“You don’t?”
“Not now. Several months ago he accused me of something so vile that I cannot forgive him.”
“Never? Oh, Miss Tabitha, you must forgive him. Have you not read the Good Book? God wants us to forgive—”
“Yes, I’ve read the Good Book, and although I might be sinning for refusing to forgive Lord Hawthorne, I just cannot. Not yet.”
“But it’s been six months.”
Her mind came to a halt. Had she told him how long it’d been? No, she specifically remembered telling him several instead of an actual number. Only Nic would know it had been that long ago. She highly doubted the clergyman would know.
She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. My heart is not allowing me to forgive him.”
He stopped again, and leaned on his walking stick. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”
“Nothing.”
“Well, I shall pray for you that your heart may be softened soon.”
She fisted her hands and quickly folded her arms to keep him from seeing. “I thank you for your concern, Mr. Woodland.”
“You know,” he continued, stepping closer, “my cousin really is a good man, and he does have a kind heart.”
“So his only flaws are that he’s judgmental and speaks without thinking first?” She shook her head. “Oh, that can’t be all of his flaws. He is arrogant beyond belief which is probably his worst imperfection.”
His jaw hardened and she noticed a muscle in his cheek jump. She tried not to laugh. Obviously, he didn’t like hearing the truth. Well, if he was playing the clergyman and trying to fool her and the rest of the town, she would make his life difficult. One way or another, she’d make him confess and come out of hiding.
* * * *
A few awkward seconds passed as Nic boiled inside. He fought a constant battle, both with his mind and his heart. Honestly, he didn’t think Tabitha should hate him this much, yet now he knew her true feelings.
How could he convince her he wasn’t such a bad man? How could he make her see he indeed had a heart and was kind? No matter what Frederick said, Nic knew his cousin’s plan wasn’t going to work. But Nic didn’t dare confess to her right now. Perhaps another day.
“As I’m sure you are aware,” he said slowly, trying to think of something a minister would say, “we are all imperfect people. Only God is perfect.”
“Yes, I’m aware.” She started walking.
Her expression was hard, and her eyes were sad. His heart tugged, and he wished he knew what to do so she would think differently about him. He’d do anything he could. True, his ego couldn’t stand knowing that a woman didn’t hold him in high regard, but mainly he couldn’t stand knowing that she wouldn’t forgive him. He’d been human six months ago when he thought she’d killed those two lords for abusing their servants. What else was Nic supposed to think when he’d overheard her telling Sally one time that she had wished Lord Elliot’s death, and then another time when he’d heard Tabitha tell Diana that she had thought about killing Lord Elliot and Lord Hollingsworth with her bare hands. How could he not assume the worst?
A few more minutes passed in silence, and guilt weighed heavily on his chest. Taking a deep breath, he released it slowly. Perhaps he needed to change the subject. Talking about the past was disturbing her greatly. He needed to make her happy again.
“So, Miss Tabitha? When will you allow me to hear your beautiful singing voice again?”
She stumbled and gazed at him with wide eyes. “Are you jesting?”
“Not at all. I have thought of nothing else since hearing you last evening. I would like it very much if you’d grace my congregation on Sunday and sing us a hymn.”
A laugh burst from her mouth, sounding more like a snort. She shook her head, but a smile stretched across her face.
“Mr. Woodland, I think you’re insane for wanting to hear me sing again. The only reason I tried to sing last night was because Aunt Clara requested it.”
“Then perhaps I should have your aunt request you sing a hymn on Sunday?”
Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. “Not if you don’t want to walk with a permanent limp.”
It was his turn to let out a loud laugh. “Oh, Miss Tabitha, you are truly a spirited woman, and you say the most humorous things. I enjoy that.”
“Then if you wish to keep enjoying my humor, I suggest you not ask me to sing again.”
“If you insist. I would hate for you to hide the talent God has given you.”
She didn’t say anything to him, but turned her head to gaze across the sea. He wanted to say something that would make her happy—that would make him happy to see her smiling once again. But his mind drew a blank. Not very often did that happen.
“Oh look,” she said, pointing down toward the beach, “there is Mr. Jacobs.”
Nic peered toward the beach. Mr. Jacobs looked to be enjoying the late morning with his daughter, Joanna. The seven-year-old girl dashed away, looking on the sand as if she searched for something. Her father limped along, leaning heavily on his crutch. Jacobs called for Joanna to come back, but she got farther away. He hobbled quickly to try and catch up to his daughter.
Immediately, Nic could see Joanna wasn’t listening and not doing what her father had asked. As the girl ran closer to the water, Jacob’s voice lifted in panic. The girl reached the damp sand and stumbled. Within seconds, she disappeared into what looked to be a hole. Jacobs tried to run, but, because of his gimp leg, he tripped and fell to his knees.
Nic peered across the water. Tide was coming in, and quickly. If they didn’t get that girl out of the hole, the water would soon cover her—and drown her.
Chapter Six
“Oh, good heavens!” Tabitha gasped, before breaking into a run, and heading down the slope toward Joanna.
Urgency kicked Nic into action and he ran ahead of Tabitha, dashing down the cliff’s trail toward the girl. Jacob screamed his daughter’s name as he struggled to stand. Up ahead, Joanna’s hair could be seen as she bobbed inside the hole. She sobbed for her father.
The tide crept closer. Nic didn’t have time to stop and assist Mr. Jacobs. Instead, Nic sprinted toward the girl. Mere seconds before he reached her, the water rolled in, filling the hole.
Surprisingly, the hole was larger than Nic had expected—big enough for two. He slid down inside. When his hands brushed against a smaller body, he grasped her and pulled her up above the water level. Another wave came toward him quickly.
“Hold your breath again,” he told the girl. Within seconds the water hit them, covering them once more. As the tide moved out, so did some of the water. He lifted Joanna higher so that her head was above water.
“Give me your hands, Joanna,” Tabitha called.
Blinking the water out of his eyes, Nic tried to focus on Tabitha. She lay near the hole, her hands stretched out, as she latched on to Joanna’s arms. The girl sobbed and flayed her arms, trying to get out as quickly as possible.
“Hold still, Joanna. I’ve got you,” Nic reassured her as he lifted her toward Tabitha. As she pulled, Nic pushed the little girl until she was out of the hole. As soon as Joanna was on her feet, she broke into a run toward her father.
“Grab this limb,” Tabitha instructed as she pushed the broken tree branch toward Nic, “and I’ll help you out.”
It took all of his strength to climb out of the sandy, slippery hole, but within minutes, he was out. Taking deep breaths, he inhaled the fresh air. He swiped his wet hair away from his face and nodded. “Thank you for thinking so quickly.” He glanced at the tree branch.
“Thank heavens it was close by.” She paused briefly, and then asked, “Are you all right.”
“I’m fine.” He motioned his head toward Mr. Jacobs and the little girl in his arms. “But we need to check on them.”
“I agree.” Tabitha hurried toward the blacksmith. The man was limping harder than before, but Sally was beside him, helping him walk.
When the three of them
reached Nic, Mr. Jacobs’ eyes were misty. “Thank you, Mr. Woodland. You saved my girl from drowning.”
Nodding, Nic wiped away the mixture of water and sand still clinging to his face. “I’m just relieved I was here to help.”
Mr. Jacobs looked at Tabitha and gave her a grateful smile. “I thank you for your assistance as well, Miss Tabitha.” He switched his attention to Sally. “And yours, of course.”
“Would you like us to help you back to your house?” Tabitha moved her attention to Joanna. Tabitha’s expression softened as she stroked the girl’s cheek. “We would be more than happy to help you both.”
“That’s very kind of you, Miss Tabitha.” Jacobs beamed. “I’d greatly appreciate your help if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, Mr. Jacobs. Sally and I would be very happy to.” Tabitha looked at Nic, sweeping her gaze over him from head to toe. “Mr. Woodland, how are you faring? Since you have just recovered from being ill, I fear you are probably very weak right now.”
His heart lightened to know she was worried about him—even if only a little. “I’m actually fine now. I thank you for your concern.”
“Well, thank you for taking the time to talk with me earlier. I think you should return home and get changed before you catch your death with a chill, as well.”
“Indeed, I will.” He offered a small smile.
And with that, she and her maid walked Jacobs and his daughter back up the trail, toward the other man’s home. Dripping wet, Nic stood and watched them until they disappeared from sight. She was right, and he should hurry home to get out of these wet clothes, but he wasn’t sure he liked the way she had so easily dismissed him and then walked off with another man as if Nic had never been standing here at all.
Grumbling, he stomped back up the trail all the way home. When he opened the door and walked inside, he closed the door so hard the walls shook. Frederick scrambled from the kitchen, his eyes enlarged with surprise.
“What are you doing—” Frederick gasped. “Why are you wet?”
“Because I rescued a little girl from drowning.” Nic raked his fingers through his hair, removing more of the wetness and sand.
“Oh, dear. Who was it?” Frederick hurried to Nic’s side, helping him remove his overcoat.
“Jacobs’ daughter, Joanna. She fell in a hole near the beach and the tide came in and filled the hole quickly.”
Frederick wrinkled his forehead. “A hole? Are you sure?”
Nic rolled his eyes. “I’d think by now I’d know what a hole looks like. And since I was nearly trapped inside with her, I can assure you, it was a hole.”
“But there aren’t any holes that large near the beach.”
“Nevertheless, she fell into one and I climbed in to help her out.”
“Unbelievable.” Frederick shook his head in amazement. “Is she all right?”
“Yes, she’s a little shaken, but she’s fine,” Nic snapped.
“What has you so irritated?”
Once his overcoat was removed, he worked the knot loose on his cravat. “Before this all happened, I’d been visiting with Tabitha and hearing how much she loathes Lord Hawthorne.” He met his cousin’s gaze. “I really feel the need to tell her about our switch so I can at least defend myself and explain why I had accused her of murder.”
“You can’t.” Frederick folded his arms and scowled. “If you say anything, she’s going to mention it to her aunt. Not only that, but her resentment toward you will have the others in town wondering why she hates the clergyman so much. If that happens, then others will become suspicious. It’s bad enough right now that someone in my parish is a thief and making it look like I’m the one taking these items.” He shook his head, frowning. “Right now I need to do all I can to make myself look good. I cannot have people blaming me for something I didn’t do. I cannot lose their trust. Not now. Not ever!”
Nic pulled off his shirt and wadded it into a ball. Fury raged inside him, but mainly because he couldn’t do what he knew was right in his heart. Yet, Frederick made sense. They didn’t need everyone in town being suspicious of Tabitha’s actions.
Growling, he tightened his hold on his crumpled shirt, wringing out more water in the wash basin. “Fine, I won’t say anything to her. I’m not happy about it, but I will keep my mouth shut.”
“And look at it this way.” Frederick moved closer and took the bunched up shirt from Nic. “During this time, you—as the clergyman—can be doing everything possible to make her like Lord Hawthorne once again.”
“No, I don’t think that’s possible.” Nic walked away from his cousin and to the window, peering out onto the street, now busy with the townspeople going from one shop to another. “I cannot think of anything that I could do. She simply doesn’t like me, and discussing Lord Hawthorne only sets her on edge.”
“Perhaps you can just become her friend.”
Nic glanced over his shoulder at Frederick. “Friends?”
“Of course. Go on long walks with her and discuss anything—the weather, her life, her great aunt. Find out what she likes to do in her leisure time; what kind of flowers are her favorite, or what she likes to eat. In fact, invite her and Mrs. Burls over for dinner. Take Miss Tabitha some flowers or candy, whatever you can do to soften her heart. Gradually, she’ll start to trust you and even like you.”
“You are not thinking rationally.” Nic turned away from the window and leaned back against the wall. “If I’m seen taking her flowers or candy, then the townspeople will think Mr. Woodland is trying to court Miss Tabitha.”
Frederick laughed. “And what’s wrong with that?”
“You haven’t courted anyone since your wife died.”
“No, I haven’t, however that doesn’t mean I won’t eventually find a woman who interests me. It’s been six years, my parishioners expects that I’ll eventually emerge from grief enough to look for another wife.”
Nic grinned out of the corner of his mouth. “Very true. There’s always Miss Mildred Talbot. Perhaps I should start paying her extra attention while I’m playing you.” He wagged his eyebrows.
Frederick scowled. “You will not do that with Miss Talbot, or anyone else for that matter! However, we aren’t discussing my life. We are talking about yours and what you should do.”
“Actually, we are discussing your life, because I’m the one playing you! Oh, this is so confusing.” Waving his hands in a dismissive wave, Nic walked to the chair to collect his wet coat and shirt. “Nevertheless, I understand what you’re saying. Let me think on it today. I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do about Tabitha.”
“You’ll figure it out. I have confidence in you,” Frederick said as he moved back into the kitchen.
Nic hurried upstairs to his room. Once inside, he closed the door and sat on the edge of his bed, pulling off his damp boots, which was no easy task. After a few minutes, he had his boots and socks pulled off and searched for a towel. As he passed the full-length mirror, he took a quick glimpse. Then stopped dead in his tracks. Staring at himself, worry washed over him like a bucket of cold water, making him colder than he already was. The powder in his hair had come completely out! His true hair color was on display.
Blast it all! Had Tabitha seen him like this? If she did, he prayed that she didn’t suspect. Considering he didn’t pray often, he really hoped God was answering his prayer now.
* * * *
Tabitha wasn’t an idiot, and if anyone called her one, she’d have plenty to say while stating her case.
The proof was quite plain—the man she’d spent the afternoon with and who rescued the child was not Mr. Woodland, but Dominic Lawrence. Once the water had splashed all over him, the powder in his hair had been removed, revealing his true colors. She now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the clergyman was indeed, Lord Hawthorne.
Whatever reason he had for playing the preacher, she didn’t know, but at this point, she’d let him believe he had fooled her. Until, of course, she dis
covered what was really going on.
Tabitha and Sally had a nice little visit with Mr. Jacobs and his daughter earlier this afternoon. He really was a nice man, and eager to please. Then again, she had heard that he was searching for a wife. Tabitha didn’t want to give him the impression that she would be open for an offer, but nonetheless, she did have a pleasant visit.
When she and Sally had arrived back at Aunt Clara’s, Mrs. Stiles had plenty for them to do. They headed back into town to do some shopping while Aunt Clara rested. Mrs. Stiles was such a busybody, chatting with everyone who walked by. She was also very forgetful, Tabitha noticed, because the older woman insisted on introducing Tabitha to everyone she’d met last evening at her aunt’s party. Thankfully, Tabitha didn’t have to say anything because the others mentioned to Mrs. Stiles that they had previously met Tabitha.
By now the news of Joanna’s rescue had spread through town. A lot of people were happy to hear that Mr. Woodland had saved the girl, and they oohed and ahhed over his heroics. Hearing how proud these people were of Nic grated on Tabitha’s nerves a little. Mainly, because it surprised her that he would think of someone other than himself. A niggle of doubt crept into her head, and she was almost ashamed for disliking him so much.
Another part of the rescue that had the town buzzing with curiosity was when Tabitha had assisted Mr. Jacobs home and stayed in his house for three hours. It didn’t matter to them that her maid was with her the whole time; these people couldn’t stop chatting about it.
Tabitha couldn’t believe how many people had something to say about the kind, and lonely, Mr. Jacobs and how he needed a good wife to help him raise his precious daughter. Although Tabitha agreed with them, she didn’t want to be considered a candidate for the position like everyone seemed to believe she was already.
Their journey into town lasted longer than Tabitha wanted, and by the time they returned home, she was exhausted. While Sally helped Mrs. Stiles prepare dinner in the kitchen, Tabitha wandered into the music room. The pianoforte beckoned her to sit and run her fingers along the keys.
The Sweetest Secret Page 6