be if I didn’t push my son to marry? I understand that is to be my primary occupation, in fact.”
>
  Evan smiled good-naturedly but was already dreading the spring when Mama would make good on her threat.

  They finished their walk just as the day was becoming warm. Evan retired to his study where he transcribed last month’s reports and then caught up with some correspondence.

  It was some time later when he heard footsteps approaching. He looked up as Leggit appeared in the doorway, a silver tray in hand.

  “A letter for you, sir.”

  “Thank you, Leggit.” As soon as Evan held the letter in his hand a rush of familiarity washed through him.

  The size.

  The shape.

  The paper.

  The handwriting.

  He turned it over and stared at the seal, a simple circle with a cross inside—the very same seal from the letters he kept in a corner of his desk drawer.

  Why is Cassie writing me? Evan broke the seal and unfolded the paper.

  Dear Evan,

  I must speak to you, and I hope you will agree to meet me in the glen behind the barn where we have met before. Please come at four o’clock this afternoon; my parents will be visiting my sister for tea.

  Cassie

  Evan read it one more time and then dropped it on the desk. He scrubbed a hand over his face and let out a heavy breath.

  Cassie was feeding one of Mama’s shifts through the ringer when she heard the back door bang shut. She looked over her shoulder to see Young approaching. It was hot today, and she felt as though she were melting. The sooner she finished the task, the sooner she could escape into the house and find reprieve from the stifling heat. It was a halfhearted hope to think that Mama had sent Young to help her and Mrs. Ashby; Young never helped with the wash.