Grinning, she shook her head. “Neither the duke nor his servants would have blamed you if you had. They would assume you had also been poisoned by my charges.”
Trevor threw back his head and laughed. Mary chuckled too, the sound floating soft and high. For all the qualities that he had admired in her, humor had never been one of them. But he was glad now to discover that she had a sharp wit and a quick tongue.
“I am glad that I said, ‘Amen’when I did,” he added, still holding her hands. “You were right about Lord Hampford appreciating short services. I do not think any of my parishioners have ever clapped after my sermons before.”
Mary raised her eyebrows. “Have they ever been a quarter of an hour?”
He shook his head, his lips still curved upward into a smile.
“Then maybe they would have.”
***
The next morning, Trevor felt as if he were floating. His feet barely seemed to touch the ground beneath him. Last night he had danced with Mary for nearly two hours. Lord Hampford had squired each of his daughters, but mostly they danced (and fought) with each other. Even though he was only a guest, he felt like family. Like he belonged, and he could not remember ever laughing so much in his life. The Stringhams had him and Mary constantly in stitches with their jokes and antics.
He only wished that he could stay in this castle for the rest of his life instead of the year. Still, Mary had been right. He would not ruin his stay by focusing on things that he could not change. He would enjoy every moment, and the laughter and love would lighten the burden of the coming year.
Mr. Harper opened the door to the breakfast room for Trevor and then offered him a letter on a silver tray. It was from Mary. He recognized her penmanship and the Duke of Hampford’s frank in the corner. The paper had his address on it and must have gone all the way to Little Greenwick before being sent back to the castle.
“Thank you, Harper,” he said, bowing his head to the butler.
The door closed behind him, and Trevor found himself alone in the room save for a large portrait of King Charles II. The former king sneered down at him. The sideboard was full of trays and delicious aromas that filled his senses. His stomach made a noise, but he could not eat a bite until he read Mary’s letter. Breaking the seal with his thumb, he unfolded the paper.
My dearest Trevor,
I will never forget the first time that you came to call. I had enjoyed our dances very much at the Bishop of Reading’s party, but I did not expect to meet the tall and handsome curate again. You brought a book for me:Letters for Literary Ladiesby Maria Edgeworth. I had never received such a thoughtful gift. You appeared to be as interested in my intellect as my person. You said that you wished to talk about the book with me. I could barely wait a week for you to call again. I loved how you listened to my thoughts and added your own. You made me feel like the most important person in the world.
I lived that first month for your visits. To see your face. To hear your laugh. To feel your hand in mine. I cannot think of a happier time in all my life. Then you brought your mother’s ring and asked me to marry you. My heart was aflame, and alas, so was your coat. I helped you divest yourself of it. You told me that the ring was the only possession you had of your mother’s and that you wanted me to have it. I knew then how much you loved me. And you told me that we would have to wait a little, but that you would be receiving two livings.
My love, I have waited and hoped for over three years. I have wanted what you promised. Not two livings to support us, but your love and children of our own. I do not wish for this letter to read like an ultimatum, but after a great deal of thought and prayer, I must leave the decision to you. Either marry me now and we will weather whatever the future brings together or release me from our engagement. I still care for you and wish you all happiness. But I cannot wait all my youth for you.
Sincerely,
Mary Perkins
Crumbling the letter in his hand, Trevor found that he had no appetite after all. He opened the door to the breakfast room, and shoving his hands into his pockets, he brushed past Mary and Helen with only a brief “Excuse me.” He needed to get some air. To breathe.
Trevor rambled through the long, cold halls, until he reached an exterior door. Lightheaded, he stepped outside without a coat, hat, or gloves. The air bit his cheeks and his nose. His mouth felt dry.
His father’s bitter words would not leave his mind:“Love leads to poverty.”
How could he subject Mary and any children that they possibly would have to a life of hunger, neglect, and fear for the future? A life such as the one that he had lived. Shaking his head, Trevor knew that he could not. But then he would have to release Mary from their engagement. The very thought of it caused a pain in his chest greater than anything he had suffered before.
Mary was his hope.
His light in the darkness.
She had been the only thing that had kept him going these last three years as he had waited for his uncle to finally fulfill his promise. But his time had been wasted. The squire never intended to help him, and without the livings, he could never wed Mary.
His chest caved in as a tear slipped down his frozen cheek. And then another.
Chapter 8
For the second morning in a row, Trevor did not eat breakfast with them. He had not eaten dinner with them the night before either. A servant had sent his regrets that he had a headache that prevented him from attending. Something more than a headache was amiss with him. Mary felt certain of it. After moving her eggs around the plate for nearly a half hour, she left the breakfast room with her charges. Harper held the door for them, and Mary was the last to exit.
She stopped in front of the butler. “Have you seen Mr. Wallace this morning, by chance?”
He shook his head, not a hair out of place. “No, Miss Perkins. But he did receive a letter yesterday that had been redirected from his lodgings in Little Greenwick back to the castle.”