by Lori Wick
“He said everything started there. What did he mean by that?”
“Just that, Jennings,” Palmer put in, not wanting the matter to be complicated. “The earth’s beginnings, man’s beginning, the first family—the list is endless.”
“The first family?”
“Yes. God gave Eve to Adam, and they became husband and wife. They were the first family. In fact, it’s significant for us to remember that it was the last thing He made during creation week.”
Jennings had to think on this. The things he was hearing and seeing at this church were different from anything he’d heard before. They were smashing all of his preconceived notions to pieces. It was almost more than he could take in.
“After church,” Jennings said as he recalled, “on the way over here, I heard Thomas and James talking about eternity. Do you actually believe that ones so young can understand such things?”
“Eternity is a large subject, Jennings; I’ll grant you that,” Walker replied, fielding the question. “But understanding it is not a requirement to knowing that God can and will save us from our sin.”
“And you believe those children sin?”
“The Bible says they’re slaves to sin. Once we’ve surrendered to God’s Son and He saves us, that’s no longer true, but man is a slave to sin prior to that moment. It sounds as though Thomas and James have accepted Christ, so their sin is covered by Christ’s death on the cross, but yes, I believe they were born sinners, and although forgiven, they’ll sin until the day they die.”
Jennings had to shake his head. Sin was not what little children did. Sins had been committed by Mrs Smith—that was obvious—but the Jennings children were not even capable of such things.
“Is there anything else I can tell you, Jennings?” Walker asked the man who now sat very quietly.
“I don’t think so. Thank you, sir.”
“Well, if ever you wish to discuss it some more, please come to see me.”
“When did you start to believe this?” Jennings asked.
“When Palmer and Lydia did. About seven years ago there was a small revival in our area, as God called many of us and we came to Christ.”
Jennings frowned.
“When we say, ‘came to Christ,’” Palmer added, “we’re talking about that moment when we agreed with God that we couldn’t save ourselves and believed on His Son to rescue us.”
Jennings nodded—that had been the question in his mind. He realized there was more he wished to know but found himself relieved when there was a knock on the door. It was Mrs Walker.
“Would you care to join us, Mr Walker? We’re headed to the patio for lemonade.”
“We’ll be there shortly, Mrs Walker. Thank you.”
The men talked a little more, and by the time they joined the ladies, the children had converged on the lemonade table. Penny was in Marianne’s lap, glass in hand, looking as though she’d been there all her life.
“It’s a warm day, Penny. Maybe Marianne would like to sit on her own.”
“She’s fine, Thomas, thank you,” Marianne replied.
Watching Marianne’s gentle way with Penny, Jennings was struck by how different the women at church had been from his female contacts in London. Just the day before he’d complained about a woman’s behavior to gain a man’s attention. He realized now that he’d seen no evidence of that type of deceit the two mornings he’d been to church.
“Mrs Walker?” Frank and Thomas had come to that lady’s chair. “May we go in and play pool?”
“Of course you may, Frank. You know the way.”
Frank and Thomas went toward the house, both remembering to say thanks for the lemonade. When Walt and James finished their glasses, they followed in their wake.
“It’s a good thing Mari’s not joining them,” Walker commented, drawing a look from his wife and a small smile from his daughter.
“Do you play pool, Miss Walker?” Jennings asked, his interest piqued.
“On occasion,” she said, smiling a little and wondering at her own embarrassment. Penny had climbed from her lap to play with Lizzy and Emma, and Marianne found herself wishing she had something to do with her hands.
“Come along, Mari,” Lydia said as she stood. “I’ll take you on in archery.”
“Put the dogs away!” Walker cried in teasing as the two women left in laughter.
They walked across the lawn side by side and were well away from the back patio when Lydia spoke.
“I think your father embarrassed you, Mari. Am I right?”
“I can’t think why, Liddy, but you are right,” the younger woman admitted. “I’ve played pool for years, and now suddenly I feel foolish.”
“I’m sure it was Jennings’ presence.”
Marianne sighed. “You’re probably right. We don’t know each other at all, and his face is not an easy one to read.”
“That’s certainly true.”
The ladies had arrived at the archery table. It was set up with everything they needed. They slipped protective covers onto their left forearms and fitted the fingers of their right hands with the small leather sheaths.
“You go ahead,” Marianne invited. “I have the advantage of being in my own yard.”
“Very sporting of you,” Lydia said with a smile, but did not decline.
By the third shot, Lydia was frowning, proclaiming that her game was off this day. She had often beat Marianne in the past, so Marianne had no choice but to agree with her. They had just started their second game when the gentlemen joined them. They sat by the table, some 30 feet to their side, to watch the show.
“You’re going to make us nervous,” Lydia said just as she let an arrow fly. It was a fine shot and stuck in the center circle.
“Come now, Liddy,” Jennings said to her. “We know what a fine shot you are.”
Lydia only sent him a look as Marianne let one fly. The arrow stuck hard in the bull’s-eye.
The men clapped and cheered so Lydia was able to speak for Marianne’s ears alone.
“I don’t know how you managed that when you’re shaking so hard.”
“Why am I so nervous around Jennings?”
“He just has that effect.”
“Let’s have teams!” Palmer suggested, and Marianne had all she could do not to groan.
“You’ll do fine,” Lydia whispered as the men approached.
Marianne waited only until Jennings was at her side.
“I’m not sure you’re getting the best partner, Mr Jennings.”
“I witnessed your last shot, Miss Walker. I’m not worried.”
Marianne was opening her mouth to repeat herself, but Jennings’ whisper cut her off.
“We’ll beat them.”
Marianne could have said plenty to that, but the game was already underway. Jennings shot true, but it had been a while since he’d played. Palmer hit two bull’s-eyes in a row, and that didn’t help, but by the last game the Palmers led by only one point.
“All right, Miss Walker,” Jennings said, growing more relaxed by the second. He had just bent to whisper in her ear, “Keep your shoulders relaxed on this one, and you’ll do just fine.”
Aware of his large presence behind her, Marianne nodded and raised the bow and arrow. She concentrated, telling herself it was all in fun and she should relax, but that didn’t work. One of her poorer shots left the bow, and the Palmers ended up winning by that one point.
“I hate losing,” Jennings said quietly, more to himself than anyone else, but Marianne heard it nevertheless. She didn’t know if she should apologize or just let the matter drop.
After the bows and arrows had been laid down, the girls were finally given permission by Mrs Walker to join the adults. Marianne suddenly had a little girl in her arms, but she still managed to take a peek at Mr Jennings’ face. She found it as unreadable as ever and still didn’t know if she should apologize for her archery performance or not.
As it was, when the Palmers and Jenning
ses left for Tipton a short time later, Marianne still did not have her answer.
About a week after spending the day with the Walkers, Jennings took a long ride on horseback. He was gone until almost noon, and when he arrived back, he and Palmer disappeared into Palmer’s study, where they stayed for a few hours. Not until after two o’clock did they send for Lydia, who joined them as soon as she was able.
“Come in, dear,” Palmer spoke when she poked her head in the door of his study. He didn’t speak again until he’d seen his wife to a comfortable chair.
“Do you want me to fill her in, Jennings, or will you?”
“Go ahead, please.”
Palmer looked back to his wife.
“Jennings wants all of the children to stay together this summer and possibly even into the fall when they go to school, so he’s looking for a house in this area.”
“Oh, how wonderful, Jennings. What have you found?”
“I looked at Thornton Hall this morning, and I think it suits us.”
“Thornton Hall? Is that up for let?”
“Only just. When I was in town on Saturday I inquired about it and made an appointment for this morning. It’s close enough that the children could ride over here with ease, but far enough away from town to give us our own space.”
“It’s been years since I’ve been in Thornton Hall, but I recall that it’s lovely.”
“It’s very nice, and many of the furnishings are to be left. I would not have to go on a huge shopping venture.”
“Will you keep your house in London?” Lydia asked, hoping he would because it had been in the family for several generations.
“Yes, I want the children to be comfortable in that city as well.”
Lydia stared at her brother, her face a picture of the confusion she could not hide.
“What is it, Lydia?” her husband asked.
“I don’t know if I should say it,” she replied, her voice quiet.
“I think you should, Lydia,” her brother commanded. “We’re going to be neighbors. I need to know what’s on your mind.”
“I will tell you, Jennings, but I would ask that you not be angry.”
“I’ll do my best,” he told her.
Lydia stared at him a moment and then blurted, “The changes in you are so drastic! You seem to be putting your whole life aside to make room for these children. They probably don’t have any idea how blessed they actually are, but what if you find you don’t wish to be a father? You’ve lived as a bachelor for more than thirty years, and now in such a short time your whole life has changed. What if this isn’t really what you want?”
Jennings smiled a little.
“Is this your way of asking why I don’t seem as selfish as I used to?”
“In a way, I guess it is,” Lydia answered gratefully, glad that he understood and didn’t seem upset. “You were never hateful or cruel, but neither am I used to seeing you put others first.”
Jennings looked around the room, his gaze intense. After nearly a minute of silence, he turned back to the Palmers with an answer.
“I’ve never met a woman I felt was my equal, and while I never wanted to marry just to father children, I still wanted children. I’ve yearned for them at times,” he said seriously. “With those facts in mind, you can well imagine my thinking that the fates had smiled upon me when I found myself a guardian to three children without having to bother with a wife.”
Palmer couldn’t stop his smile. Seeing it, Jennings smiled as well, although his was a bit on the sheepish side.
“As to your question, Liddy, about my deciding it’s not really what I want, I guess I don’t see that as an option. These children are my responsibility. The issue with Mrs Smith might have gone on indefinitely, but I saw my mistake early. As you pointed out, I’ve had years of living for myself; I think I can take a little time to see that these children are well.”
Lydia found herself remarkably relieved that he had thought this through.
“Thank you for telling me, Jennings. And whether or not you want to hear it, I’ll tell you that I’m praying for you.”
“We both are,” Palmer put in, “but I must also add one more thing. God’s very best plan involves both a husband and a wife so that children have two parents—a mother and a father. You can raise these children on your own—clearly Godwin was doing that—but at some point you might need to stop seeing a wife as a bother and understand what a help she could be, not just to the children, but to you as well.”
Jennings had no reply to this. It was one more aspect of family life that he had never considered. He knew how valuable Lydia was to Palmer—putting God in the mix had never occurred to him. In truth, Jennings was a little tired of thinking and talking about God, but some of Palmer’s points could not be ignored.
“Will you speak with the children about this plan, Jennings?” Lydia asked next.
“Yes, with Thomas first and then James and Penny.”
“Our children are not going to be very pleased.”
“When they see what an easy ride or walk it is, they’ll understand.”
“How did you hear of Thornton Hall?”
“Just a bit of luck,” Jennings told them confidently. “I happened to be speaking to a man in London whose brother-in-law was in charge of the details. The family’s only just moved on.”
Neither Palmer nor Lydia commented; they didn’t even allow themselves to smile. Lydia excused herself with just a few words—it was time to check on the children—but she could have told her brother in very plain English that luck had nothing whatsoever to do with it.
Blackburn Manor
“Your sister wants you to come for a visit,” Mrs Walker told Marianne, her eyes still on the letter in her hand.
“Elinore or Caroline?”
“Elinore.”
“Does she say when?”
Still in their dressing gowns, the two women sat at the breakfast table, making an easy start to the day over tea and toast.
“This week if you can make it,” the mother said as she studied the letter a little more and then looked at her daughter. “Just for a few days. The children miss you.”
“I miss them too. Will it work for you if I leave in the morning?”
“I’m sure it will. The Markhams are coming to dinner at the end of the week, but they’ll understand.”
“Not to mention, if I’m not here I won’t have to listen to how much her nephew wants to marry me.”
“Does she still do that?”
“When she gets the chance.”
Mrs Walker shook her head, but something had been on her mind for a week, and she thought this might be the opportunity to mention it.
“Did I misunderstand something, or were you rather flustered in Mr Jennings’ presence a week ago Sunday?”
Marianne rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what came over me, Mother. I felt like a schoolgirl.”
“Is it because of the children, do you think?”
“What do you mean?”
“Only that they’re so taken with you, but they’re rather reserved with him.”
Marianne bit her lip. “I hadn’t thought of it, but you might be right. Do you suppose he knows he resents me, or hasn’t he figured it out yet?”
“You misunderstand me, Mari. I don’t think Mr Jennings resents you at all. I thought maybe you were feeling awkward because of the children’s affection.”
“Oh!” was the only word that escaped Marianne’s lips on that point, even as she realized she didn’t want to think about this. She had not the slightest idea why she was so flustered in Mr Jennings’ company, and she also had no way of knowing what he was thinking. With so little information, any thought she put into the matter would be a waste of time.
“I know only this,” Marianne now said. “I’m going to go off to Elinore’s in the morning, and I’m not going to worry about it.”
“And leave me here to worry on my own?” Mrs Walker teased her. “Y
ou thoughtless child.”
On a laugh, Marianne rose to kiss her mother. Even if she was only leaving for a few days, she had plenty to do.
Tipton
“You wanted to see me, sir?” Thomas asked as he gained Palmer’s study and found Jennings on his own.
“Yes, Thomas, please come in.”
When the two of them were comfortable on the red leather davenport, Jennings shifted so he could see the boy’s face.
“I’ve found a home for us to let, Thomas. It’s very near here.”
“So you wish for us to stay near Collingbourne and not return to London?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t want to take you from your cousins this summer, and there’s time yet for plans to be made about schooling.”
Thomas nodded, his face giving nothing away.
“Do you think that would work for you, James, and Penny?”
“Yes, sir. It’s very kind of you to ask my opinion. I would…” he began, but stopped.
“Yes?”
Thomas looked hesitant but tried again. “I would like to ask one question if I may.”
“Anything you wish.”
“May James and Penny and I still attend the church where Pastor Hurst preaches?”
“Certainly you may, Thomas. I’ll see to it myself, but I would like to ask you a few questions that have been on my mind.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you attend church to please your father?”
“My heavenly Father or Godwin Jennings?”
“Godwin.”
“That is not why I go, sir, although I know he would be pleased.”
“Why do you go?”
“The life of one who chooses to follow Christ is very challenging, sir. I can rest knowing that God is in control at all times, but I can’t stop changing and growing. And to change and grow, I have to keep learning. I find Pastor Hurst to be a fine teacher.”
“When did you first begin to believe this way, Thomas?”
“I was a child, a little older than Penny. My father used to say that for many years he was rather lukewarm about his faith, but then my mother died and he was forced to depend on God as he never had before. He worked hard to teach James, Penny, and me to do the same.”