A Perfect Gentleman(13)

He turned his horse toward the town. He hated that he and Jordan parted with anger between them last evening. Worse, something bothered his brother, which was more important than the anger. But, would Jordan confide in him? He never had before, but Matthew needed to try anyway.

Matthew pulled the horse to a halt. Perhaps now was not the time given the circumstances? Until the hearing was complete, he and Jordan were on opposite sides of the issues. Maybe when this was behind them, he could find out what brought Jordan here, besides the business proposition.

Matthew turned the horse and headed toward the Cooper Estate. If anyone needed support and encouragement at the moment it was Miss Cooper and her father. They had nobody. But, would she welcome his assistance? Matthew shook his head. The father might, but Miss Cooper did not seem to care for his presence all that much.

Well, maybe that wasn’t correct, she did offer dinner last evening. And, she did seem grateful for his support with regard to her father, and she had come to him when her uncle arrived. Yet, she didn’t really seem to care for him.

Matthew stopped the horse again. Why did it matter whether she like him or not? He was her vicar, nothing more and nothing less. He should just be happy she came to church and listened to the sermon, and sang loudly. A smile pulled at his lips. He could still hear her melodic voice clearly from yesterday. She had the voice of an angel. A soprano who could make a man weep. And the way her face lit with joy. It radiated from her entire being. How could anyone not be affected by her inner beauty, especially since she carried troubles with her daily? Miss Cooper was a lovely young woman.

He should not be thinking of Miss Cooper as lovely, or beautiful, or any way other than one of his parishioners. No, he could not visit her now. He could not afford to get too close to her or her father. What would people think? If he spent too much time at their home those in town might begin to wonder and the last thing he wanted were rumors started about him. Or worse, speculation with regard to him and Miss Cooper.

It was better to visit his brother. Jordan was a blood relative and mattered to him more than anyone at the moment. It was important they mend their differences before the hearing and certainly before Jordan returned to London. His brother needed his help just as much as the Cooper family at the moment.

Matthew rode the horse out of the wood to meet the road and turned the mare toward town. He would not be deterred, no matter how much he wanted to see Miss Cooper.





Grace leaned back in the leather chair behind her father’s large oak desk. She anchored her elbow onto the arm and rested her head in her left hand. Though she had been frugal since her father’s accident, the funds from the milk and eggs with her earnings for Sunday school did not begin to replace her father’s annual income as the local solicitor prior to his injury. They were not desperate yet, but in another year or so she knew they would need to let Mrs. Thomas go. But then where would they be? The woman cooked for them and Grace could barely make tea. Her father would starve.

She leaned forward and closed the ledger. Staring at the columns was not going to increase their accounts. Grace put the book in the top drawer and picked up the list she began this morning. Three names were written, Mrs. Thomas, Perkins and Vicar Trent. They were the only people who agreed to testify that her father was of sound mind.

If only Lord Crew would return. She sent a note to him earlier in the day, but knew it would not arrive in time and even if it did, it was not possible for Lord Crew to return to assist. She should not have bothered the man, but she was compelled to do so nonetheless. Lord Crew was her father’s closest friend and he would be more upset had he not been informed.

Grace stood and walked to the window to look out of the rolling hills. There were few people she could call on. She already asked the Otten’s, when she delivered milk this morning. Though they wished they could help, Mr. Otten said he wasn’t confident her father was in his right mind. The man hadn’t once visited since the accident so how could he possibly know about her father’s health. It would serve him right if the cows gave them sour milk tomorrow.

She shook the uncharitable thought from her mind. She was a better person than this. Still, the entire situation made her angry. Ten families had been listed and this morning she visited each, all to be turned away without an offer of hope. What was she to do?

“Your father is taking his tea on the terrace, Miss Cooper.”

Grace turned to Mrs. Thomas who stood in the door. She had not realized it was so late. “I will be along momentarily.”

Grace folded the list and put it in the drawer. She would think more on this later, after her visit with father.

It was another crisp fall day, her favorite time of the year. Unfortunately it would turn cold soon and she reminded herself to check the wood supply for the winter.

“Good afternoon, Father. Did you have a nice rest?” She took the seat to his left. His only response was a slight smile and short nod of his head.

Mrs. Thomas poured her a cup of tea and excused herself to go back inside. Grace added a lump of sugar before she sipped from her cup. If only Vicar Trent were here, perhaps he would have a suggestion or two. No, that wasn’t possible. He lived here barely two weeks and didn’t know the residents nearly as well as she did. On the other hand, he was the vicar and if he appealed to them for help they would have to agree, wouldn’t they? The idea needed further consideration.

Grace sighed and sank back in her chair. Never had she met such a serious man. Perhaps it was his vocation that required him to be so. No, Vicar Merker laughed often. And Vicar Trent’s brother was certainly not without humor or charm. But Vicar Trent was the more compassionate of the two. The way his eyes warmed when he assured her of his help. Just his quiet strength gave her hope. He was also the more handsome of the two, without question. They may look much alike, but Vicar Trent had much bluer eyes, straighter nose, firmer cheek bones and very nice lips.

Grace jerked at the thought and spilled the tea on her dress. Goodness, whatever possessed her to think of Vicar Trent’s lips. He was her vicar! Oh dear, surely there was something sacrilege about her thoughts.

She sighed and settled back, not bothering to dab the dampness from her skirt. At the moment she didn’t care. It wasn’t like anyone came to call and would notice and why change into another dress?

Melancholy settled around her. If she did marry, she would have a husband to protect her family. Grace turned to her father. “Perhaps you are right. Maybe it would be best if I married.”

He tilted his head and watched her intently, giving no indication with either his eyes or a smile that he agreed or disagreed.

“I am just not sure Misters Richards, Draker or Thorn would be a good match.” Were there no other gentlemen to consider in the parish? The more she thought about it the more she realized those were the only possible candidates at the moment. The rest were too old, too young or already married.

Grace leaned back, closed her eyes and tried to imagine living in a house with any of the men. None of them looked right sitting at the head of the table, as if they didn’t fit. A vision of Vicar Trent sitting at the head of the table came to her. He smiled and his eyes shone with warmth. Odd that she would think of him as smiling for he rarely did. He had a lovely smile and she needed to see to it that he smiled more.

A continual clank, clank, clank brought Grace out of her train of thought and she looked at her father. His gaze was fixed straight ahead, unblinking. His left hand stirred the spoon in a now empty cup. She was on her feet in a moment and pulled the table away from her father’s reach so he would not be injured.

“Perkins,” she yelled at the top of her voice and grabbed for the wooden spoon always kept in her pocket.

The tremors began as Perkins came to the terrace and he helped Grace lay her father on the ground. She slid the spoon between his teeth just before they clamped down and his eyes rolled back in his head. They kept a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him from flaying about until the fit passed. Grace breathed a sigh of relief when his jaw went slack, and his eyes closed with the end of the convulsions.

“Miss Cooper, may I be of assistance?”

Grace looked up to find Vicar Trent standing in the doorway. He may have addressed her but his eyes were on her father lying prone on the terrace. She hated for anyone to witness her father’s episodes and nobody had since those first months. They already thought him not to be of sound mind. What would they think if they knew he still suffered from these attacks? What would Uncle Henry do when he found out?

“No, everything is taken care of.”

Her father stirred and she glanced down at him. Confusion marred his brow. Grace smoothed his worried forehead. “You had a spell, Papa, but all is well now.”

He tried to sit and Perkins put his arm beneath his employer’s shoulder and brought him to a sitting position. This was always the most difficult part. Father could barely walk on his own and sometimes getting him off the ground was near impossible for her and the valet.

“Here, let me assist.” Vicar Trent was at her side in a moment and she moved out of the way. Between the vicar and the valet, they had her father on his feet and were assisting him into a chair.

“Father should be taken to bed. He usually sleeps for a full day following these incidents.”