The Courtship of the Vicar's Daughter

by Lawana Blackwell

  “You know better than to touch an upperclassman, Hollis!” he growled. Meanwhile Tupper struggled to his knees, fishing for a handkerchief for his bleeding nose.

  “He started it!” Philip answered, matching Westbrook’s glare. “And I’ll make him even more sorry if he trips me again!”

  “I didn’t touch you, Hollis!” Tupper exclaimed through the handkerchief held up to his face. “You’re as daft as your fat friend!”

  Westbrook shoved Philip in the direction of his strewn books. “Go to lecture, Hollis. And you can forget about lunch today—you’ll be running laps.”

  Two hours later, as Philip was rounding the corner of the building to begin his fourth lap, he spotted a hackney cab drawn up the drive by two horses. He had no interest in learning who the passenger might be, so he resumed staring dully at the ground in front of him. Just as he made it to the far side of the building, a familiar voice hailed him.

  “Philip?”

  Incredulously, he halted and turned. Vicar Phelps stood next to the cab, waving an arm. Philip began running toward him, and forgetting how embarrassed he was at any public displays of affection, he threw himself into the vicar’s arms. As he burst into tears against the man’s broad shoulder, a hand clapped him gently on the back. “There, there now,” the vicar soothed.

  After a minute or two of this consolation, Philip became embarrassed and pulled away. “I’m sorry, sir. I just …”

  Vicar Phelps would not let go of his arm. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “What happened to your chin?”

  “I was tripped on the stairs.” The memory of being laughed at again was far worse than the dull throbbing of his bruised chin, but he blinked his eyes and forbade any more tears. Then the question finally occurred to him. “Why are you here?”

  The vicar’s face wore a frown of concern. “To see about you, Philip. Why are you running out here by yourself? Isn’t it close to lunchtime?”

  Staring at the ground, he replied, “I fought with an upperclassman.”

  “Yes?”

  Quickly Philip felt compelled to explain, lest the vicar think he was a troublemaker. “He tripped me twice, Vicar.”

  “You didn’t have to tell me that, Philip. You’re not the sort of boy who picks fights.” Vicar Phelps glanced over at the building. “What do you think we should do? Talk with the headmaster?”

  Hopelessness deflated Philip’s shoulders. This was not Gresham. Beyond extending sympathy, there was nothing the vicar could do. “It won’t do any good.”

  The man scratched at his bearded cheek. “Hmm. Then I suppose we’ve no other choice. Nip up to your room and collect your belongings while I inform whoever should be concerned that you’re leaving.”

  “Sir?”

  “Let’s go home. Do hurry, will you? I didn’t tell Elizabeth where I was going for fear she might let it slip to your mother. She’ll fret herself sick if we miss that last train.”

  The mention of “home” brought intense longing. “But the money … Mother …” He swallowed a sob. “I don’t want to waste Mother’s money, and everybody will think I’m a quitter.”

  “Your mother will agree with my decision, Philip. No amount of money is as important to her as you are. There’s no shame in leaving an intolerable situation. You gave it a try. I wouldn’t stay in a place where I was repeatedly mistreated. I don’t know why we force children to do so.”

  As Philip was opening his mouth to protest that he really thought he could tough it out for the rest of the school year, the vicar raised a finger to his lips. “If you don’t want to spend another night in Worcester, you’ll hurry!”

  He thought his heart would burst. With a whoop of happiness, Philip caught the vicar into a ferocious embrace, then raced for the door. He was halfway up the stairs when he realized he had not told the vicar that the headmaster would be at lunch. But he thought it best to do as he was told. Fortunately, Westbrook was still at lunch with the rest of his dormitory mates, so he was able to collect his things unmolested.

  Passing Westbrook’s bed on his way to the door, Philip slowed his steps. Would he not enjoy the memory for years to come of having pitched the monitor’s belongings and bedclothes out the window? The temptation lasted only a fraction of a second. God had answered his nightly prayer to take him out of this wretched place. He didn’t think an act of pettiness was the proper way to show his gratitude.

  “My name is Andrew Phelps, Mr. Houghton,” Andrew said to the white-haired man at the head of the faculty table, where he had been directed by a student. “I’m withdrawing Philip Hollis as of this moment.”

  Headmaster Alfred Houghton swallowed the mouthful he had been chewing when Andrew approached and asked, “Under whose authority?”

  “Under the authority that I’ll be his father in another three weeks.”

  Glances were exchanged among the other men at the table. The man seated at the headmaster’s right motioned him closer, and a whispered conference took place. Finally straightening, the elderly gentleman inquired, “Has the boy’s mother granted permission for him to leave?”

  “She will be glad of it, once she hears how your faculty denied your students protection from intense bullying.”

  Mr. Houghton’s cheeks reddened. “It is not our policy to grant refunds, Mr. Phelps.”

  On impulse, Andrew took the envelope from his pocket. “I have a letter here written by a certain Gabriel Patterson, whom I’m sure you recall left this school with a fractured arm incurred under dubious circumstances. It would make compelling evidence in a court of law. Perhaps some newspapers would be interested as well.”

  There was another hurried whispered conference, and then the headmaster told him, “Mr. Courtland will draft a cheque. Excluding three full month’s tuition and board, you understand.”

  That’s better than what I expected, Andrew thought, nodding. Now that he had had a little time to think about it, he was a little stunned that he had taken it upon himself to withdraw Philip. But he knew Julia’s heart. Even if she would have recovered nothing of the money, he was certain she would be of the mind that her son’s welfare was more important.

  They arrived in Shrewsbury at nine o’clock, and then Andrew had to retrieve Rusty and his trap from the livery stable near the station. It was almost ten by the time they reached Gresham. “I still can’t believe this day is happening,” Philip told him after knocking on the Larkspur’s courthouse door.

  Andrew smiled back. “It’s been a strange one, all right.”

  “Master Philip?” Mrs. Beemish said after answering the door with candle in hand. “Vicar? Is something wrong?”

  For a second it appeared that the boy would wrap his arms around her. “I’m home to stay, Mrs. Beemish!”

  “Indeed?” Still looking perplexed, the housekeeper smiled and stepped back out of their way. “Well, your mother turned in just a half hour ago. Perhaps you should wake her?”

  Philip started off in that direction but then turned to Andrew. “I’m sure she’ll want to speak with you too, sir. Will you come in?”

  “My girls will be worried about me,” Andrew replied. Dipping into his pocket for the cheque, he handed it out to the boy. “You can explain everything as well as I can. Be sure to give this to her, will you?”

  “Is this a cheque?” the boy asked, studying the slip of paper.

  “For the remainder of your tuition.”

  Again Andrew found himself caught up in an exuberant embrace. I thought boys his age didn’t like this sort of thing, he thought but grinned his pleasure as his back was being pounded. Any misgivings he had entertained on the return train ride had completely vanished.

  But by the following morning he realized Julia would be curious as to what had prompted him to leave for Worcester in such a hurry, so he left a little early for archery practice and stopped by the Larkspur. She greeted him in the hall, which was thankfully empty for a change, and pressed a quick kiss against his lips before saying a word.

&n
bsp; “I take that to mean you’re not angry at me?” he said, smiling as his arms circled her waist. He received another kiss in reply, but then she stepped back from his arms at the sound of approaching footsteps in the main corridor.

  “Shall I bring some tea, missus?” Sarah asked from the doorway.

  “I can stay but a minute,” Andrew replied to Julia’s questioning look.

  Julia thanked the maid anyway, and when she was gone, said, “Philip told me how unhappy he was.” Her emerald eyes filled. “I should have made him stay home after his last visit when I noticed his weight loss.”

  “It’s not your fault, Julia. You gave him every chance to tell you what was wrong.”

  “I only wish he had. He could have spared himself so much misery.”

  Handing over his handkerchief, Andrew explained, “Well, in his eyes that was the same as running to his mother for protection. Not the sort of thing that a fourteen-year-old boy wants to be known for.”

  She sighed. “I suppose I’ll never understand you men and your pride.”

  “Just take it as a compliment, dear. We’re terrified that you women will find out how weak we really are and decide we’re not worth the trouble.”

  “As if!” But then a smile lit her expression. “I’m terribly grateful to you, Andrew.”

  “It’s no less than what you’ve done for Elizabeth.” Reluctantly he had to add, “And as much as I’d rather stay here and hope to collect another kiss, I assured Mr. Raleigh I would help him set up for practice on the green today. You’ll send Aleda on in a bit, won’t you?”

  “Yes. And no doubt Philip will want to watch.” Her brow furrowed slightly. “But tell me … how did you know the extent of his unhappiness?”

  “I received a letter from a former student who had struck up a friendship with him.”

  “You did? Philip mentioned no letter to me.”

  “No? Hmm—I gave it to him on the train.” But then Andrew understood. Obviously Philip had only shared with his mother that he had been homesick and miserable, sparing her any details of his mistreatment. And wisely so, for the episode was over and done with now, and she had put herself through enough self-recrimination. “Then let’s not mention it to him, shall we? A man likes to keep some things to himself.”

  As he walked out toward the green, Andrew thought of the waste it was that Julia’s late husband had spent so little time with his children. If he had only understood the joy that a family could give a man, surely the gaming halls would have been less of an attraction. But he had seen it more than once during his ministry—men, and sometimes women, who trampled pure gold underfoot in their pursuit of garbage. God, please strike me dead if I ever become that blind, he prayed.

  “Brush yourself off good now,” Seth instructed Thomas on Saturday noon at the back door of their cottage. Sawdust from work on the new stables clung to their clothes and skin and had even managed somehow to creep up under their caps into their hair. He slapped at the front of his coat and raised a cloud, which made him sneeze three times in rapid succession. As he wiped his watering eyes, he heard Thomas laugh.

  “Oh, that amused you, did it?” Seth asked. The boy’s smile faded a little, uncertainty filling his large eyes. And then he shrieked as Seth lunged at him, caught him at the knees, and heaved him up over his shoulder upside-down like a sack. “This is a sure way to get the sawdust off a boy!” He held both feet tightly and trotted in a circle around the yard with the boy chuckling and bouncing against his back. “Do you find it so funny now?”

  “Y-yes, sir!” Thomas replied in a spate of fresh giggles. Smiling, Seth swung him around and lowered him to his feet, then held him by the shoulders until his balance returned. The boy grinned and caught his breath, eyeing Seth as if torn between fear and the hope that he would be pounced upon again.

  “I think we’re both a mite cleaner now,” Seth told him. He bent down to pick up the boy’s cap. As he straightened, he heard a noise in the house.

  “What was that?” Thomas asked with wide eyes.

  “You heard it too?”

  “Someone’s in the kitchen.” Hope suddenly filled his expression, and he started for the door. Seth beat him to it.

  “It’s not her,” he said with his hand upon the knob. He could not allow the boy to rush in and have his hopes crushed. However, they had both heard something. And it was Saturday. Had she possibly lost count?

  “Something must have fallen, that’s all.” But as he opened the door, there was a definite sound of movement—too far away to be the pantry, so it had to have come from the kitchen. He stepped into the pantry with Thomas close on his heels when another sound hit his ears.

  Pot-rack?

  Seth bounded into the kitchen. The guinea stood in the middle of the table, preening his gray speckled feathers as if he had every right to be there.

  “I’ll get the door, Father,” Thomas said from behind. Seth nodded and eased around the table so that he could chase the bird toward the back. With a flutter of wings and an indignant squawk, it jumped from its perch and raced into the pantry. Seth heard the door slam a second later, and then the boy came into the kitchen.

  “She’s really not here,” he said in a small voice.

  “I told you she wouldn’t be.” Seth took a can of tinned beef from the cupboard and injected some cheer into his voice. “But we’ll manage just fine. I bought some more ketchup yesterday, and we’ll make some sandwiches.”

  “Perhaps we could invite her to have some with us? I could ride Lucy over and—”

  “No, Thomas.” Seth shook his head. “We can’t do that.”

  Thankfully, the boy was not given to whining or sulking and helped him set the table. As they ate their sandwiches in silence, Seth thought that he could not blame the boy for missing her. He missed her visits a little himself, but of course how could anyone with a half-eaten tinned beef and ketchup sandwich in hand not miss the home-cooked meals? That was the only reason, he told himself, that his heart had jumped in his chest just a little when he had heard the sound earlier in the kitchen.

  The following day, Miss Sanders’ voice sounded especially pure, like a well-tuned instrument, as she sang “There Is a Fountain” at church. From the corner of his eye he could see how Thomas stared up at her with an enraptured little smile. He thought over the situation and decided that because the boy had grown so fond of her, it would be good to keep some casual contact. His conscience would be soothed as well by his showing her that even though there was no possibility of their having a future together, they could maintain a neighborly acquaintance. “Now remember,” he instructed Thomas in a low voice as they waited at the side of the yard after church. “You mustn’t ask her about cooking for us, or visiting or anything like that.”

  “Yes, Father,” the boy replied obediently, in spite of the questioning look in his blue eyes.

  Seth prompted himself as well. If she even hints at marriage, I’ll change the subject and we’ll leave as soon as politely possible.

  Presently Miss Sanders emerged from the building. Thomas hurried over to greet her. “Good day, Miss Sanders!”

  “Thomas! How good to see you!”

  “It’s good to see you too,” he replied, basking under her affectionate smile.

  Her smile did not waver at Seth’s approach, but the expression in her hazel eyes became just a little more formal. “Mr. Langford. How are you?”

  “Fine, thank you. And you?”

  “Very well, thank you.” She nodded toward the lane, where Seth could see one of the older brothers seated at the reins of the Sanders wagon. “I’d best be going now.” With a parting smile for Seth and a touch of her hand upon Thomas’s shoulder, she walked on toward the wagon.

  That came off better than I expected, Seth thought as he hefted himself up in Soot’s saddle with Thomas at his side astride Lucy. She had kept her promise about not pursuing him after the seventh Saturday and even seemed to have no bitter feelings about it.

&n
bsp; Later, as he and Thomas cleaned the kitchen after a dinner of fried eggs and porridge, the boy looked up from a bowl he was drying and said, “That’s the same so ng.” Seth blinked at him. “What?” “That song you were humming. It’s the same one Miss Sanders was singing this morning.” “Is it indeed?” Means nothing, he told himself.

  Chapter 41

  Saturday, November nineteenth, dawned cold but windless and sunny, perfect for setting up two targets and marking shooting lines on the village green. Prescott’s team, along with any spectators from that village, was due to arrive before ten o’clock. The time was very agreeable to Mr. Pool, for the tournament would likely take a couple of hours. Homemade signboards were propped in conspicuous places along the green, advertising that sandwiches and soup could be purchased at the Bow and Fiddle. Not to be outdone, Mr. Johnson planted his own signs next to Mr. Pool’s, touting the Scotch eggs, meat pies, and sweets available at his bakery.

  And to add their contribution to the event, the Women’s Charity Society, of which Mrs. Kingston and Mrs. Durwin were members, had set up a hospitality table to provide free lemonade and samples of cheese donated from the squire’s factory. While Mr. Raleigh, Luke Smith, and Vicar Phelps directed members of the archery team in stance drills, villagers exchanged pleasantries and gossip. Miss Clark enlisted the four secondary school boys to carry thirty-six chairs from the town hall for the comfort of any elderly or infirmed spectators.

  “You know, we graduated a year too soon,” Ben said to Philip while hooking the back of a chair from each elbow to bring outside. “First a merry-go-round and now archery!”

  Philip caught up two more chairs in the same manner. “I’m so relieved to be back home, they could form a trapeze team and I wouldn’t be jealous.”

  Sending a curious look at him, Ben asked, “It was that bad?”

  “Awful.” He gave a feeble shrug because of the weight of the chairs. “But now that it’s over, I’m rather glad it happened. I had always dreamed of practicing medicine in a big hospital as my father did, but now I believe I’d like to move back here after university and work with Doctor Rhodes. He’s already mentioned wanting me to take over his practice when he’s no longer able to make calls.”