But Jonathan also knew he brought many of his troubles upon himself. He could avoid Pamela. Better still, he could act upon his desires, and allow himself to be happy.
But a principle was a principle, and he was also too afraid. Afraid of Pamela, that she did not return his love, not truly. That she would love him because of his fortune, not himself. Afraid for Pamela and any children they might have, because to have so many people to love was to risk them. To risk all. They were mere hostages to Fortune, and she was a fickle whore at best.
At any moment something dreadful like disease, an arbitrary and senseless act of God, or a violent person, could wrest them from him in the blink of an eye.
No, far better to carry on as he did, meeting his obligations in his personal and professional life, than to take a gauzy little butterfly like Pamela and rip off her wings.
At length he pulled the gig up in front of her front door, and gently woke her.
"Miss Ashton, Pamela, wake up. We're here." He gazed down at her, and she opened her eyes.
She gave him a warm returning smile, before she suddenly realized where she was: with her head on Jonathan's shoulder.
She sat bolt upright and began to stammer an apology.
"It's fine. Not your fault. After all, it's the least an elderly paternal figure like myself can do," he said as he got out of the gig, and helped her out, his hands warm and hard around her waist.
"Still, it's rather rude, after everything you've done for me. I thank you."
"It is you who are helping me, by helping the parish and my friends." He placed his hand under her chin, and forced the suddenly shy woman to look at him. "It is nothing to be ashamed of. Think nothing of it."
She met his gaze, nodded, and placed her hand on his. Even through their warm winter gloves, the heat scorched them both.
He lifted the pair of baskets from the floor of the gig and brought them in the front door. She stood framed in the doorway as it was opened. Limned in light, she looked like a golden angel, and he reached out his hand to caress her waist, pull her to him for a kiss.
She took it instead, misunderstanding the gesture, and saved him from complete disaster.
"Thank you for everything, Mr. Deveril. Good night."
Sarah called goodnight from the gig, and waved.
Pamela waved back, and with a last longing look at the vicar, disappeared through her front door amid a swirl of flakes.
Jonathan stood staring on the stoop, feeling an utter fool. Then he shook himself and got back in the gig.
Sarah said quietly, "She's a good woman. You could do worse."
Jonathan shook his head. "She is a Society Miss who will be married by the end of the season to some swell in the Ton. She's not for me, even if I were free. Which I'm not. You know I gave my word. I know you would love to have her as a sister, but it cannot be. And that's all I am going to say on the subject," he said in tones so bitter his sister sat away from him in her corner of the conveyance and left him to his brooding.
Sarah could only hope his anger was a good sign. That it might shake him out of the torpid state of limbo in his personal life which he had been living in ever since he had returned from the war.
He was a fine vicar and a good man. But he could not keep denying the man part without hurting himself, and any woman who came to care for him. She was becoming more and more convinced that Pamela Ashton was that woman. Only time would tell.
Sarah offered up a prayer that both would see the other for their worth, take the love that was within them, and forge each other's happiness, even out of the terrible events and secrets of the past. And sooner rather than later, she prayed, before Pamela fell prey to another's charms, and Jonathan ended up wretched forever
Chapter Fifteen
The next fortnight passed far more quickly than the previous two, but for Pamela, they were worlds apart. Where she had been bored and jaded, now she was constantly excited and optimistic.
Her course of reading which her new friends had given her had become an essential part of her daily life, and she looked forward to the instruction Jonathan and his sister set for her.
Her teaching of the local parishioners proved more of a challenge than she had thought it would, but she persevered. Jonathan supported and encouraged her efforts wholeheartedly. She was delighted to think he was proud of her, and how much good she was doing for the people of Brimley.
She told herself again that she did not care for his good opinion. That she was doing this because it was the correct course of action. Yet she was pleased at his praise, and delighted to see him in the parish hall so often.
He also kept his word and called upon her one day, spending the entire afternoon and evening going over the most pressing affairs of the estate, showing her how to track their investments, and keep her checkbook balanced.