Chapter2
The blacksmith was true tohis word and had expedited the repair of the carriage wheel. Money was the great equalizer, and Peter was back on the road the next day and would arrive at St. Mary’s on time. He sighed in relief. The last thing he wanted was to start off his tenure as vicar by showing up late. That wouldn’t set a very good example for the parishioners when it came to being punctual and honoring one’s commitments.
It took half a day to reach the vicarage. When John finally halted the horses, Peter was pleasantly surprised to find the curate waiting to greet him in front of a lovely stone cottage.
Peter opened the door, jumped down from the carriage, and walked to the young man.
“Mr. Wallings, welcome to St. Mary’s. I’m Edward Randolph, the curate for St. Mary’s parish.”
“Good day, Mr. Randolph. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Peter said with an outstretched hand. The curate was young, perhaps three and twenty, and had a serious air about his slender frame.
The curate looked a little surprised by the gesture but took his hand in a firm handshake. “Everything is prepared for you, sir. Please come this way.”
Peter wondered if the last vicar had been less than friendly with the curate. That wasn’t his style. He was pleasant and welcoming with everyone and vowed to continue his friendly ways as he followed the young man into the house.
The cottage was bigger than he’d expected, much more spacious than his small boarding house room in the London parish. Edward gave him a brief tour of the parlor, study, and kitchen on the first floor and the three bedchambers on the second. “Mrs. Paulson comes daily to cook, and there’s Sally, a maid of all work, who comes in to clean and do laundry twice a week. There’s also stables behind the garden, but when the last vicar died, the horse and carriage were removed. I’m sorry to say there isn’t even a cart left for your use.”
“Were the carriage and horses owned by the parish or the vicar himself?”
“As I never saw the ledgers of expenses, I can only conclude they were the vicar’s personal possessions, and when he passed, they were returned to his family.”
“I see. And where do you reside, Mr. Randolph?” Peter asked, noticing a valise by the door.
“I shall be living with my sister. She’s suffered some hard times recently with the death of her husband.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that. You’re more than welcome to stay here if, at any point, that would be helpful to you. I assume you’ve been living at the vicarage as you waited for my arrival.”
Edward nodded. “Yes. I’ve been here since the last vicar passed away, but now I think my place is with my sister. With three little ones to take care of, she could use a bit of help. I assume you do not object to that arrangement? Rest assured, I will, of course, attend to all my duties. The Sunday sermon is already written and on your desk.”
“Thank you. I shall look it over. Mr. Randolph, I commend you for taking care of your sister. It’s very important to help where we can, especially when it involves family. I shall visit her soon to offer whatever support I can. We can discuss more about your duties soon. Go and be with your sister for now. I shall be fine for the next few days.”
“That is very kind of you. I shall let you settle in,” Mr. Randolph said, handing Peter a set of keys. “These are for the vicarage and the church.”
“Thank you. My best to your sister. Good day, Mr. Randolph.”
After the curate left, John brought in his trunk. “Where do you want this, Mr. Wallings?”
“In the large bedroom upstairs at the back of the house. Thank you, John.”
Peter felt a little melancholy, knowing this was probably the last time he’d see the family driver for a long time. John had been serving them since Peter was a child. He followed the man upstairs and into the bedchamber. “You can put it at the end of the bed.”
John nodded and put the chest down. “Will there be anything else, Mr. Wallings?”
“Would you care to stay and rest for the night?”
The driver shook his head. “That’s very kind of you, sir, but no. I’d best get back on the road. I’ll stop at that inn again to rest the horses. I’m expected back in London in three days’ time.”
“Of course. Let me help you get those horses watered before you go,” Peter said, walking down the stairs with the driver following. He went out the front door and around the side of the cottage. “Here it is,” he said when he spotted the well.
“Much appreciated, Mr. Wallings. I’ll take care of the horses and be on my way.”
“Thank you again for your excellent service. Safe travels, John,” Peter said, extending his hand.
“Good-bye, Mr. Wallings. It’s been a pleasure serving you,” John said, giving Peter’s outstretched hand a firm shake.
After John left, Peter went around the back of the cottage to see the garden. His unpacking could wait a little longer. He went around to the back of the cottage and was pleasantly surprised to see that the curate had been an excellent caretakerof the vicarage. Besides a flourishing vegetable garden in one corner, there were numerous bushes and flowers, and a bench for contemplation at the far end of the garden before the path to the stables. He looked forward to continuing Mr. Randolph’s excellent work and, if necessary, adding more vegetables. There was no sense in letting any of the villagers go hungry when there was ample space to add more plants. He would consult with the curate to see what folks needed.
He had no idea how long it had been since the last vicar was in residence, but neither the flowering garden nor the vegetable plants had been neglected. He would make a point of telling Mr. Randolph what a wonderful job he’d done.