Their cousin Samuel Jerome was there, resplendent in gold braid, showing off his new uniform.
"It will be faded and covered in stains by the time I ever get back," he said with a rueful grin, but she could tell from the twinkle in his eyes that he couldn't wait to go. "Thank you for the thoughtful contributions to my kit. And yes, of course I would be delighted to take things over to your friend when I go."
Pamela was impressed with the quiet, sober young man with raven hair. She had seen him at several balls and was now sorry that she had not sought to get to know him better. Both he and Gareth Cavendish seemed very decent. If they were not as witty as some of the others like Timothy Bridges, nor were they as predatory, and certainly not so wearing.
As she spoke with Samuel, she was ever conscious of Jonathan's eyes upon her. The comment about being a flirt still rankled. How dare he judge her so about Gareth Cavendish? She was being kind for his sake, and selfish for Bertie's. He had no right to comment on how she chose to live her life.
Yet a vicar could be expected to know the difference between right and wrong, she thought, relenting in her anger after an hour or so. She hated feeling at odds with him. She had quarreled with him once before, and had felt wretched about it. She did not want to damage her newfound intimacy with him again.
Jonathan too had calmed down, and mustered some control over his seething jealousy. Having young Cavendish as her steward and man of business would be the best possible solution to all her problems. He had no reason to be jealous. It wasn't as if he had any right to be. Or ever would have that right.
When Pamela had a quiet moment, she approached the pianoforte, where Jonathan had been playing instrumentals whilst the others in the party amused themselves with cards.
"Miss Ashton," he said, inclining his head toward her politely. "May I take it that your coming here means you did not hold my extremely thoughtless and unfounded remark from before against me?"
"It is that of which I have come to speak."
Jonathan gave a tight smile. "I'm fortunate that you wish to talk, and not simply slap my face and storm off in high dudgeon. It would be no less than I deserve."
"No, not at all. Actually, I was just coming to elicit your honest opinion."
He glanced up at her with mild amusement. "I think you know me well enough by now to be certain I shall never give you anything less, even if it is badly expressed."
Her brows knit into a small frown. "Very well, then. Was it really so wrong of me to offer Mr. Cavendish a post at my stepbrother's establishment? Or am I to look forward to being heaped with opprobrium by others in the district?"
He gazed at her levelly as he continued to play the romantic Bach piece. "I think it was very kind of you. A bit impetuous perhaps, but well meant. Since he is going away now, there hardly seems any harm. It might be some time before he returns. I will be happy to go over things in the meantime to help get them ready for his custodianship.
"Once he does return, I would merely caution you to ensure you have a chaperone, and to make sure he is not brought too far into the family circle if you do not have any intention of your relations becoming anything other than employer and steward."
Pamela looked directly into his gray eyes. "I do not intend anything more than that, truly. I was thinking only of Bertie when I made the offer, and Mr. Cavendish's own unfortunate lack of a home or family with any appropriate feeling. I know men flock about me for my fortune, but he seems, well, different somehow. A friend, not a beau.
"I know you say he comes from a family of rakes and libertines, but I did not find his manner the least bit objectionable. In fact, he was so humble, his conversation was so much better than I'm accustomed to, apart from you good self, of course, that I can only think the rumors were spread about him by his own family. There seems to be no love lost there, after all."
"True enough," Jonathan conceded. "And I would be the first to caution you against believing everything you hear." He paused for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. There is some time yet before Bath, so we can spend a day going over your affairs to ensure that they are settled before we depart. And I will do the same when we get back."
"Thank you, that's very kind."
"But Gareth is going away, and things must not be neglected any longer."
She nodded. "Precisely."
"So the solicitors should set a regular schedule for coming down," he advised. "If it is not convenient for them, they might be kind enough to suggest someone local who would be able to look in on things and report appropriately. Your steward is far too old, and should be allowed to take on a young helper until Mr. Cavendish can fill the post. And you should keep an eye on the steward in the meantime. I fear he is doting, and you need to know where everything is when he finally takes retirement."
She nodded. "Very sound advice. Thank you. I shall be most grateful for all your help, and shall take steps to find an apt pupil for him. I think the eldest Miller lad might do well, if he is good at sums."
Jonathan's eyes lit up. "Yes, he or the second one down, Jed, who is very good at school, and takes a much more keen interest in his studies. Particularly maths."
"There, that's settled then. Thank you."
"Not quite. Once again, please allow me to say I'm sorry I spoke so hastily. It was unworthy of me. I can see you love you family, but have had little joy of them, just like Gareth. It was your empathy and kind heart which prompted you to act as you did."
She drew closer to him as he continued to play the Bach air. "Well, with Father gone, it just isn't the same for me in my own home any longer. I feel so at a loss all the time, and wish for the old days when things ran more smoothly. I will admit that my ridiculous pursuit of continuous novelty was as much about amusing myself as getting away from the Manor.
"And yes, I admit I do agree with your Radical ideas now that I've had time to give them due consideration. It seems most unfair that a woman is not considered fit to administer her own interests, to own property. And were I to marry, I would be at the mercy of my husband, would I not?"
He quickly suppressed his rising alarm at the thought. "That is the common way of things, Miss Ashton, unless you were to take steps in a pre-nuptial agreement to ensure that you maintained some control."
She nodded thoughtfully. "Not that I intend to marry in the near future, but it pays to guard against hasty decisions. I keep thinking of that poor woman in the novel Maria, so dependent upon her husband for everything. I should not like to suffer."
"I hope you shall not, by choosing wisely in the first place, and negotiating appropriate terms in the second."
She raised her brows. "Terms? You make it sound like a battle."
He sighed. "It can be, alas. Marriage is the most important relationship a woman will ever share apart from with her children. Even then they can be cruel, neglectful. There will come a time when you and Aunt Bledsoe will be in your home at Bertie's sufferance. He is young, but not that young. In a few years--"
Pamela gave an impatient toss of her head. "I'll be on the shelf if I'm not married by then. That must not happen, for all the reasons you have just said, and my own. I should like to be married and have children one day."
"I'm sure you shall, as soon as you meet the right man. But don't be in too much of a hurry." He bestowed upon her a sad smile.
"And you, Mr. Deveril? Did you never meet the right woman?"
Jonathan hit a discordant note at that, and apologized to the company, who all looked up at them in surprise.
"Sorry, all," he said with a small bow, rising up from the instrument. "Tired fingers. Someone else had better come have a turn at torturing this pianoforte."
He bowed to Pamela and seated her on the bench before she could utter a word of protest. "Sarah, do please come turn the pages."
Pamela looked at him in surprise, but he knew it was too dangerous to linger. He went over to join Samuel, who was now sitting beside another tall dark man whom Pamela took to be his brot
her. This was soon confirmed, but to Pamela's mind the two men, apart from hair color and height, could not have been more dissimilar.
The newcomer was sallow, and looked feverish, his eyes glittered so. Pamela could see he simply sat with his brother or cousins, and said very few words. Soon they left, Martin having come to pick up his brother and his things in preparation for leaving for the Continent in two days.
Pamela stared at Martin's skeletal figure, and shivered. There was a man who had suffered indeed.
The thought of how much unhappiness there was in the world, both visible and hidden, was enough to make her thank her lucky stars she was so blessed. For the moment she had a good home, family and friends. That might all change, but she was determined not to take them for granted. She also wanted to do what she could to alleviate suffering, now that she had been alerted to its existence. Now that she had become aware of the wider world beyond her own small one in Brimley thanks to Jonathan.
"I said, are you ready to head back home?" Jonathan asked her some time later.
"Oh, yes, indeed, Mr. Deveril," she replied, coming to the end of the melody she had been playing from memory. "As you said before, there is so much to do in preparation for tomorrow."
As she took her leave of the giggling Georgina Jerome, Pamela saw in herself an uncomfortable similarity to what she tended towards if she wanted attention. She resolved once more to be so much better than she had been since her first being allowed to socialize in the district. .She was not going to be the shameless flirt Jonathan had censured, not if she could help it.
Oh, she might lapse from time to time, and not everything could be so dour and serious as Jonathan and his sister tended to be. But nor was she going to spend hours tending her hair any longer. She was certainly going to participate far less in hunting and riding with the local horsy set and the blunt and often predatory men amongst them.
Pamela was pleased that Jonathan sat across from her in the Stones' carriage as they made their way back to Stone Court to pick up the vicar's gig. They were able to make small talk, and Jonathan was once again the soul of kindness, indeed, he was more amiable towards her than ever. For once, she started to feel like she was worthy of him, and her heart soared.
Once they arrived back at Stone Court, they all had a final cup of coffee together in the large drawing room. Then Pamela was loaded up with books and other useful items for the school, and they were ready to head back. It was just in time too, for dark clouds had blown in again and once more winter was upon them.
There were hugs and hearty handshakes all around as they departed. Pamela was genuinely sorry to leave, but took some comfort from the promises of seeing Clifford and Vanessa again in Bath very soon.
The ride back in the gig was blustery. Jonathan had insisted that Pamela sit between he and his sister for warmth. They shared a goodly number of traveling rugs and a newly filled pair of hot water bottles to ease the journey. She felt snug, warm, and once again felt the most inexplicable sensations and stirrings as the gig trundled along the road, its rhythmic swaying setting their bodies moving in time in a most suggestive manner. She felts suffused with warmth, and wondered if she had eaten too much.
After the fine dinner they had had at the Jeromes, Pamela could feel her head beginning to nod. The movement of the gig rocked her to sleep. Soon her head was upon Jonathan's shoulder, and she was snuggled against him most intimately.
Jonathan looked at his sister over Pamela's head but she just smiled.
"You've done nothing wrong, Jonathan. Enjoy it while it lasts."
So he did. He pretended that they were going back to the vicarage, that Pamela was his wife, that they had a warm and happy home with lots of children. He dreamt of the days they would spend together. And the nights...
He quashed that thought before he had to roll in the snow to prevent himself from acting on his desire for the lovely young girl. He sighed. He knew he had promised God, given his word to many people, but sometimes it could be so difficult to keep his honor. After all, it was a damned cold bedfellow at the end of the day. To have the one thing he loved more than life itself always tantalizingly out of reach was more than he should be expected to bear.
But Jonathan also knew he brought many of his troubles upon himself. He could avoid Pamela. Better still, he could act upon his desires, and allow himself to be happy.
But a principle was a principle, and he was also too afraid. Afraid of Pamela, that she did not return his love, not truly. That she would love him because of his fortune, not himself. Afraid for Pamela and any children they might have, because to have so many people to love was to risk them. To risk all. They were mere hostages to Fortune, and she was a fickle whore at best.
At any moment something dreadful like disease, an arbitrary and senseless act of God, or a violent person, could wrest them from him in the blink of an eye.
No, far better to carry on as he did, meeting his obligations in his personal and professional life, than to take a gauzy little butterfly like Pamela and rip off her wings.
At length he pulled the gig up in front of her front door, and gently woke her.
"Miss Ashton, Pamela, wake up. We're here." He gazed down at her, and she opened her eyes.
She gave him a warm returning smile, before she suddenly realized where she was: with her head on Jonathan's shoulder.
She sat bolt upright and began to stammer an apology.
"It's fine. Not your fault. After all, it's the least an elderly paternal figure like myself can do," he said as he got out of the gig, and helped her out, his hands warm and hard around her waist.
"Still, it's rather rude, after everything you've done for me. I thank you."
"It is you who are helping me, by helping the parish and my friends." He placed his hand under her chin, and forced the suddenly shy woman to look at him. "It is nothing to be ashamed of. Think nothing of it."
She met his gaze, nodded, and placed her hand on his. Even through their warm winter gloves, the heat scorched them both.
He lifted the pair of baskets from the floor of the gig and brought them in the front door. She stood framed in the doorway as it was opened. Limned in light, she looked like a golden angel, and he reached out his hand to caress her waist, pull her to him for a kiss.
She took it instead, misunderstanding the gesture, and saved him from complete disaster.
"Thank you for everything, Mr. Deveril. Good night."
Sarah called goodnight from the gig, and waved.
Pamela waved back, and with a last longing look at the vicar, disappeared through her front door amid a swirl of flakes.
Jonathan stood staring on the stoop, feeling an utter fool. Then he shook himself and got back in the gig.
Sarah said quietly, "She's a good woman. You could do worse."
Jonathan shook his head. "She is a Society Miss who will be married by the end of the season to some swell in the Ton. She's not for me, even if I were free. Which I'm not. You know I gave my word. I know you would love to have her as a sister, but it cannot be. And that's all I am going to say on the subject," he said in tones so bitter his sister sat away from him in her corner of the conveyance and left him to his brooding.
Sarah could only hope his anger was a good sign. That it might shake him out of the torpid state of limbo in his personal life which he had been living in ever since he had returned from the war.
He was a fine vicar and a good man. But he could not keep denying the man part without hurting himself, and any woman who came to care for him. She was becoming more and more convinced that Pamela Ashton was that woman. Only time would tell.
Sarah offered up a prayer that both would see the other for their worth, take the love that was within them, and forge each other's happiness, even out of the terrible events and secrets of the past. And sooner rather than later, she prayed, before Pamela fell prey to another's charms, and Jonathan ended up wretched forever
Chapter Fifteen
The next
fortnight passed far more quickly than the previous two, but for Pamela, they were worlds apart. Where she had been bored and jaded, now she was constantly excited and optimistic.
Her course of reading which her new friends had given her had become an essential part of her daily life, and she looked forward to the instruction Jonathan and his sister set for her.
Her teaching of the local parishioners proved more of a challenge than she had thought it would, but she persevered. Jonathan supported and encouraged her efforts wholeheartedly. She was delighted to think he was proud of her, and how much good she was doing for the people of Brimley.
She told herself again that she did not care for his good opinion. That she was doing this because it was the correct course of action. Yet she was pleased at his praise, and delighted to see him in the parish hall so often.
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