Charming the Vicar's Daughter (7 page)

His smile lit the room and woke butterflies inside her. His eyes, the blue of a winter storm, caught her gaze. “I shall come tomorrow.” His gait as he left was much surer than when he entered.

Rebecca continued to stare at the empty doorway long after she heard the closing of the door and the sound of heels on the steppingstones outside. Mr. Harrow had come back for her. And he seemed willing to face her father. That made him very unlike the man whose name she could no longer speak in this house.

When her senses came to her, she went to her father’s study where he was engrossed in a book. He looked up as she entered. “You had visitors?”

“Yes, Lady Hannah came to say goodbye. Her cousin, Mr. Harrow was with her.”

His right eyebrow quivered as if it was going to lift, but he hated any expression that bordered on arrogance and it soon stilled. “I understood he was away.”

“He has returned to visit his family.” Her heart beat faster and she drew in a breath to calm herself. The milk in the tea she’d drunk was beginning to curdle in her stomach. “He asked if he could call tomorrow.”

Father was quiet for so long she gave up hope. Just when she was ready to rise and leave the room, he nodded. “And what did you say?”

“I told him I would tell you we’re expecting him.”

He swallowed, then wiped his hand across his mouth, his fingers making a rasping sound against his whiskers. He seemed contemplative, but his face showed no discernable expression of what he was thinking.

Rebecca’s stomach knotted and twisted. These past few weeks she had put Mr. Harrow from her thoughts, and her life had been fine without him. If he’d returned only to be sent away by her father, she didn’t think she could bear it. Her heart would shatter.

“Is this what you desire?”

Her eyes jerked to meet his. “Yes, Father. I believe he is a good man. He’s not like Mr. Rory Calhoon. It would mean a lot to me if you allowed me to know him better.”

Father’s brows drew together at the mention of that name. He nodded once, sharply. “Then I shall welcome his visits.”

She clenched her hands in her lap, aching clear down to her toes that her mother couldn’t be here to share this joy. Mama would give her the hug she needed so desperately. Father was not a demonstrative man, however. He had already returned to his book. Rebecca rose. “Thank you, sir.”

Maintaining a graceful step while wanting to jump for joy, Rebecca left the room.

Chapter Nine

The next day, as he waited in the drawing room of the vicar’s cottage for Miss Cookson to appear, the constant chatter from Neil’s cousins had him on edge. Trey and Sam were good sports to join Neil, Lady Patience and Lady Madeleine in their morning call at the vicar’s cottage. The two young men stood behind the settee where the girls perched, deep in their giggles. The discomfort on the men’s faces matched what Neil felt as sweat trickled down his spine.
 

A part of him longed to run out the door and all the way back to London. How had he veered so far from his bachelor rooms in the Albany and a racy curricle? There was no sense or reason to any of his actions. He’d been safe in Town, his heart and his time his own.

Neil chuckled softly to himself. This madness had eaten at him, stealing his sleep. There was no cure for it other than to revisit his acquaintance with her and see if his fascination was something more.

Miss Cookson entered the room in a lavender-scented flurry. “Forgive me for keeping you all waiting. Shall I call for some tea?”

Bowing in greeting, Neil said, “It is a lovely day. We thought you might enjoy a walk with us. The girls wish to shop for new ribbons.”

“I shall gather my Spencer and reticule, then.”

In no time they were strolling down the lane in pairs, the girls in front and the young men behind Neil and Miss Cookson. He was grateful his cousins lagged enough to allow him to pretend some semblance of privacy.

Miss Cookson held her reticule with both hands in front of her as she walked. “Was London not what you expected? I’m surprised that you left so soon.”

He tugged at the hem of his waistcoat, which suddenly seemed ill fitting. “Mayhap I didn’t stay long enough for its charm to become apparent. I…found myself longing for tree-lined lanes and open spaces.”

“I understood there to be several parks you could have ridden to.”

Was she pushing for the real reason for his return? Surely she must guess it. He wasn’t ready to declare himself. Wasn’t certain how to proceed. For that matter, he wasn’t even certain he was courting her, or if they were still treading some earlier stage of getting to know each other. He had so many questions he had no right to ask. He waited for her to glance his way and offered her a wink. “I wouldn’t have found what I was looking for in those parks.”

Her cheeks blossomed in a deep pink and she lowered her eyes. “I am happy you are here.”

Her words emboldened him. “Did your father have any concerns?”

“He will always worry about me, but he said he would allow you to call.”

What would his own parents say to a match such as this? Neil could imagine it. Mother’s darling boy and the vicar’s daughter. Hopefully, with the support of Lord and Lady Bridgethorpe, his parents would be pleased. They couldn’t find a more polite, considerate young lady. She had no bad qualities they could object to.

Lady Patience turned on her heel and walked backwards, facing them. “Please, may we go to Palmer’s and look at ribbon now?”

“Yes, please?” echoed her twin.

“I think that’s a lovely idea,” Miss Cookson said.

Palmer’s was located just off the town square. While the ladies busied themselves with their study of the notions on display, Trey and Sam waited outside. Neil wandered and browsed the shelves, but was more interested in watching Miss Cookson. Her selections were very practical, very deliberate, while the twins wanted to examine every lace and ribbon.

A weathered voice pulled him from his reverie. “Mr. Harrow, what a pleasant surprise to find you shopping in our little village.” Mrs. Benjamin clutched the points of her heavy wool shawl with one hand while holding her shopping basket with the other.

He clenched his jaw, but smiled at the white-haired widow. “Good day. I have joined my cousins in an outing.”

“How lovely. I see Miss Cookson has also come shopping.”

“Yes, we called on her on our way into the village.”

“It is good of you to do so. She is such a delightful young lady.” The woman leaned close. “She doesn’t deserve what is said about her, you know. It is not what it seemed.”

Neil had yet to hear any unkind words actually spoken against her, and wondered what the incident was that had caused an entire village to avoid her. There were few things he could think of that would keep all the younger men from even speaking to her. One would think if she’d been compromised, her father would have removed them to another parish where the scandal had been unknown.

The time had come to ask her directly. If she was innocent of what the wagging tongues said behind her back, he needed to be able to speak up for her. As they walked back toward the vicarage and the twins were delightedly discussing their purchases, he broached the subject. “I am quite pleased Reverend Cookson agreed to my calling on you.”

“As am I,” Miss Cookson replied, her voice quite soft and melodic.

“Is there…some…reason for him to fear the attention directed toward you?”

Miss Cookson quickly ducked her head. “There is. I was married once, you see.”

Neil’s stomach dropped. He couldn’t have heard her correctly. Was she divorced? His parents would never agree to his marrying a divorced woman. His blood turned to ice as he waited for her to say more.

When Mr. Harrow stumbled at Rebecca’s announcement, she feared this would be the last time he called on her. Their budding friendship would wither on the vine. She’d thought he was made of sterner stuff and would be able to overlook her past, but perhaps he was no better than the local men. None of them wanted a secondhand wife.

 
He recovered his steady step quickly, but was silent for half a block. “I do not understand. You are ‘Miss’ Cookson still.”

Her heart was too heavy to hope this meant he was able to forgive her foolishness seven years ago. Unable—or not desiring—to read his expression, she kept her gaze on the pasture to their right. “I was seventeen. The boy was twenty, the blacksmith’s nephew. He was Irish, and Catholic.”

Since Mr. Harrow had met her father, he would understand how much stronger her father’s objections had been compared to most. Father upheld the king’s proclamation there was only one church, one religion. She could only consider marrying within her faith.

“We were married before his priest in a village in the north. There is a house I will not name where Catholic marriages are held in secret. Rory lied about my age, and he told me we would be married again by my father to make it legal. Father couldn’t object once we’d been joined by the priest, Rory reasoned.” Looking back with the eyes of a woman rather than the girl she had been, Rebecca was grateful the morning had played out as it had. Rory had likely cared little about whether the marriage was legal or not. “Rory’s parents discovered us leaving the church. Apparently his sister had tattled on us.”

“They didn’t try to stop the proceedings when the banns were being read?” Mr. Harrow sounded astounded the wedding had even taken place.

“I don’t know that banns are read in the masses being held in secret. I never attended one. Rory likely felt he could use that to his advantage.” Rory had known all along neither of their parents would have permitted them to marry. She’d been so foolish to believe that the biggest of their problems would have been agreeing which church to attend. She’d met him just six months after her mother’s passing, at a time when she needed joy in her life, and Rory’s flirtations made her feel loved.

Now, she supposed herself lucky he’d sought the wedding before seducing her. Foolishness might be overlooked by her friends and neighbors, where a seduction would not be. Of course, since Father insisted on keeping the entire matter a secret, the seduction was presumed and her reputation suffered because of it.

“Could your father have performed the wedding afterward to make it legal?”

“I imagine so. However, when Rory’s parents brought me home to Father and told him what we’d done, they didn’t even request that the situation be made legal. They left me there like a disobedient child. I imagine his parents were as relieved as Father was at how easily they would be able to hide this error in judgment on both our parts. Rory was sent to live with relatives in Ireland. Father didn’t allow me to leave the house for six full months, even for church.”

“Your absence during those months must have been noted by your neighbors.”

“It was. The speculations were much worse than the actual deed. There were rumors I was with child and had been sent off to hide its birth. Father finally admitted to a few friends what I had done, but the damage was irreparable.”

Mr. Harrow cleared his throat. “From what I have gathered, the young men believe you were, well, compromised, not married.”

“I cannot say what was in their heads, but their hearts don’t consider me as a potential wife. Perhaps they know nothing of my five-minute marriage. Perhaps their concern is merely who their father-in-law would be. It doesn’t matter, the result is the same.”

Neil chuckled. “I can see where they might fear your father. He is a formidable obstacle in the path of getting to know you. I wish to know you better…much better.”

Rebecca’s heart suddenly soared. It seemed too good to be true that she’d finally found a man willing to look past her foolish mistake.

Chapter Ten

Mr. Harrow came by daily for the next two weeks, accompanied by any number of his cousins. They stayed only as long as was polite for morning calls, although a few times they walked with Rebecca on her way to visit her neighbors. Father made no comment about the frequency of the visits. More surprisingly the widows had nothing to say to Rebecca but good day when she saw them in passing.

It took several such visits for Rebecca to actually feel comfortable speaking to Mr. Harrow. He made it easy when he brought a book for her to read.

“Mr. Wordsworth wrote a book about the Lake District, where my mother’s home was before she married.” He held out the small book. “I have considered finding a cottage there. Perhaps near Grasmere, which Wordsworth claims is ‘the loveliest spot that man hath ever found.’”

“I shall enjoy reading this, thank you.” The mention of his plans for a cottage could be a hint that his visits would lead to something more. Dare she hope?

She’d found herself gazing upon him for longer periods, and each time she noticed something new. He tended to clench his strong jaw when he seemed uncomfortable, which made his side-whiskers wiggle about noticeably. His eyes appeared to darken when his voice lowered and he leaned close to say something for her ears alone. The intimacy of those looks sent gooseflesh coursing over her skin.

Rebecca wondered how long she could look forward to his visits. “Do you plan to return to London soon?”