“You look tired, Reverend,” Helen said, not quite meeting his eyes. “What you really need is to drink the waters of Bath. My mother finds them quite restorative. Does she not?”
“She does not,” Becca said, not quite following her sister’s twisted turn of phrase. But after Helen kicked her foot, she added, “I mean she does. So restorative.”
“Yes,” Helen agreed, kicking her sister once more for good measure.
Mary needed to intervene before it escalated to fisticuffs. “Yes, Reverend Turpin, I am certain that you would enjoy a holiday. In my three years as governess, I have not ever seen you miss a weekly sermon.”
The older man coughed into his handkerchief. “A clergyman should not be derelict in his duties.”
“It would not be ramshackle if you were to pass on your living to another,” Helen said with another false smile. “I hear a great many clergymen of a certain age retire to Bath and there are many widows there. Perhaps you would find a wife, a companion, to live out your years in peace and comfort.”
He held up a shaking hand, but he was not fast enough for her charges.
“Yes! Retirement is precisely what you need. I shall tell Papa at once that you are ready to retire,” Becca said.
“Not so fast, young lady,” Reverend Turpin said. “I have no intention of—”
But her charge wasfastgetting to her feet and handing the older man the bottle. “And this is for your cough. We hope you feel better soon.”
“Very soon,” Helen reiterated. “So that you may leave for Bath immediately.”
The reverend appeared bewildered. “I do not want to go to Bath.”
“And how do you know that if you have never been, Reverend Turpin?” Becca said with a bright smile.
“I am sure you will enjoy it there,” Helen said. “Andwewill enjoy you being there. Good day.”
The girls left without another word.
Mary bade the duke’s chaplain goodbye and met her charges in the courtyard. A wind whipped past the stones and into her very bones. “Why do you wish for Reverend Turpin to go to Bath?”
Becca opened her mouth but Helen pinched her arm. “Best if you do not know, Miss Perkins. Then you are not culpable.”
Demanding their confidences never worked, so Mary tried instead a different tact. “Would your mother approve of your actions?”
“Of course,” Becca said.
Opening one of the main doors of the castle, Mary could only groan.
What mad scheme were they concocting now? And how could she stop them?
Chapter 2
Trevor stared at the letter from Hampford Castle. Mary’s handwriting looked different, but the duke’s seal was the same. It had to be from her, and he was too terrified to read it. Placing it on the hearth, he continued to go through his notes for his Sunday sermon. Reverend Stone would expect him to send his complete speech for him to recite as well. He was not one to question God or the authority of men on earth, but it did seem rather dishonest for Reverend Stone to be paid to be the vicar for White Waltham and Little Greenwick and for Trevor, the curate, to only receive a small stipend. Trevor did all the work for both parishes. He’d considered it good training for when he would take over for Reverend Stone, but now that would be his cousin Alfred’s.
Flipping through the pages of the New Testament, Trevor had difficulty focusing on the words. What was in Mary’s letter? Had she broken off their engagement? Would the penned words on the page take away the last of his hopes and dreams?
He remembered the first time that he saw her. They had both attended the Bishop of Reading’s Christmas party four years previous. Trevor had not seen her at first. Sitting next to the pianist, Mary had turned the pages. He was initially drawn to her pretty shade of hair. It was not quite brown or blonde, but some lovely color in between. Next, he’d noticed her beautiful eyes, enhanced by a pair of delicate spectacles that perched on her perfect little nose. Her lips were a lovely shade of pink and her teeth were straight and white when she smiled.
Mary smiled when he had asked her to dance with him. His heart beat in his throat and he’d barely been able to get out thewords.And when she set her hand in his, Trevor knew that she was special. He’d never before felt that way, and as a clergyman, he’d shaken his fair share of hands. Not even the giggly young ladies of his parish that made cow eyes at him had been able to make his pulse race like this. Sadly, his brain was also affected, and he found himself unable to make little more than inane conversation. She responded with quiet composure and quick intelligence. Trevor danced with two other pretty young ladies that did not excite him one whit before he asked Mary to dance again. Together, they spun through a lively jig and his feet had never felt lighter.
Trevor returned to his rented room in Little Greenwick the next day, but his mind was full of Mary. He wanted, no, needed, to see her again. He wished to court her.
Working up all his courage, Trevor paid a call on his uncle, Squire Wallace. The man who had become his guardian after his father died when he was only thirteen years old. The squire had never shown Trevor any affection, nor had he attempted to make him apart of his own family. Uncle had three sons, all younger than Trevor. He would have loved to know his cousins. To grow up in a family. His own mother had died giving birth to him, and his father had not been warm or loving either. Papa blamed Trevor and his latewife for ruining his life. For making him poor.
“Love leads to poverty,” Papa had said with scorn.
Trevor was the first and only son, but he realized when he was hungry, which was often, that his father’s portion as the second son was not sufficient to support a family. His father had no trade and little education. Had he never married and had a child, Papa could have lived the life of a gentleman and not have descended into poverty. What was left of his father’s meager fortune was spent on Trevor’s education at school. He’d been lucky enough to earn a scholarship at Oxford. After his ordination to the priesthood, he’d worked as a curate to Reverend Stone, who had two livings. The squire promised that both livings would eventually be Trevor’s. Once he was ready.