Tenacious Trents 02 - A Perfect Gentleman

by Jane Charles

  His chest tightened. He should not have chastised her. Miss Cooper had done nothing wrong. Matthew just wondered why he was so irritable of late. He knew his duty and what was expected of him, but why was it so hard, almost as if he were forcing himself to read and write the sermon. It did not need to be completed and memorized until the end of the week but he knew from experience that if he put it off even one day he would find an excuse to put it off for another until Friday arrived and he had no choice and usually prepared a poor excuse of a sermon. That had been his experience the times he substituted for an absent vicar or when it was his turn in larger churches. Those sermons were important, but not as the ones he now needed to deliver in his own church so why was it so difficult to get on with the necessary work?

  He poured tea into his cup and settled back into this chair. Instead of continuing with his work he watched out the window. Miss Cooper had settled on a blanket beneath the tree. The children surrounded her and she handed an apple to each of them. He didn’t know what to make of her. Tardy this morning, playing with the children this afternoon. Though she acted young, he could tell she was of an age to marry and wondered why she hadn’t. She certainly was pleasant to look upon. With such deep green eyes, and shimmering dark hair, no doubt she turned many a head. There was something about that young woman that rattled his brain. No woman had ever flummoxed him before, nor had he ever been reduced to incoherency because of a lovely face, and kissable lips.

  Matthew stood suddenly, spilling the lukewarm tea onto his coat. Where had those thoughts come from? She was a parishioner in his church and not only that, she’d mocked him. He should not have even noticed she was pretty, or had lips, and Miss Cooper was the last person he should be thinking such thoughts about. He couldn’t remember noticing a woman’s eyes and lips before. Why did he remember hers?

  The children squealed with laughter and he looked back out the window. Miss Cooper shushed them. Why had he been so hard on the children, and her? They were just having a bit of fun. Perhaps it was jealousy, as it was behavior he would not have exhibited. He never had, nor been allowed to have fun. Not even as a child, and he never would.

  Matthew blew out a breath. Thinking about the children and Miss Cooper was not how one prepared a sermon so he must put them from his mind. He picked up his notes and began to read what had already been written. More laughter intruded on his solitude. He tossed the parchment onto the desk. He would get nothing done while they were about. Was there nowhere else they could go? Then again, he really shouldn’t kick anyone off of the church property. It just seemed wrong to do such a thing.

  Since he would be unable to concentrate on the sermon, Matthew put the notes away and picked up the list of families in the parish. He needed to visit each of them this week. It was important that he get to know each and every one of them. And though he loathed gossip, he knew he would hear about other families during his visit. He hoped this parish was different from his encounters in London, but did not hold out any hope.

  What was the best way to schedule his visits so nobody felt slighted? Perhaps alphabetically. Nobody could argue with that. He read through the list and dismissed the idea. Such a plan would put him at Miss Cooper’s house on the second day. The last person he needed to encounter so soon was Miss Cooper with her deep green eyes.

  Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose. He must stop thinking about those big, expressive eyes with the thick, dark lashes. He stared across the room and attempted to erase her face from his mind and then turned back to the list. A smile pulled at his lips. He knew exactly how to plan his visits so she would be one of the last and would put him at the Cooper household on Friday, at the earliest. That was plenty of time to forget the young woman.

  Grace placed the plate holding a piece of apple tart before her father, then took a seat beside him. “Here you go, Papa. It’s still warm.”

  He did not say thank you, but he looked up and offered a half smile. She missed hearing his voice. He picked up his spoon and began to eat. She sighed and poured tea into her cup. A breeze blew a loose curl across her face, and she tucked it behind her ear before she sipped her tea and looked out at the land. She loved this time of day. The terrace was shaded, and she and her father could enjoy the outdoors in the afternoon.

  If only he could speak. She had been waiting for two years

  “Miss Cooper?”

  She turned the find Mrs. Thomas, the maid, cook and caregiver for her father, standing at the door. “Mr. Richards has come to call.”

  She should have expected Mr. Richards. He always called on Friday. She placed her cup into the saucer and stood. “I’ll be right in.”

  “Mr. Draker and Mr. Thorn are here as well.”

  Grace stopped short. All three of them? This was unusual indeed. Mr. Draker came by on Saturday and Mr. Thorn, Monday. Why were they all here at once?

  “Mrs. Thomas, could you please sit in the chair by the window?” It was the same seat she always took. From that place Mrs. Thomas could keep an eye on her father and also act as chaperone by being in the same room with Grace when a gentleman came to call.

  “Of course.” The woman smiled. “As soon as I prepare another pot of tea and plate of biscuits.

  This gave Grace a few moments to gather her thoughts. She would not go in until Mrs. Thomas returned with the tea. She sipped from her cup again and studied her father. He placed his spoon on the now empty plate and settled back in his chair and looked at her, eyebrows raised in speculation.

  “I don’t know why they are all here at once. I wish they would leave me be.”

  He frowned.

  She fell back in her chair and heaved a heavy sigh. “Oh, I wish I knew what you were really thinking instead of having to guess.”

  One eyebrow rose and with his left hand, grabbed the ring finger on his limp right hand.

  “I know, I know. You think I should marry.”

  He offered a quick nod.

  “But I don’t want to marry any of them,” she whispered so not to be overheard.

  He tilted his head. After two years, she knew he asked why.

  “I don’t love them, and they don’t love me, and I don’t see there ever being love.”

  He shook his head in a slow manner. Disappointment showed in his faded green eyes, taking the sparkle out.

  Grace reached over and grabbed his hand. “Besides, I want to stay here, with you.”

  He pulled his hand away and grabbed his right ring finger again. They had similar discussions in the past and she knew, or at least thought she knew, he wanted her married and not stuck here for years taking care of him.

  “Papa, how can I leave home? Who would take care of you?”

  He raised his left arm and with his thumb pointed to the door. Was he telling her to get out? He had never before suggested so strongly she leave and her heart constricted.

  Mrs. Thomas walked back through the door and Grace relaxed a bit. Her father wasn’t kicking her out, but telling her Mrs. Thomas would see to him. It was a relief, but surely he understood that Mrs. Thomas could not be here all of the time. She only came in the morning and left before dinner because she had her own family. Though her children were now married and moved away, she did have a husband of her own to take care of.

  “The tea and biscuits have been delivered, Miss Cooper.”

  “Very well, I suppose I should see to my guests.” She rose and kissed her father on the cheek before she made her way to the parlor.

  The three gentlemen stood at various places in the room. Mr. Richards, with his blond hair and brown eyes leaned negligently against the fireplace mantle. There was a feminine quality about Mr. Richards that always seemed odd to her, not that she would ever mention to anyone. Mr. Draker stood by the bookshelf. His black hair was askew and she suspected he brought his curricle on this call. He drummed his fingers with impatience upon the shelf. Mr. Thorn, with his red hair and hazel eyes, stood at the window. She wondered if he had eavesdropped on he
r conversation with her father then doubted he could hear much as they had sat further away and on the other side of the door.

  Mrs. Thomas followed her in, picked up her embroidery and settled into the seat she often occupied while Grace met with guests.

  “Good afternoon, Gentlemen. It is a surprise to see all three of you here.”

  She sat in the chair at the end of the center table. There were two settees she bypassed, because then one of her suitors would have to sit next to her. Mr. Draker settled on the settee to her left and Mr. Thorn sat in the opposite seat. Apparently, they didn’t want to sit next to each other either.

  She reached forward and grasped the teapot handle to pour the tea. “Mr. Richards, two sugars, correct?”

  He nodded his head and she handed him the cup.

  “Mr. Draker, I believe you only like milk?”

  “Yes, thank you.” He took the saucer from her hand, his fingers brushed hers. Grace tried not to yank her hand back.

  “I believe you don’t take anything, Mr. Thorn?”

  He smiled at her. “It is kind of you to remember.”

  She held the plate up. “Biscuits anyone?” Only Mr. Draker took one, but he had no chance to touch her again.

  Grace poured her own cup of tea, sipped and waited for one of them to speak. They looked at each other, as if waiting for someone to begin the conversation.

  Mrs. Thomas stood and walked out of the room. Grace would have asked why she was leaving her father untended but she did not want to run after the woman and leave these gentlemen sitting again. Besides, if Mrs. Thomas left, she had good reason and since she didn’t appear to be hurried, Grace decided not to be concerned.

  “It is lovely weather we are having, isn’t it.” Grace offered so at least someone was speaking at this uncomfortable gathering.

  “Yes, yes it is,” Mr. Thorn was quick to agree.

  Mr. Richards placed his cup and saucer on the table. “Miss Cooper, we did not come here to discuss the weather.”

  She smiled at him. “It would be a very short conversation if you had.”

  Mrs. Thomas walked back through the room. This time she carried a tray with a cup and saucer, and a plate of biscuits. Grace wondered who had called. Lord Crew was away visiting his daughter and new grandchild and he was the only gentlemen she knew of who cut through the woods and hills separating the two estates to visit her father. She would always be grateful to her father’s old friend because he still called, after all this time and would sit with her father for hours. Too bad Lord Crew didn’t have any eligible sons, not that they would consider a poor and destitute gentleman’s daughter, but it would have been easier to marry into a family who would not consider her father less worthy because of his injuries.

  “We, the three of us, think it is time you made a decision,” Mr. Draker announced.

  Grace placed her tea on the table and sat back. “Decision?”

  “Yes, which one of us are you going to marry?” Mr. Richards clarified.

  Goodness, she was thankful to have set her drink down or she may have spilled it on her gown. “Marriage?”

  “Clearly it has not escaped your notice that each of us has been courting you,” Mr. Draker talked down to her. Of the three, he was the one she liked the least. Though he was solicitous, there were times he spoke to her as if she were a child and Grace knew she could never marry a man who thought so little of her intellect.

  “I have suspected.”

  “Though I don’t wish to be indelicate, Miss Grace, you are getting on in years and it is time you marry before it is too late,” Mr. Thorn offered.

  She bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing at Mr. Thorn. Of the three, he was the kindest in his wording. He often started his sentences, when something was uncomfortable, “I don’t wish to be indelicate”, or “I don’t wish to insult”, or something similar. However, at the age of twenty she did not think she was even close to spinsterhood.

  “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Thorn.”

  “So, which one of us will it be?” Mr. Richards demanded. He was the least patient of the three. Always to the point. She wondered if that is what made him a successful businessman.

  She studied each gentleman. While they had something to recommend them individually, there were more reasons they would not suit her. This was not going to be easy but as they had pressed the issue, it was time she informed them of her thoughts.

  “I cannot marry at this time in my life. Surely you understand.”

  Mr. Richards stood. “No, I do not understand.” He walked behind the settee and paced.

  “I cannot leave my father. Who would take care of him?”

  This time Mr. Thorn stood. “Miss Cooper, I would be honored to take care of you and your father. You need not worry about him.”

  That was the first time anyone made this offer.

  “Of course, you would need to live at my home, but there is plenty of room for all of us. It is a large house. Why, even with your father in residence there is still plenty of room for any children we are blessed with.”

  Her stomach clenched. The idea of having children, or the means required to obtain such children, was not something she wished to experience with anyone in the room. Not that she knew exactly what people did to conceive a child, but she had lived in the country her entire life, was familiar with mating rituals of animals and didn’t want any of these three that close to her person, assuming humans performed a similar act.

  “This is my father’s home. I could not even think of removing him from it. Besides, who would take care of the house and lands if I no longer lived here?”

  Mr. Richards sat forward. “I would hire a house full of servants. They could take care of your father, and the land. I see no reason why you couldn’t visit him up to once a week to see how he fared.”

  Once a week? If she did marry and move away, she would certainly want to visit her father more often than that.

  “It isn’t as if he would even know whether you were here or not,” Mr. Richards continued.

  Anger shot through her and Grace stood. “He most certainly would know, Mr. Richards.”

  “Come now, Miss, Cooper,” Mr. Draker began. “We know he can’t speak and can barely take care of himself. The accident reduced him to a simpleton. A child of five has more comprehension than your father.”

  Graced seethed. They knew nothing about her father. Had they once bothered to sit with him after the accident? No. In fact, few in the village knew anything about the progress he’d made and assumed his lack of speech meant he could no longer think or feel for that matter.

  She looked at each of them. They watched her, sympathy in their eyes. Yes, seeing her father reduced to being able to use only his left arm and hand, and only communicate with his face or touch was difficult, but he was still an intelligent man. She would never consider handing his care over to anyone who could not see that.

  “My answer is no, to each of you.”

  Their jaws dropped. How could they expect her answer to be anything else? If anyone was a simpleton, it was they.

  “Miss Grace, I insist you reconsider. It is for your own good.”

  “I can decide for myself, what is for my own good, Mr. Draker.”

  “But someone needs to take care of you. A young woman needs a man to look out for her best interests.”

  She turned to Mr. Thorn. “I am well capable of determining my own best interests.”

  “How long before your uncle arrives to take over? We know he would make you marry one of us and not care what happened to your father.”

  That was her biggest fear. “I thank you for your concern, Mr. Richards, but I will deal with my uncle, if and when he ever comes to visit.”

  “Which should be shortly, I assume,” Mr. Draker added.

  A chill of foreboding ran up her spine. “Why do you expect my uncle to visit since he has not bothered to in well over two years?”

  “Someone had to prevail upon him. As
your next of kin, he should come and take responsibility of you and your father.”

  How dare they make such a decision? It was not in their right to do so. She could only pray her uncle ignored the letter.

  “We each wrote to him, Miss Cooper,” Mr. Richards added.

  Her stomach tightened and Grace feared she would be ill.

  “He is now made aware of our regard for you and can make his decision when he arrives.”

  Grace shot to her feet. “It is not his decision to make.”

  “There, there, Miss Cooper, there is no need to become emotional.”

  “I am not emotional,” she bit out. “I am livid.”

  They each stared at her as if she had gone mad. “If you are leaving this to my uncle, why bother to visit me today?”

  “We had hoped you would at least announce which one you are partial to so that we can make the request to your uncle, and rightful guardian.”

  She inhaled deeply through her nose, closed her eyes and willed herself to be calm before she did physical damage to one of them. The vase by the window would suffice for crashing over one of their heads.

  When she gained control of her anger, Grace opened her eyes. They each stood there looking at her, expectantly. Did they think she had changed her mind? “Gentlemen, my answer is still no. Now, I need to get back to my father and I wish you all a good day.”

  She marched from the room and stopped short of the door when she turned to them once again. “Besides, not one of you actually asked for my hand in marriage. I would never marry a man who gave me so little consideration, regardless of whether my uncle orders it or not.” She whipped her chin up, turned and strode from the room without a backward glance.