A Perfect Gentleman(2)

The words he rehearsed and memorized came back to him and he no longer looked at his outline, but focused on those in the pews. He had to reach them. Each and every one. Even the tardy young woman in the back. Yes, his purpose was to be perfect for God, a perfect gentleman, a perfect vicar, and thus, make sure each of them was as perfect as they could be. It was a duty instilled in him from a very young age and he could not fail.

Though Matthew tried to look to those in the front as well as the back, he did not glance in the direction of the very last pew. He could not afford to be distracted again. By the time he said the final prayer, his hands no longer shook. He nodded to Mrs. Phillips, and she played the last Psalm of the morning. Matthew took a deep breath and moved to stand by his seat. He’d delivered his first sermon in his very own church. Singing the song from memory, he looked at his flock. The room was packed but he didn’t deceive himself into thinking it would always be this way. He was new and positive several of those in attendance came simply to judge him. Though he wished it were different, he wasn’t so naive to believe otherwise.

There were older people, some with canes that sat by themselves or with an equally aged spouse. There were younger couples with children settled between them, some becoming more fidgety as the morning grew long, and every age in between. He remembered having to sit through church as a small boy when the weather was perfect for running and playing. He used to stare longingly out the window while Vicar Hinrich rambled on about one lesson or another. Though he should have paid attention to each and every word, by the time Sunday arrived, Matthew already knew what the sermon was by heart. Vicar Hinrich had practiced it in front of him and as he got older, Matthew had even helped him write a few.

He glanced to the tardy woman in the back. Her face shone in happiness as she sang. Why did he look in her direction? An older woman stood next to her. When she noted his focus, she glared at the younger one. Matthew was not sure what to make of it. Was she piqued because the younger one was late? Or, perhaps the young woman couldn’t sing at all and it appeared she sang loudly by the joy on her face. It was difficult to appreciate an off key voice blaring in one’s ear. Perhaps it was the woman’s joy. A person should show respect and be serious and repentant in a church, not glow with happiness as if she were attending a party.

There was no point in speculation. Matthew knew nothing about the people in this parish, but would soon enough. Then he would be able to know who liked and disliked who and why.

When the last verse began, he placed his Bible on the pulpit and made his way down the aisle and stepped out into the bright sunshine. Soon the parishioners would exit the church and he would greet most of them for the first time. His palms began to sweat anew and he swiped them against his robe.

They came out of church in single file, waiting in line to meet him. Nobody skipped out through the wide door to avoid an introduction. Instead, the line continued all the way down the aisle. How many people were here? The names and faces swam in his brain. How long would it be before he could remember each and every one?

After an eternity, the end was in sight and the older woman from the back stepped forward.

“It was an invigorating sermon, Vicar Trent. I am so glad you joined our parish.” The woman practically gushed.

“Thank you, um, Mrs … “

“Mrs. Montgomery.” She beamed. “You must come by for tea. Or better yet, dinner. As a bachelor, I am sure you would appreciate a nice meal in the company of others. It is not good for the digestion to eat alone.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Montgomery.” Each wife and widow, old and young, had invited him to dinner. At this rate, he would not have to eat alone for six months.

“Is tomorrow too soon?” she asked.

“I am afraid it is. I am still trying to get settled.”

A look of disappointment crossed her face.

“Might I call on you later in the week, Mrs. Montgomery? We can discuss a convenient evening then.”

Her smile returned. “I look forward to it.” She stepped away and glanced at the young woman behind her. Mrs. Montgomery stopped. “I promise that not all of the young, available women in this parish are as inconsiderate as you might have witnessed. Why my Audrey would never be late to a service.”

Matthew bit the inside of his cheek. So, the woman had a daughter. Why did every mother think a vicar needed a wife? No, he amended his thoughts. Every bachelor needs a wife. “I don’t recall meeting your daughter. Did she come through earlier?”

“Oh, no.” The woman waved her hand. “My Audrey is visiting with her aunt, Lady Hartley. The countess. She will return from London this afternoon, now that the little season is coming to a conclusion.”

He wondered what Mrs. Montgomery would think if she knew his father had been an earl until his death back in January. Until recently, he had been third in line for the title. But now that Clayton had married, Matthew would move further down the list, as he should, once Clayton’s heirs were born. No doubt Mrs. Montgomery’s opinion of him would increase but in truth, titles meant nothing to him. Souls however did.





Grace bit back a groan. Mrs. Montgomery had never liked her and she shouldn’t be surprised that the woman didn’t hesitate to point out her faults to the new vicar. Grace’s face heated when Vicar Trent raised an accusing eyebrow and looked in her direction. He had the most beautiful blue eyes. The color of the sky on a crisp autumn day.

She ignored the older woman and bobbed a curtsey to Vicar Trent. “I apologize. My chores took longer than I anticipated this morning.”

Mrs. Montgomery had not moved on and remained focused on her. “One should not work on the Lord’s Sabbath, Miss Cooper.”

Could her face become hotter? Grace forced her jaw to unclench so she could address the older woman, and in as polite of tone as she could muster. “I will mention that to the cows, Mrs. Montgomery. Perhaps they could produce twice the milk on Saturday and then we could all rest on Sunday.”

The woman stared at her, brows knitted in confusion and Grace couldn’t resist adding, “As when God provided manna for two days, the day before the Sabbath, for those wandering in the dessert.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Mrs. Montgomery stuck her nose in the air, turned around and marched off.

Satisfied, Grace turned back to Vicar Trent. “I am Grace Cooper and I do apologize for my tardiness. I will try not to let it happen again.”

“It would be most appreciated, Miss Cooper, if you did arrive on time.”

Grace was slightly taken aback. She knew it was not well done of her to be late, but to have the new vicar chastise her at their very first meeting was a bit disconcerting. Isn’t a vicar supposed to be approachable, understanding and forgiving? Vicar Merker had been all of those, exactly what one expected from a man of the cloth. Vicar Trent’s blue eyes held no warmth and there wasn’t even a hint of a smile on his lips. This was not good at all.

“Again, I apologize.” She nodded her head and stepped away.

Mr. Richards rushed toward her when she stepped into the shadows of the steeple. “How are you this fine day, Miss Cooper?”

The man’s grin was wide and he offered her his arm, which Grace took. She needed to find a way to discourage his suit, but she did not want to be rude in the process. “I am well, thank you.”

“And your father? How is he getting on?”

At least Mr. Richards’ question seemed sincere. Unfortunately, she could not say the same for some of the others in the village. “Papa is about the same.”

The smile fell from Mr. Richards’ face. “I am sorry to hear that. There is no hope for improvement?”

It saddened her to say so, but knew she must face the truth. “It has been two years since the accident. I do not expect any further improvement.”

“Miracles do happen.”

Grace would love to be encouraged by Mr. Richards’ words, but gave up hope long ago that her father would ever speak again. “I pray every day, but have come to accept this is my father’s future.”

Mr. Richards patted her hand. “Might I escort you home?” He gestured to his carriage not far away.

Grace would love to ride home, but again, did not want to offer any further encouragement. “No thank you, but it was kind of you to offer.”

She broke away from Mr. Richards and walked toward the hill. If she took the road, he would probably ride along beside her until she reached her destination. Besides, she had been gone long enough and the shorter route would get her back to papa quicker. Grace tightened the ribbon under her chin to secure her bonnet and glanced back. The new vicar watched her, a frown on his face. She did not acknowledge him and began her trek.

What did he find so disapproving of her? Granted, she was late this morning, but should one be judged so quickly on one instance? She certainly hoped this was not his normal disposition. He didn’t even smile when he delivered the blessing, or sang. Being forgiven was a wonderful thing and should make a person happy. Perhaps the new vicar didn’t know how to smile, which would be very sad indeed because laughter was the most wonderful thing in the world. She certainly hoped he didn’t come here to judge and take all the enjoyment from the community. That would not be good. Not good at all. Further, she would not allow it to happen.