A teacher should know this. Matthew stepped toward the group. “It is approximately one and a half feet.”
They looked up at him in surprise. Miss Cooper curtseyed and the children took a step back. Were they still afraid of him?
“Though, the Egyptians used the measurement from the tip of the middle finger to the elbow.” He held up his arm in demonstration.
A few of the children did the same, comparing the length of their arms. “But none of them are the same size.”
“No, they are not, which is why they measured a man’s arm.”
A few children seemed to study him. “Why don’t you measure my arm and then measure out the width of the temple.”
Miss Cooper opened her mouth and her eyes widened. He suspected his offer surprised her, especially after last week.
“Becca, do you have string left over?”
A little girl with brown curls rushed forward. Tommy took the string and measured Matthew’s arm before he raced off with the older boys. They placed a stake in the ground and measured until they reached approximately twenty cubits. As they made their way across the pasture, the remaining children’s eyes grew wider and wider. They stared in awe when the last stake was hammered into the ground. Tommy stood with hands on his hips triumphant. “That is how wide Solomon’s temple was,” he yelled back to them.
Their eyes kept going from one stake to the other, as if they were still trying to comprehend the size.
Miss Cooper chuckled. “I told you it was large.”
“Blimey,” a young boy uttered.
Miss Cooper turned to Matthew. “Thank you for the explanation. I am sure the children now have a better understanding.” Happiness sparkled in her emerald eyes, and he noticed the small dimple at the left corner of her mouth. Her pale, pink lips puckered nicely too.
What was he thinking?
Matthew offered a quick bow. “It is my pleasure. Now, I need to return to my work.” He had to leave. Miss Cooper made him take leave of his purpose.
“Wait,” she called when he turned to walk away. “How was my father? Did the two of you get on well?”
He was not sure how to answer. Did he want to alert Miss Cooper to the possibility her father may be suffering from melancholy? She already worried about him. “I enjoyed my visit very much. And, your father was not without his opinions.”
“Of that I don’t doubt. He and Vicar Merker, before the accident, often had lively discussions.”
“I believe he was a bit frustrated at times since he could only tell me what he was thinking by writing it out.”
Her face sobered and tears sprung to her eyes. He hadn’t meant to say anything to upset Miss Cooper.
“He tried to write?”
“Yes. I assumed that is how he conversed when a nod would not suffice.”
She smiled and swiped a tear. “My father hasn’t tried to write in a very long time. He gave up in frustration when he had to write with his left hand.”
“I would have never guessed, though he struggled a bit.”
“Thank you.” She reached out and grasped his hand before she quickly let it go, as if realizing her actions were not proper. “Nobody has given my father reason to try and write again.”
His heart constricted. He never dreamed his words could cause a man to attempt something he had given up on and wasn’t sure how to respond to Miss Cooper. “I am glad he was motivated.” With that, he took his leave and made his way back to the parish house.
What was it about Miss Cooper? This morning he had looked for her and noted she sat in the fifth pew on the right. At least she wasn’t late this morning, but her presence was a distraction just the same. As with the week before she sang with joy and during the sermon her eyes never left him. Granted, they could have strayed when he looked somewhere else, but when he returned his gaze to her, she still watched, a smile on her face as if she was having a very fine time. Didn’t she know the Lord’s house was a somber place for meditation and the asking for forgiveness of sins? Surely, her father would have taught her this proper behavior. Nobody else in the church smiled so why did she?
During the sermon he found himself consulting his notes more often than not when distracted by her clear, green eyes. He was the vicar in this parish and needed to remember his purpose. It was not to be attracted to a parishioner, no matter how pretty. He needed to keep that in mind. How could he lead a flock if his mind was on her?
Mr. Cooper asked that he return soon and Matthew agreed. However, on reflection he knew he would need to make those visits when Miss Cooper was not at home. It was safer for him and his profession if he kept his distance. A gentleman could not serve the Lord if he was focused on someone else.
Matthew walked into his office and stood at his desk. The foolscap of Matthew 5:48 stared at him. Beside it he placed the verse Mr. Cooper had written out for him. Though it was near indecipherable, Matthew could still read it. Ecclesiastes7:20, There is not a righteous man on earth who does what is right and never sin. As Mr. Cooper pointed out, that while Matthew aimed for perfection, he would never be without sin, nor would those in the parish. Was the older man trying to deliver a warning about righteousness? Matthew wished he could have understood better. It was something he needed to keep in mind, though he would still strive for perfection for the Lord. Nothing else was acceptable for him and he feared never achieving it.
He settled behind his desk and tried to concentrate on next week’s sermon. The children’s laughter carried on the wind and into his open window. He could not work this way. He needed silence. Matthew rose and walked out of the room. He stood in the middle of the hall and wondered where he could move his office. On this side of the house was the parlor, a library and his study. Across the hall was the dining room and kitchen. There were four rooms upstairs, but those were reserved as bedrooms. On the other hand, he was a bachelor. How many bedrooms did one need? His decision made, Matthew went upstairs to the room farthest from where the children played. The bed and armoire could be stored in the attic and his desk, table and bookshelves would be brought here. He would no longer hear Miss Cooper and thus be able to concentrate.
Grace did not know what to make of Vicar Trent. His sermons were delivered with passion. Though sober and serious, there was still emotion in his words. She rarely saw him smile. Yet, he was kind and courteous to her father when others dismissed him. One thing was clear, he did not like her. It seemed like he could barely stand to be in her presence and she could not for the life of her understand his disdain.
She wished it were different for she would like to know him better. It was important that a parishioner be able to speak in comfort with her minister, but she was not sure if Vicar Trent was approachable.
Perhaps if he wasn’t so handsome she would feel differently. She had even been distracted by his eyes during the sermon today. When his voice boomed to make a point clear his blue darkened and when he sang, they became lighter. If she watched his eyes she would always be able to tell his mood. This revelation had been disconcerting since they always darkened when he spent any amount of time in her presence. Since she was happiest when she sang she assumed Vicar Trent was the same and since his eyes darkened only during the more forceful portions of the sermon. Grace came to the conclusion that his eyes darkened around her because he did not like to be in her presence.
There wasn’t much to be done about it. He had judged her. She had left poor first impressions and those could not be taken back. Perhaps in time he would come to view her differently. She would just need to learn to be less disruptive to his life and maybe they would become friends one day.
Her stomach plummeted when she reached the crest of the hill and looked toward her house. There was no mistaking the carriage in the drive. Uncle Henry, Baron Stillwaite, had come to call. Grace raced toward the house, afraid for her father and wondering how long her uncle had been here. It could not have been all that long for surely Vicar Trent would have mentioned it to her, wouldn’t he? She didn’t fear Uncle Henry would hurt her father, not in the physical sense, but he had threatened several times to see him committed if his condition did not improve, without ever once visiting to see if he had. If only Draker, Richards and Thorn hadn’t written, then her uncle probably wouldn’t have given her and father another thought.
She flew into the house and came to an abrupt stop when her uncle turned toward her. His face red with rage. “You lied to me,” he yelled.
Grace refused to back down. “I did no such thing.”“You said my brother had improved.” He gestured to her father who sat in a comfortable chair by the fire. “He has not.”
Grace walked over and stood beside her father, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “When you last saw Father, he could not leave the bed. His condition improves daily.”
“Ha.” The man walked over and helped himself to her father’s brandy. “He can’t even speak. What makes you think he comprehends?”
“Because I know he does.” She raised her chin in defiance.
Uncle Henry drained the liquid in his glass and poured another. “I should have known better than to leave his care to you. My brother does not need to be in a house coddled by women. He needs a hospital where he can be properly taken care of.”