Spoiled (11 page)

‘How commendable,' Evangeline replied, wandering about the room and looking around. ‘Are you intending to teach in the school, Mr Buckleigh?'

‘I am to teach the older ones their catechism,' answered the curate, who had greeted her advent with a bow, and was now allowing Miss Leicester to help him on with his coat. ‘In what way may I serve you, Miss Granby?'

‘In no way in particular,' responded Evangeline. ‘Did you suppose that I had come to find you? By no means! I was simply wondering how well you had settled in, that was all.'

‘Then you may see, if you wish to walk back with me to the cottage,' he said. ‘I take it, though, that you are on horseback.'

‘I am, but my groom may come from Illingham Hall to collect me if I leave word.'

Michael turned back to Miss Leicester. ‘Then I will say goodbye, but see you very soon, no doubt.'

‘No doubt,' she answered, smiling. ‘And thank you for your help.' As he turned away, she said, ‘Oh, one moment, Mich—I mean, Mr Buckleigh. There is some dust on your coat.' She stood on tiptoe and brushed something, which Evangeline was almost certain was completely non-existent, off his shoulders. ‘There, that is better.'

‘Thank you,' he answered, before bowing to her. ‘Good day, Miss Leicester.'

‘Well, this is an interesting development,' said Evangeline, after they had started to walk away from the school. A boy who had been hanging about in the street had been sent to the Hall with a message for Evangeline's groom. ‘I had no idea that you were already acquainted with Miss Leicester before you came here.' Instead of walking straight up the main street, they left the village by a footpath which would bring them out very close to the curate's cottage and which cut a corner off their journey.

‘I was not acquainted with Miss Leicester before,' Michael replied, rather tersely. He was a little annoyed with the teacher for treating him in such a proprietary way and letting slip his Christian name; with Evangeline for appearing at such a moment and making such assumptions; most of all with himself for agreeing to be on Christian name terms with Miss Leicester, and for allowing himself to be alone with her when he knew that it was not wise.

‘Oh,' replied Evangeline innocently. ‘I quite thought that you were.'

‘And what gave you that impression?' he asked, his tone even.

‘Well, when a lady betrays that she is on first name terms with a gentleman, then brushes fluff off his coat, it argues a close degree of acquaintance,' Evangeline replied airily.

‘There is no close degree of acquaintance,' Michael insisted. ‘She is a pleasant lady who works in the community, as do I. It is only sensible to be on good terms with her.'

‘I see,' Evangeline replied. They fell silent for a while. She glanced up at him as he walked beside her, his strides athletic, long and easy. He really was extremely good to look at.

For his part, Michael was having very similar thoughts. He had just been working closely with Juliana Leicester, having her help him off and on with his coat, climbing a ladder while she held it, and making one or two other minor repairs to the schoolroom whilst she stood alongside him. Not once had he felt the slightest twinge of interest in her as a
woman. It seemed that he only had to walk next to Evangeline Granby, not touching her but being aware of her presence, her perfume, for him to want to drag her into the nearest field and finish what they had started in that little inn in Sheffield.

Pull yourself together, Buckleigh, he said sternly to himself. You are a clergyman and this lady is a parishioner. He quickened his pace, intending to cut this time of temptation as short as possible. They walked on for a few minutes, until Miss Granby halted. ‘Mr Buckleigh, this is too much,' she said. ‘You forget how tall you are!'

She laid her left hand on his arm. He turned to look at her. Her voice sounded as if she was out of breath; her bosom was heaving a little, her right hand pressed to it. His body reacted before his mind sounded the alarm. Their eyes met and held. He caught hold of her right hand and pulled her round to face him, looking down at her, his own breathing a little faster, but not because he was out of breath.

He was saved from making a complete fool of himself by the sound of footsteps in the lane. He dropped Evangeline's hand as if it were red hot, and took a step backwards. Moments later, Miss Barclay and Miss French appeared from round the bend and, once they had seen the couple coming the other way, began to giggle behind their hands. They barely stopped to exchange greetings, before continuing on their way after casting a knowing look in Evangeline's direction.

‘I beg your pardon, Miss Granby,' said Michael, when they were alone again. He was a little flushed, though whether because the day was warm or from mortification it would have been difficult to say. ‘I will measure my pace a little better to yours.'

‘I am obliged to you,' replied Evangeline. She, too was flushed, but, of course, that may have been because she had been obliged to walk too fast.

They said nothing more until they reached the curate's cottage. Evangeline's groom was already outside and he touched his forelock to them. Michael smiled, and immediately approached the horses the groom was holding, his manner of petting and speaking to them clearly showing that he was very much at ease with the animals.

‘She's a beauty,' he said, as he patted Snowball. ‘Is she yours, Miss Granby?'

Evangeline smiled. ‘She is, and I love her dearly. Do you ride, Mr Buckleigh?'

‘I do,' he answered ruefully, ‘I have no horse of my own at present. I shall purchase another when I am able, but my priority must be to
provide for my sister at this time. Would you like to come inside and inspect my domain, Miss Granby? We can leave the door open so that your groom may remain within sight.'

She looked up at him, wondering whether this would be wise. She knew perfectly well what had just happened on the path. He had almost kissed her and she would probably have let him. That would have been disastrous. It was one thing to flirt with the curate upon her own terms: it would be quite another to permit such intimate attentions from him, no matter how much faster he caused her heart to beat. Then she recalled that she had more to say to him with regard to Miss Leicester, so she walked past him gracefully as he held the door open for her.

She eyed the interior of the cottage with approval. The furnishings bore the stamp of Lady Ilam's handiwork, but there were a few things already set out which gave an indication of Michael's character. He was clearly a tidy person, for his books were arranged carefully on the bookcase, and the few other belongings that were visible were neatly in their places. There was a fine pottery bowl on the table in the window.

‘Do you hope to have your sister to stay very soon?' she asked him.

‘Thanks to the kindness of Lord and Lady Ilam, I see no reason why she should not come almost immediately.'

‘That might be as well,' said Evangeline. ‘If I had the mistaken notion that you and Miss Leicester were already acquainted, then others might think the same.'

Michael took a deep breath. ‘Miss Granby, I really do not think—'

She interrupted him. ‘That it is any of my business?' she completed. ‘You may not think so, sir. Perhaps you have not lived in a village before. I can assure you that everyone's business is everybody else's. You have been in the schoolroom mending the fabric of the place, when Miss Leicester could easily send for Ilam's carpenter. She irons your vestments; you go to Crossley farm to dine with her and you permit her to call you by your Christian name. If I have noted these things, then you can be sure that others have, too. In no time at all, your neighbours will have the banns called.'

He stared at her, appalled, but determined not to be browbeaten. ‘You are mistaken, Miss Granby,' he said. ‘I have lived in a village before and so has Miss Leicester.'

‘In that case, it might be as well for you to ask yourself why she should be so ready to expose herself to such gossip.'

A grin began to spread across his features. ‘Miss Granby, it strikes me that you might just be jealous.'

She drew her shoulders back. ‘Jealous? I?' she asked with a scornful smile. ‘And why do you suppose I should be jealous of the attentions that a lowly curate chooses to bestow upon a village schoolteacher? I simply seek to preserve you from gossip; that is all. Do not forget what I said to you before about informing the bishop about any improper behaviour on your part. We have been long enough without a clergyman here; it would be very unfortunate if you should be obliged to leave because of scandal.' She watched the flush of mortification flow into his cheeks and turned away, feeling strangely guilty.

He bowed with something less than his usual grace. ‘I am obliged to you, Miss Granby for putting me in my place,' he said.

She nodded abruptly. ‘Good day, Mr Buckleigh,' she said. For the second time, he put his hand out and caught hold of her arm. In response, she looked down at his hand and said again, with added emphasis, ‘Good day, Mr Buckleigh.'

He released her then, and followed her to the door. She was about to mount Snowball with her groom's assistance, when the jingle of harness and the clatter of hoofs proclaimed the arrival of a newcomer. It was with a feeling of resignation that Michael observed Miss Belton handling the reins of a gig, pulled by one horse. She was accompanied by her maid sitting next to her and a groom riding behind.

‘Here is another member of your court,' said Evangeline, smiling sweetly as her groom threw her into the saddle. ‘Why don't you take her to meet Miss Leicester? There is safety in numbers, after all.' She turned to greet Amelia, who responded in kind.

‘Good day, Miss Granby,' Michael said, before turning to his new guest.

‘Oh, good day Mr Buckleigh,' said Amelia, her face wreathed in smiles as she allowed Michael to help her down from the gig. ‘I have come to see how you are settling in.'

‘That's very kind of you,' said Michael with a smile, as he handed the maid down. The presence of the maid was a relief to him. His conversation with Evangeline Granby had shaken him more than he liked to admit. It had simply not occurred to him that his friendship with Juliana Leicester might be subject to misinterpretation by the rest of the village.

They entered the cottage, whereupon Miss Belton turned to the maid, taking out her reticule. ‘Go to the shop and procure for me some white thread,' she said, handing the girl a coin. When the maid had gone, she turned to Michael with a bright smile. ‘Now,' she said, ‘you can show me everything.'

There was a tiny pause. ‘You have seen it, Miss Belton,' Michael replied frankly. ‘There is just this one room downstairs, apart from the kitchen.'

Amelia looked about her. ‘How delightfully cosy,' she declared. ‘And upstairs, I suppose, are the bedrooms.'

Suppressing the urge to ask what else she might think would be up there, Michael simply said, baldly, ‘Yes.'

‘How much I would like to see the room where your sister will be sleeping,' she said, almost wistfully. ‘Would you be so good as to take me upstairs to look at it?'

 

Evangeline began the journey by urging her mount into a bracing trot. Michael's words about being jealous had hit home. How dared he accuse her of such a thing? Just because they had kissed, he thought that he had some sort of claim upon her. The trouble was that if he could not forget that kiss, neither could she. She felt a twinge of guilt when she remembered how haughtily she had spoken to him. After all, he had saved her from highwaymen. Furthermore, he had refrained from telling her parents about her bad behaviour in Sheffield. She owed him something.

There were those in the village who would be all too pleased to pass on juicy gossip about the new clergyman. From personal experience, she was well aware how destructive gossip could be. She told herself that that was why she had been displeased to find Michael in such an intimate situation with the schoolteacher. Her warning to him had been completely genuine. If he was not more careful in his attitude towards the women of the village, he would find himself in trouble. Now Amelia was at the cottage, throwing herself at him no doubt, and if anyone was going to flirt with him, then it would be she and not that tiresome Amelia Belton!

Murmuring something to her groom about forgetting a handkerchief, she turned her mount, and within a matter of minutes, she was slipping out of the saddle once more, and entering the curate's house after knocking briefly on the door. She was just in time to see Miss Belton disappearing at the top of the stairs, whilst Michael looked on from the ground floor, an expression of utter consternation upon his face.

‘Mr Buckleigh, pray come up and show me which is to be your sister's room,' Miss Belton called down brightly.

Evangeline looked up at him, raising her brows, before drawing a handkerchief from the pocket in her riding habit and allowing it to float to the floor. ‘Why do not I go up also, since I am here?' she said. ‘I, too, would very much like to see where your sister is to sleep.'

Michael gestured ruefully for Evangeline to ascend the stairs, then followed her up the flight. He was therefore able to see the expression on Miss Belton's face as they both emerged at the top. It was something akin to baffled rage. ‘Why, Evangeline,' she said, summoning up a smile with an effort. ‘I thought that you had returned home.'

‘I had set off, but found that I had forgotten my handkerchief,' Evangeline replied.

‘This way, ladies,' said Michael, showing them into the room that he had set aside for Theodora's use. It was a pleasant enough room, but did not really warrant the efforts that both ladies appeared to have made to see it.

‘This is delightful,' said Miss Belton, overdoing things a little. ‘When is she to come?'