The Wentworths
Part 14
The week before he was to leave, Edward made a trip into town on errands of Mrs. Grimes. As he was turning away from the counter at the chandler, he found himself looking down into the dark eyes of Miss Anne Elliot. He drew back a step in deep surprise. "Miss Elliot!" he whispered.
"Mr. Wentworth," she whispered back.
Edward recovered first, and taking her elbow, steered her towards a quiet corner of the shop. "Forgive me, Miss Elliot, I was taken by surprise. I did not know you were back in this part of the country. I understood you to be in London. You are well, I hope, and your family."
"Yes," she said faintly. Then she straightened, and looked him in the eye as she spoke. "Yes, we are all very well. I must confess myself glad to be back in the country, however. London does not agree with me, I believe." She smiled.
"I can readily believe that!" He smiled down into her eyes, and saw that she was studying him. Perhaps for some resemblance to Frederick? "Well, Miss Elliot, I am glad to have run into you. I am leaving myself, you know."
"Yes, I did hear; Mrs. Grimes has been a faithful correspondent!" She looked down at her hands, fiddling with the ties to her reticule, then back up at him, as if she wanted to ask him something but did not dare. He thought he knew what she wanted to ask, so he said quietly, "He is well, Miss Elliot. And at sea." She flushed, and knew not where to look. He looked carefully around them, then grasped her elbow again to lead her outside. They stopped in the street, and he said, "The Grimes and myself are the only ones who know anything of the matter, Miss Elliot, and you may be as assured of my secrecy as you are of the Grimes'." Anne turned away from him, and he saw her eyes were full. "Forgive me for speaking plainly, Miss Elliot, but I cannot claim to understand the matter. I know only that my brother was as upset at the parting as you seem to have been. I bear you no ill will, for I hope I know you better than to think you had any evil intent. Please..." He broke off, for he knew not what else to say. After a moment, "I am sorry to have caused you any more pain, Miss Elliot. I wish you only the best." He put his hat back on his head, and moved to hand her into the waiting carriage, but she stopped him, her small hand on his arm.
"Thank you, Mr. Wentworth. Your words have meant more to me than you can know. I did . . .I did only what I thought was best for him." She broke off, the tears spilling onto her cheeks, and climbed into the carriage. He shut the door behind her, gave her a fleeting look, and turned away. A moment later, she was gone.
Edward walked home in silent contemplation. He still did not understand the whole, but at least he knew that Anne Elliot had loved Frederick, loved him still, and was suffering for it. He began to think that perhaps Mrs. Grimes had been right, and that Anne would never marry. The thought saddened him.
Part 15 <
The days that followed were charged with excitement and energy, as Edward put the past behind him and looked forward to his new life in a new county. He wondered what challenges awaited him there. As he packed his belongings, he found a book that was not his own. It was Frederick's. As he leafed through it, a slip of paper fell out, and he leaned to pick it up off the floor. It was a pencil drawing of the head of a female. Upon closer inspection, he saw that it was Anne Elliot. He knew not who had drawn it or when, but he reverently slipped it back between the leaves of the book and packed it amongst his own.
Part 16
Jenny Tavington stood up, brushed off her skirt with her apron, and closed the trunk she had been kneeling in front of. She stood with her hands on her hips, surveying her day's work. She and Betsy had cleaned the floors, washed the windows, changed the sheets, polished the furniture, and done anything else they could think of to make the room habitable for a man they had not yet met.
"Betsy, I think we are finally done. Thank you for all your hard work today." She smiled tiredly at the maid, then said, "You had best be off to dinner, and tell Mrs. Hancock that we won't be needing you tonight. I think we've both earned a little rest tonight!"
"Thank you, Miss! I believe we have, if you'll pardon me for saying so." The girl dropped a quick curtsy and scurried out of the room, taking the last of the cleaning supplies with her. Jenny turned in a slow circle, taking in each detail of the room, the tall dresser, elegant if a bit out of date, the wide, graceful bed with it's rich covering, the leather armchair. It was not a wholly masculine room, but it was not obviously feminine either. It looked welcoming enough, but not friendly, she thought to herself. Flowers. A vase of flowers would do well on the bedside table. Do men like flowers, she thought? Finally, she turned to go, flicking the drapery closed as she passed, and with a last look she closed the door behind her.
Jenny had been surprised when her father had chosen a vicar without even meeting him first. She had never met Mr. Grimes, but her father spoke of him often. She didn't know what it was that made Papa hold this Mr. Grimes in such high regard, but she hoped that he was worthy of the trust Papa had given him in this instance. Jenny had always been involved with the local parish, both as the daughter of the Great House, and as a Christian. She had worked well under the tutelage of the last vicar, a gentle old man, a bit befuddled, but with a kind and generous heart. She hoped that she could continue her activities once the new vicar got settled in. She knew that some young men didn't think her activities were seemly, and she hoped this Edward Wentworth wasn't one of them. She hated to be seen as a helpless female, one who needed to be protected and preserved. She was not afraid of life, and she wanted to be allowed to live her own as she saw fit.
Having changed into more appropriate clothes for the drawing room, she pushed a few stray hairs back into place with hair pins, and made a quick survey of herself in the mirror before going down to her father. Tall, perhaps a bit too much so, dark brown hair, brushed into an elegant yet serviceable knot at the back of her head. Her eyes were hazel, her lips and skin pale. She knew she had been called pretty, but she couldn't see it herself. Her hair was naturally curly, so these little wisps were her constant aggravation. Another slipped down just as she was about to go, and she pushed the air out of her lungs in noisy exasperation as she tried to make it mind her. When she finally thought she was presentable, she turned away from the mirror, forgetting her reflection as soon as it was gone, and went to her father.
Part 17
Jenny and Josiah Tavington lived at Tavington House, the principle inhabitants of the village of Varian. Jenny's mother had married above herself, it was said, and Josiah still owned the house his wife had grown up in, in the nearby town of Basingly. The house was a lovely, large one, but not of the same caliber of Tavington House. Jemima Colby's family had been an genteel one, but not wealthy, and when Josiah Tavington had married her, it was generally thought Jemima had done much better than she deserved. Jemima thought so as well, for she loved Josiah deeply, and felt all the honor of becoming a Tavington and living in Tavington House. As Jemima had no brothers, her parents' house came to her on their death, and to Josiah on her own. It was now used for the rectory of the church in Basingly. It was occupied at present, however, by the incumbent, still in the process of packing and moving his belongings, so the new vicar would have to stay at Tavington House until Colby House was ready. It was his room Jenny had spent the day preparing, and now it lay ready for his imminent arrival on the morrow.
Jenny sat at the end of the table, determined to enjoy the last evening with her father alone. She wondered what the topic of conversation would be this time tomorrow. Would this Mr. Wentworth be a sniveling sort of person? Would he want to talk on religious matters each night at table? Would he bore Papa (and herself as well, for that matter) to death? She sighed to herself, and leaned resolutely forward to say, "Papa, our last evening in only our own company!"
"Do you regret that Mr. Wentworth comes to us, my dear?" Tavington asked gently.
"Oh, no, Papa!"
"Are you glad, then to have another at table, so that your father's company will not be so irksome?" Tavington asked, with the corner of his mouth turned up.
"Oh, Papa, how can you! Indeed, I do not regret that he is coming, and yet, I shall miss our quiet dinners. I only hope this Mr. Wentworth will not be a boring companion for you! You will be forced into his company far more often than I."
"Grimes said I would enjoy this fellow most particularly, Jenny, my love, so I look forward to meeting him and finding out just what Grimes means." He chuckled to himself as he took a bite of his meal.
"You don't think he has sent Mr. Wentworth here as a joke upon you, do you Papa?" Jenny was confused by her father's way of putting things, and bit her lip in some consternation. It had been years since her father had seen this Grimes fellow. How did he know that Grimes wasn't a bit touched or that he still knew what would truly please her father?
"Oh, no, my dear! I trust Grimes implicitly. He is no fool, and he is a great planner. Trust me, he has sent this Wentworth fellow for all the right reasons, and I've no doubt we'll be perfectly satisfied with him." The matter seemed closed, and taking this as a sign to turn the conversation, Jenny told him of all she had done to prepare for Mr. Wentworth. She was loquacious enough for this discussion to last the rest of dinner, and it ended only on their retirement to the drawing room.
Part 18
Tuesday dawned gray, and mist covered the windows of Tavington House. Jenny thought absently that Mr. Wentworth would have a wet ride. The preparations were complete, she had only to sit and await his arrival. It was too bad, for the only occupations she now had at her disposal were those that used only her hands and not her head. While her hands were busy at her sewing, her mind was busy at creating the figure and character of Mr. Wentworth. He must be a bit of a blockhead, coming to Shropshire to get a parish. Could he not get something closer to town, she thought. These young, earnest men always seemed to want to be close to town, although for what reason she could not tell. She had had a season in London, with her Aunt Cavely in Belgrave Square. It had been fun for a week or two, but then the parties and balls had grown wearying, the company worse, and it was all she could do to fend off the unwanted admirers and keep count of the days 'til she could go home. The end had come at last, and she was sent home with a sigh of resignation from her aunt that it was a pity she didn't try harder, she could have had any number of offers, if she had only tried a little harder.
Tavington House was home, it was a quiet refuge, and she could not regret London, even two years later. She was a sociable woman, she liked company, liked to dance, liked to sing. But the season in London had been quite unreal. Jenny had never known who was in earnest and who was in jest. She could not believe that any of the men who had admired her had any real thoughts of her mind or her heart, and she was determined that it would be these which would find her a husband, and not her fortune.
Her father had not been angry, nor displeased. Jenny's happiness was the only thing he asked in life. That and to have some time alone in his library each day. If Jenny didn't want to marry some town dandy, then she would not, and if Jenny wanted to live at Tavington House for the rest of her days, Josiah would not stop her. But he did not for one moment believe that Jenny would be a spinster. Sitting now in his library, Tavington again read the letter Grimes had sent.
I know you will assist me, my dear friend, in making sure this young fellow has the chance he deserves. You will find him fine company, shrewd and intelligent, and (Mrs. Grimes informs me) handsome, too, which will make Jenny happy, I know. If he continues as he goes on now, he will one day have a library large enough to rival even yours, and perhaps he may one day have yours, as well.
Tavington chuckled at that. So Grimes thought this young man a worthy husband for his Jenny, did he? Well, Tavington thought, we'll just see about that!
Part 19
Here's the 'wet' part you've been waiting for.....
As the day wore on, the weather worsened, the rain fell heavier. Edward was soaked to the skin, despite his heavy great coat. His hands were sore with holding the reigns, his feet were numb from gripping the stirrups. He cursed himself under his breath for undertaking the trip on horseback. The gelding's ears tipped backward, hearing his language, and Edward leaned forward to pat his neck reassuringly. "No, no, not you, Kasey. I am only cursing myself. If I had not been so headstrong, you and I both could have made this trip in more comfort than at present! My apologies, sir!" The horse picked up his pace, as if he understood these words, and Edward could only sigh in resignation. He would not make the best of impressions on his new benefactor, arriving in this fashion. What's done is done, however, and he could not turn back now.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The later the hour grew, the more horrible Mr. Wentworth's picture in Jenny's mind became. He was an evil man, not fit to be in the Church, who would arrive at his new benefactor's house only in his own good time. Her father was duped indeed, by this so called friend Grimes! Her stitches showed her agitation, becoming both too tight and uneven. She sighed loudly, and began removing the work of the last quarter hour. "Anything wrong, my dear?" her father asked mildly, peering over his newspaper.
Jenny grimaced, pulling an errant stitch out, "I've only made an error in the pattern, that is all," she answered testily. She glanced at her father as his nose went back into his paper. She wondered at him! How could he not worry about the kind of man he was pushing onto his tenants as their spiritual leader? The sky lit up with lightening, and her father paused only to glance out the window before he returned to his newspaper. "You might ask Betsy to have a bed warmer ready, Jenny-love. Mr. Wentworth is bound to be wet through by the time he arrives." Tavington turned the page casually, pretending not to notice his daughter's aggravation. Jenny stood, tossing her needlework onto her chair, and strode to the bell pull. She paced to the window and pressed her forehead to the pane. "Perhaps you have mistaken the day of his arrival, Papa?" she asked quietly. Betsy came in before Tavington could reply, Jenny bade her warm Mr. Wentworth's bed, and she departed. Jenny turned back to the window, narrowing her eyes as if she could see through the dark to the road better that way.
"Jenny, please sit down. Mr. Wentworth will arrive tonight, and I daresay he will be wet. We will make him as comfortable as we can tonight, and we will get to know him a little in the morning. Grimes is an excellent man, he would only ask me to take on an excellent man. You need not fear for the souls of the general populous, as I know you have been doing." He turned back to his paper. Jenny's face showed her surprise at his words, and she blushed, conscious that she should not have thought so little of her father's judgment. She went uneasily back to her chair and picked up her needlework with a new resolution.
She had not been working on it thus for long when the sounds of shouts were heard in the yard, accompanied by the sound of hooves. Her father closed his paper, and straightened his clothes as he stood, and prepared to meet his new clergyman. Jenny followed his example, striving to appear composed, and mentally went through a list of the things she had done in preparation, making sure each task had been completed. The flowers! She had forgotten them. Well, they would have to wait until morning. She heard Calvin in the hall, and the gentle voice of a man in response. There was a bit of a scuffle, then the sound of a hand on the doorknob. Jenny turned to the door in expectation as it opened, but there was only Calvin.
"Mr. Tavington, sir, Mr. Wentworth has arrived," he said nervously.
"So I have gathered, Calvin, please show him in." It was said sternly, but not unkindly, with a bit of wonder that this had not been done already.
"I would, sir, except, he seems to be quite ill! He's collapsed in the chair in the front hall!"
Part 20
Edward's head felt heavy, his whole body did really. He tried to open his eyes, but he felt blinded by a bright light. His hands were tingling, he felt as if he still held Kasey's reigns in them. He tried to move, but something was on him, weighing him down. He turned his head and moaned.
There was a scrape, and the sound of footsteps, then a cool, soft hand on his forehead. He heard a sigh, then he felt someone shifting the weight on top of him. "Where am I?" he managed to gasp.
"You're going to be fine, Mr. Wentworth, just fine." A calm, soothing voice, faintly musical in timbre. There were more sounds, and he tried to open his eyes again, but he couldn't. He heard some whispering, then more footsteps, a door opened and closed. "Where am I?" he asked again.
"Tavington House, Mr. Wentworth, and you've been quite ill." A cool cloth was laid on his forehead, and this reassured him somehow. The melodious voice went on, "You arrived here quite late, and quite wet, so it seems you caught a chill. You've been here three days already."
"Kasey," he whispered.
"No, Jenny. My name is Jenny." There was a faint note of irritation in the voice now.
"My horse. Kasey."
"Your animal is fine, Mr. Wentworth, I assure you." The irritation had gone, and now there was a hint of laughter. "I've quite made friends with him already, you see, so I can assure you he's perfectly well." The cloth was removed, then replaced by a new one. A glass was put to his lips, and he sipped a little of the water. "You lie still now, or go back to sleep. The apothecary will be back to see you shortly." This was enough for Edward, and he slipped back to that place he had been before he had woken up.
If Jenny's mind had taken a romantic turn, she would have been quite pleased by the collapse of a handsome young man on her very doorstep. As she was not, however, she could only be worried for the man her father's friend had sent to them, a man her father was predisposed to like, and take care of him as if he were part of the family. She and Betsy nursed him as best they could, her father's valet and a footman changing his clothes and bed linen for them. The apothecary came daily. As she soaked the cloth in cool water, wrung it out, and replaced it on Mr. Wentworth's forehead, she was struck again at how handsome he was. She smiled when she thought of the minor domestic uproar he had caused, collapsing in the front hall like that. Calvin and a footman had carried him upstairs, a groom was sent for the apothecary, and Betsy and Jenny pressed into service to sit by his bedside in turns, in case he should wake.
She was glad, now, that it had been she who had been here when he woke. She felt oddly protective of him now. Kasey. He woke and been worried about his horse. That was a good sign, wasn't it? His first thoughts on waking were not of himself, he said nothing when she told him he had been ill for three days, but had asked after his horse. But why had she been so bothered by him asking about Kasey? She had thought at first it was a woman he was talking about. She had been relieved it was not.
Part 21
Edward heard voices, and struggled to hear them. He finally opened his eyes, slowly, one at a time. He could see two women and a man, conversing in low tones a few feet away. He blinked, and looked around the room. The bed he was lying in was large, the covers heavy on his limbs. There was a large window with the curtains drawn across it, a tall bureau. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a splash of color, and he turned his head to see what it was. A tall vase of colorful flowers was on the bedside table, their faces fresh and cheerful. He turned back to look at the people again.
The man was short, with spectacles, and he was talking calmly to the two women, a small bag in one hand, the other in his coat pocket. The younger of the women was obviously a domestic, her clothes tidy, her hands were working hands. As he watched, one of these hands came to touch lightly on the arm of the other woman, who immediately turned toward him. He blinked hard. She was lovely. Her brown hair curled around her pale face, her figure graceful beneath a gown of deep purple, her long, slender arms behind her, each hand grasping the elbow of the other arm. Her eyes came to rest on him, their deep color brightening when she saw he was awake. It was the kind of face one could not help smiling into. So he smiled. Her lips moved almost soundlessly, but her words spurned the man into action. He came quickly toward Edward.
Edward tried to give his full attention to the apothecary, but was unable to do so until the young lady left the room, which she did right away. He turned then, and attended to the medical man. He was older close up than he had appeared from across the room, but his was a face with laughter in it, as if, despite his occupation, he found more joy in life than sorrow. Edward knew immediately that he had fallen in capable hands.
As if hearing Edward's thoughts, the doctor said, "You are lucky, Mr. Wentworth, to have fallen into such good hands. Mr. Tavington is an excellent man."
"Indeed, sir?"
"Indeed, and Miss Tavington is an excellent young lady, as well; she looks like her poor mother, God rest her soul, but she has a bit of her father's spirit as well."
"Miss Tavington? Is that the young lady who was here just a moment ago?" Edward came to full attention, despite his somewhat cloudy thoughts.
"Yes, that was Jenny. She has been taking very good care of you, watching over you, making sure the servants did just what I asked."
"And how long have I been here, sir?"
"Three days, Mr. Wentworth."
"Three days! Good heavens! What must Mr. Tavington think of a clergyman who falls upon his doorstep in a faint and then imposes on him while he sleeps through three days in one of his beds!" Edward pulled himself up to a sitting position, then was immediately sorry he had. His head felt like it was spinning. The elderly doctor chuckled, "Aye, that is why you are still in bed, Mr. Wentworth." Edward slowly pushed himself back down, and carefully put his head down on the soft pillow. "And how much longer do you think it will be before I am able to be up and around, sir?"
"Oh, two or three days more, I should think, as long as you do not over tire yourself." The old man patted Edward on the hand and began to collect his things. "Miss Jenny will take good care of you, I am sure, Mr. Wentworth, and if you have need of me, you have only to tell her to send for me. I shall come back in a day or two to see how you get on." Mr. Crawley straightened and pulled on his jacket, his wizened fingers fumbling with the buttons.
"Thank you, sir, you are very kind. I am grateful for your attendance. When I am settled, I hope we may meet under better circumstances." He shook the doctor's hand, and the old man smiled down at him.
"I would be honored, Mr. Wentworth. Now, mind you follow Miss Jenny's orders. She's not a young woman to be gainsayed. Known her all her life, I have, and I could not leave you in better hands." He gave Edward a small wave from the door before it closed behind him.
Edward was left to admire the apartment he had been given. The room was elegant, but not in an obvious sort of way. The quality of the furniture was excellent, the bed linens fine. Edward turned on his side and pulled the coverlet up over his shoulder. He was tired, but not sleepy, and he wished for something to read, at the same time wondering if he would have the strength to even hold a book. A soft scratching at the door interrupted his thoughts, and the door opened enough to admit the young maid he had seen earlier. She brought with her a tray with a plate of food on it. "Mr. Crawley said as how you might be hungry, sir, " she said with a smile.
"Actually, I believe I am. Thank you." She helped him pull himself up enough to have the pillows rearranged behind his head so that he could eat. Then she lay the tray across his knees. "There ain't much there, sir, but the doctor said as how you should not eat too much right away. Shall I break the bread into pieces for you, Mister?"
"No, thank you, I am sure I can manage." She curtsied, then left the room. Despite his assurances to the maid, Edward found he could only eat by taking small bites, chewing very slowly, and resting his aching arms between. He had been a great deal more ill than he had thought.
When he had finished and was resting from the final exertion of drinking the tea, he lay back exhausted. No sooner had he done so than there was another scratching at the door and the same maid came in to remove the tray. He asked her name, was told it was Betsy, and thanked her for her assistance. "Oh, it's nothing, sir. Miss Jenny, she's been the one who done most everything. She wants me to ask you, sir, would it be all right for her to come to see you, and did you want her to bring you anything, and that Mr. Tavington will come to see you after supper."
Edward told her he lacked for nothing and would be glad to see Miss Tavington. He said nothing about the visit from Mr. Tavington, as he sensed this was not something he could avoid, nor did he wish to try.
Jenny Tavington came to the door just as the maid was leaving. She paused in the doorway a moment, then turned and closed it carefully.
"You will find there is a bit of a trick to latching this door properly, Mr. Wentworth," she said, her back to him, her fingers resting on the door handle. Finally she turned, her face flushed. "Forgive me for intruding, Mr. Wentworth, but I wanted to come introduce myself properly." She came forward to the bed and took the chair the doctor had occupied earlier, holding out her hand to Edward. "I am Jenny Tavington."
"Edward Wentworth, Miss Tavington, but I expect you knew that already. I am very pleased to meet you." Her hand was warm and soft, and he felt a desire to hold it longer than was necessary. He let go, however, and said, "I am sorry to have occasioned so much trouble to you and your father; I understand I am to have the pleasure of meeting him later today."
Jenny sat very straight in the chair next to the bed, her hands folded in her lap. She felt as though she could still feel the pressure of Mr. Wentworth's grasp round her fingers. "Yes, my father is very anxious to meet you. I have told him he must not stay long, for Mr. Crawley has told us we must not tire you."
"I appreciate your care and concern, Miss Tavington. Mr. Crawley assures me I could not have fallen into better hands. Let me apologize for all the trouble I have caused you."
"No!" Jenny jumped at her own tone. "Excuse me, I did not mean to sound abrupt. But truly, you have not been any trouble at all. This room was to be yours anyway, so it was all in readiness for you. And we were so frightened for you when you came that night, we were worried you would be ill for quite some time." She colored slightly. "I am, that is, we both, my father and I, are glad to see you recovering so quickly."
"Thank you, Miss Tavington, as am I. I must have made quite a picture, arriving on your doorstep in the middle of a storm, then promptly collapsing." He smiled at her, as he could not help doing, and was rewarded by the beginning of a smile from Jenny. As if realizing she was doing so, she looked quickly down again at her hands.
"We were concerned for your welfare, as you were already so far past the time you should have arrived." She flushed again, remembering how she had condemned him as unfit before he had even arrived. "Is there anything I can get for you, Mr. Wentworth? Or shall I leave you to rest?"
"I hope I would not be imposing on you if I asked, have you anything to read? I cannot say how large a home you have, but if your father is anything like his friend Mr. Grimes, I venture to say you have a good library?" Edward looked into her eyes for a moment, and saw there, he thought, a flicker of interest.
"My father, indeed, has an excellent library. What shall I bring you?" She paused a moment while she watched Edward thinking, then said quietly, "I had thought of bringing you something to read, indeed I thought," a pause, "I thought of reading aloud to you." Edward turned his head to her sharply, a swirling sensation rewarding him, but he was in time to see her wring her hands once, and to see a blush cover her face. "I read aloud to you while you were unconscious, you see, and I thought perhaps it may have soothed you." It was said shyly, directed toward her knees rather than at him.
"You read to me?"
"Yes," she stammered.
"How very kind of you. You have a lovely voice, Miss Tavington. I cannot believe it to have been anything but soothing. If you would be so kind again, would you sit and read to me? I was thinking that I may not have the strength yet to hold a book, or to read for long. Would you mind very much? Would I be taking you away from your other duties?"
"Oh, no, Mr. Wentworth, it would be my pleasure to read to you. I have the good fortune to be able to arrange my schedule to please myself. But what should you like me to read to you? Theology, philosophy?" She gained enough courage to look at him again, and even to meet his eyes for a short moment. He was smiling at her.
"Fiction, I think, Miss Tavington." He saw she was surprised, and wondered what Mr. Grimes had written about him to Mr. Tavington, and what in turn Mr. Tavington had told his daughter. There was a gleam in his tired eyes, but he said in a serious tone, "I am a faithful man, Miss Tavington, I try to do honor to my profession because I see it as a calling. But I am also a man who likes amusement. I cannot have grown up in a family of sailors without a sense of humor. I am not against dancing or music or novels. I believe all gifts from God have their place." He paused, watching Jenny fiddle with the cuff on her dress, a secret smile on her face. "Pardon me, Miss Tavington, I do not mean to lecture, but I wanted you to know my views. I hope it will not lower me in your father's eyes to know these things about the man he has deigned to become a patron to?"
Jenny fiddled on, her sleeve becoming wrinkled in her absentminded activity. "Oh, no, Mr. Wentworth, I am sure it shall not. I shall not try to answer for my father, you will meet him soon enough yourself. But I am sure that if you were a very staid type of parson, with eyes only for the theological, he would have been quite irritated. He dislikes obsequiousness."
Edward sighed and pushed himself father under the coverlet. "Thank you, Miss Tavington, you have made me quite easy. I shall trust you to select whatever you wish to read and be satisfied." He felt his eyes growing heavy.
"Oh, pardon me, sir, I am sure I have been here much longer than I ever intended." She got up, straightened her skirt and said, "I will leave you to rest, and come back later." She turned when she reached the door and smiled shyly at him. "Sleep well, Mr. Wentworth."
She barely heard his sleepy reply, "Thank you Miss Tavington."
Part 22
After leaving Edward's room, Jenny escaped to her own for a few moments of solitude and quiet. She sat in her chair by the window, her hand on the sill and consciously breathed deeply and slowly. He was even more handsome when he was awake, she thought. His eyes were a strange mix of green and brown, and she liked the lines that appeared around them when he smiled. It made it seem as thought he smiled quite often.
Jenny thought back again to all the conclusions she had jumped to before Mr. Wentworth had come. She had worried he wouldn't be serious enough, then she had worried he would be too serious. But he had said he did not disapprove of dancing or music or novels. And those lines around his eyes, she thought again. Those must show something about his character. Frown lines would have disturbed her, but she could detect nothing of those, and heaven knew she had looked quite carefully while he slept.
She felt her face flush as she recalled feeling his eyes on her when he woke. She had escaped out of his room as quickly as she could, feeling as though somehow he knew how often she had stared at his features in their uneasy repose. She had felt ashamed of her own childish behavior.
Now, she thought, what can I read to him? She had been reading King Lear herself, but dismissed it as too sorrowful for someone convalescing. Much Ado About Nothing? She flushed. No, she could not read to him about weddings and love. Her ruminations brought her to the library, where she knew her father would not be at this time of day.
Part 23 <
Edward slept deeply, and when he woke, he felt more like himself. He stretched his legs and arms out, then pulled the coverlet closer around him. Miss Tavington was quite lovely, he thought. And obviously very kind. But he had seen something, he thought, in her eyes when they had talked about the night he came. She had seemed embarrassed. Of him? Or of herself? Then there was the discussion about what she should read to him. Had she thought he was an earnest young parson who only read books of improvement or sermons? He had sensed her relief when he had asked about fiction. He smiled in remembrance, and pictured to himself the blush it had brought to her cheeks. She was quite enchanting.
When next he saw Jenny, Edward noticed a slim volume in her elegant hand. He smiled up at her, as he could never help doing, and said, "My friend Mr. Grimes told me your father has an excellent library. I hope I may soon have a glimpse of it?"
"I am sure you shall, in a day or so." Seeing his eye upon the book she held, Jenny brought the volume forward, holding it out to him for his inspection. Edward was eager to see what this curious young lady had chosen to read to him. He held the beautiful volume in his hands and slowly opened the cover, reveling in the smell of the leather. Turning the pages, he saw the title printed in an elegant script. "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight," he read aloud. He turned to look at Jenny, who had shyly taken the chair next to the bed. "What an extraordinary choice, Miss Tavington! I commend you!"
"Indeed, Mr. Wentworth? You do not disapprove? I had thought to read you Shakespeare, but I've been reading King Lear, and did not think it the most uplifting thing to read to someone recovering from an illness." Jenny's hands were clenched in her lap, but her eyes were alert and eager. She watched Edward closely.
"This is an admirable choice, Miss Tavington. It has been some time since I have read it myself. I shall enjoy hearing you read it out." He paused for a moment to smile gently at her. "And you are right about King Lear." He handed the book back to her. "Shall we start tomorrow?"
"Yes, Mr. Wentworth, and thank you." She held the book, still warm from Edward's hand, and ran her long fingers across the cover absently. It was only a moment, then she seemed to recall herself, and said, "I came only for your approval of our reading matter. I must go now and fetch my father." She stood and went quickly to the chamber door as if frightened to stay any longer.
"Edward's voice called to her, "Thank you, Miss Tavington, for everything." She turned for a moment to gaze at him. "You are very welcome, sir." She mumbled a quick goodnight, and quickly left the room.
Part 24
As Edward leaned forward to rearrange his pillows and straighten his attire in preparation to meet his new patron, he thought of the color in Miss Tavington's sweetly curved cheek, the elegance in her long, graceful fingers, curved gently round the book. He then firmly pushed her image out of his mind and focused on the meeting ahead. He was deeply conscious of his debt to Josiah Tavington, both for his new position and for the care and attention he had been receiving since he came to Tavington House.
Almost before these thoughts had filtered through his mind, there was a rap at the door, and a maid opened it to reveal a man of middle years, tall, his brown hair only beginning to turn gray. As he came into the room, Edward took in his sturdy but gentlemanly attire, the lines around his eyes belying his stern expression. The door was closed behind him and they were left alone.
Tavington came to stand beside the bed, his hand outstretched. "Mr. Wentworth, it is a pleasure to finally meet you." Edward pulled himself up as much as he could and replied, "No, indeed, Mr. Tavington, the pleasure is all mine. I am indebted, sir. Your kindness and hospitality to a perfect stranger÷" Tavington gestured negatively and sat down in the chair his daughter had vacated. "What a picture I must have made, sir, collapsing like a vagabond on your doorstep!"
"I will admit, Mr. Wentworth, that the unusual circumstances surrounding your arrival left my butler a bit befuddled for a moment, but that was rather a pleasure than an inconvenience." He paused, as if repeating to himself what he had said, then went on to explain, "You will excuse me, I did not mean that any pleasure was to be had from your apparent illness, but rather the consternation of my butler was. He is not a man to be easily ruffled." The voice was slow, the choice of words methodical, but Edward saw a twitch in the corner of his patron's mouth. " I am glad, then to have been of some service to you, sir, even in my weakened state." Tavington chuckled then, looked Edward in the eyes, and smiled a crooked grin.
"Mr. Wentworth, I believe that my friend Grimes has been proved right as usual."
"Sir?"
"Let me say, I am not in the habit of accepting men for positions without meeting them first myself, especially giving a living and the care of my tenants moral character, as my daughter would have it, to a man I have never seen. Our mutual friend Grimes, however, is an excellent judge of character and temperament. He has yet to be proven wrong, and has been singing your praises these long months. It is his conviction which enticed me to hand over these responsibilities to you."
"I thank you, sir, and I thank Mr. Grimes for his faith in me. I hope I may live up to your expectations, Mr. Tavington," Edward paused, then finished, "and his."
There was a companionable pause while the two men each thought of their mutual friend, then Edward broke it by asking, "May I ask, sir, for more details about the parish. I understand my predecessor is still in the area?"
"Indeed, he is attempting to pack away two decades of accumulation. But I have been strictly charged by my daughter, Mr. Wentworth, not to tire you. We have plenty of time to discuss the parish. I will leave you to rest and come back again tomorrow." Tavington stood and shook Edward's hand.
"Miss Tavington has been most gracious, sir."
"Jenny likes nothing better than to have someone to take care of." Again Edward saw the twitch at the corner of Tavington's mouth. He took a gamble, saying, "Has my coming deflected these attentions from yourself, sir?"
Edward was rewarded by a hearty laugh, and Tavington came forward to shake Edward's hand again. "It has indeed, Mr. Wentworth, and glad I am of it! I can see that Mr. Grimes was truly right about you. I believe you will make an interesting addition to our small family party." He then took his leave, again promising to come on the morrow.
Part 25
The day dawned bright, and for the first time Edward was able to sit up in bed without his head spinning. Betsy brought him a hearty breakfast, and then he slept away a portion of the morning. He woke feeling more rested and began to look forward to Miss Tavington's arrival. Jenny did not disappoint him. She came in, her eyes bright, the deep green of her dress making them shine.
"And how are you feeling, Mr. Wentworth?"
"A great deal better, Miss Tavington, I thank you. Betsy brought me a lovely breakfast, so I am filled to bursting." Jenny smiled back at him and said, "Then shall I begin?"
Jenny sat, not in the chair directly next to the bed, but in the more comfortable rocker near the window. She arranged herself comfortably, opened the volume, and began,
"After the siege and assault had ceased at Troy,
And the city was blasted and burned to brands and ashes,
The Traitor who there devised the treasonous stratagems
Won hatred for his treachery and deep betrayal."
For an hour, Jenny's melodious voice swept over him. The dips and sways of the poetry and the timbre of Jenny's voice were like a balm on Edward's soul. He felt more content that he had in months. He was surprised when Jenny's voice finally stopped and she gently closed the book. Edward opened his eyes and looked at her. "Why have you stopped? You read that so beautifully."
"Thank you, sir, but our time is up for today. I have promised myself that I would not tire you. You seem so much better today, but I do not want you to overexert." She smiled shyly at him. "You rest now, and I shall come to see you later." She was gone before Edward had a chance to object. He lay on his back, gazing at the ceiling, his ears still full of her voice with its soft cadences. Eventually he slept, dreaming of Jenny. She was in a field, with a wreath of flowers in her hair. When he woke again, he felt rested and alive.
Part 26
Mr. Tavington came again in the evening, and the two men spent a companionable hour together discussing the local affairs. Edward liked Tavington even better at this second meeting, and felt at ease with him immediately. When Tavington left, Edward enjoyed a few moments of thankful prayer, then made a decision. He would try to get up and move around some. He pulled the bedclothes back and slowly swung his feet down to the floor. Beneath them he found a well-worn but comfortable pair of slippers. It made him smile, thinking Miss Tavington must have placed them there. Her father's cast-offs, no doubt, as he thought the night shirt he wore must be. He slipped them on his feet and wrapped a light blanket around him. Carefully standing, he took a tentative step, then another. He walked hestitatingly to the fireplace, rested there for a moment with his hand on the mantle, then went slowly back to the bed. He replaced the slippers exactly where he had found them and lay back down in the soft bed, pulling the bedclothes up to his chin. Closing his eyes, he smiled to himself and thought, Tomorrow, Miss Tavington shall have a surprise.
Jenny was pleased with the first reading she had done while the patient was actually awake. Mr. Wentworth had liked her choice of a book and had seemed pleased with her manner of reading. She was glad of it. She enjoyed reading aloud, but as Papa enjoyed reading himself, she did not often have anyone to whom she could read. She had been busy the rest of the day with household matters and had spent a leisurely evening in the drawing room alone while her father visited Mr. Wentworth. She had been busy today as well, but had arranged her day so that she could read to Mr. Wentworth at the same time today as she had the day before. She was smiling with anticipation when she knocked on Edward's door, but her smile grew even wider when her eyes fell on him.
He was sitting up in the rocker, which had been moved from near the window to near the fire, his whole body warmly wrapped in a heavy quilt. His eyes were bright and a large grin overspread his face. "Are you surprised?"
"Indeed I am, Mr. Wentworth!" Jenny cried. Edward grinned even wider. "How came you to be sitting up like this!"
"I was feeling so well this morning that I knew I must get up. Betsy moved the chair and helped me wrap up in the quilt." He smiled up at her.
"Well, it is a most welcome surprise, Mr. Wentworth. Shall I bring the other chair over? Or would you rather I did not read to you today?"
"No, please, you must read. I so enjoyed our time yesterday. It quite took my mind off my illness."
Jenny brought the other chair from beside the bed, arranged herself in it and began to read. She was nervous today, for some reason. She felt his eyes upon her, but was not sure if it was in admiration or scrutiny. When it came time to stop, Jenny closed the book carefully, but kept her eyes down. The ease and confidence with which she had entered the room seemed to have left her, and she knew not where to look. There was a long pause.
"That was excellent, Miss Tavington. I thank you." Edward spoke quietly, wondering at Jenny's reticence.
"You are very welcome, sir." Jenny's voice was almost a whisper. Whatever is wrong with me, she thought. Why am I tongue-tied? When she finally looked up, his eyes were on her, just as she feared, and to cover her uneasiness, she quickly stood. "Thank you for this reprieve, Mr. Wentworth. I do so enjoy reading aloud, and have so few opportunities of doing so. Shall I leave the book with you?" she asked, holding it out to him, barely meeting his eyes.
"No, thank you. If you are not too busy, would you come again tomorrow?"
"I shall look forward to it, sir." She met his eyes briefly and gave the merest smile. "I should return downstairs. I have been helping my father with something in the library." It was said almost apologetically.
"Of course. I am grateful for you time."
Jenny bade him good day and turned quickly away. She smiled briefly at him again as she closed the door, then leaned against the wall in the hall outside his room. Whatever is wrong with me, she thought.
Edward was left to ponder what he had done wrong. He knew he had disconcerted her, but he was not sure how. Perhaps he had been staring. He could not help himself, really. He had admired her from the moment he laid eyes on her, and being in close proximity to her during the last days had proved a delightful kind of torture. He could not keep his eyes off her. He loved the way her eyes flashed, the way she smiled as she read, he admired the graceful way her long, slender fingers held the book in her hand or fingered her skirt absentmindedly. He felt a kind of emptiness now that she had gone.
Edward pulled his thoughts up short. To what were these thoughts tending? The sudden revelation struck him. He was falling in love with Jenny Tavington. "Indeed, how could I stop myself," he thought. But surely a woman of Miss Tavington's stature could not lower herself to marry a clergyman. He smiled, realizing that a few weeks ago he had been reasoning in just the opposite way in Frederick and Miss Elliot's case. He had no idea of Miss Tavington's feelings, nor anything about her beyond what he had seen in this room. He would be well enough to go down to dinner soon, and should watch Miss Tavington and learn more about her.
Part 27
The opportunity to observe Miss Tavington in her normal surroundings came more quickly than he could have hoped. On the morrow, Edward was feeling well enough to dress, with the patient assistance of Mr. Tavington's valet, and to sit with Mr. Tavington in his study becoming more acquainted with parish affairs. That night, he was able to dine with the Tavingtons.
Edward's suspicions on the grandeur of Tavington House were confirmed on this visit to Tavington's study. The rooms were vast, but had a comfortable feel to them. There were no lavish decorations here, however. Each room bore the marks of a home much loved, of items chosen for the feelings and memories they evoked. He felt welcome in this house, and comfortable. He passed a companionable morning with his benefactor and after luncheon was finally granted a peek at Tavington's library, with Miss Tavington as his guide.
It was a beautiful room, book-lined walls, two large tables and several inviting chairs. Jenny watched quietly while Edward moved slowly around the room examining the titles, his fingers lingering on old favorites. She watched him revel in the vast collection of the written word. His eyes were bright, his face no longer pale with illness. He would be here in Tavington House only a few weeks more, and then he would move to his own home, to Colby House. She watched him for a few minutes more, then stared at the toes of her shoes. If she were honest with herself, she would admit his recovery was difficult for her. Oh, she was relieved he was better, but it meant she could no longer care for him the way she had. She liked being needed and being able to help people. Caring for Mr. Wentworth had been a special kind of experience.
A noise interrupted her thoughts and she relinquished the study of her toes to see Mr. Wentworth turning the pages of a large atlas which lay on the library table. He was smiling. He turned to her and said, "My father had an atlas much like this one, Miss Tavington. He used to show us all the places he had been, all over the world." He turned back to the maps, his smile turning wistful.
"Your father was a traveler, then, Mr. Wentworth?" She came slowly forward to stand beside him and watch him carefully turned the leaves of the great book.
"He was a sailor, Miss Tavington. Like my brother, and my sister's husband."
"You have a brother and a sister, then. How I should have liked a brother or sister." She paused for a moment, then said, "And you became a clergyman. Quite different from the rest of your family."
"Intentionally so, I assure you, Miss Tavington. I have no fear of the sea, but I have no passion for it either. Life at sea is a calling, I believe, and it just happened that my calling is quite different from that of the rest of my family. Even Sophy has that calling, and she was able to fulfill her wishes by marriage to the Admiral. She goes most everywhere with him, you see. But I always felt myself different from the rest of my family, and was glad that my path lay elsewhere." He was staring ahead now, his eyes distant, as if seeing those days past when he had made the first choices that helped form his present life. "I have always had a passion for books, literature, philosophy, almost anything I could get my hands on." He glanced round the room, then gazed down at Jenny. "I must admit being envious of your father's excellent library, Miss Tavington. I could easily spend many comfortable hours here."
"And so you must do whilst you are with us, Mr. Wentworth. You must call this your home until Colby House is ready." She recalled again what it was that had made her melancholy this morning and turned from his warm gaze. "There is a small room at Colby House which you could use for your library. Indeed, there are some books that go with the house as well. They were my mother's and her father's before her." She walked to the window, where the raindrops slid slowly down the pane, and gazed over the sloping lawn in the direction of Basingly where Colby House lay. She shook her brooding thoughts off and turned back to Edward. He was watching her closely, his dark eyes serious. "I shall leave you here, then, Mr. Wentworth. I have a few household matters to attend to. Pray, make yourself at home here. Shall I read to you and Papa in the drawing room after dinner?" This last was ventured with a glance at her toes, which did not go unnoticed by Edward.
"That would be excellent, Miss Tavington." He watched her go, seeing her graceful, yet purposeful stride. When she had closed the door behind her, he turned back to the room and turned a slow circle to take it all in again. It was indeed a lovely room. He closed his eyes, leaning against the table, and breathed in the smell of leather. As he did so, he had a sudden image of the day he had packed his books and found one of Frederick's amongst his own, the drawing of Anne Elliot tucked inside. Poor Frederick, how dismal life must seem to you now without her, he thought.
Part 28
Dinner was a quiet affair, a gentle murmur of contented conversation passed between the three, and the two men did not wait long to join Jenny in the drawing room. She was fingering the pianoforte, but stopped when they entered. Edward sank gratefully down onto a sofa.
"You're looking tired, Mr. Wentworth," Tavington said quietly.
"Indeed, I am, Mr. Tavington." He looked at Jenny and asked, "Will you forgive me if I ask you to postpone our reading until tomorrow, Miss Tavington?"
"But of course, Mr. Wentworth! You must go and rest now. We must not have you relapsing."
"Thank you. I believe I shall retire." He stood to go, saying, "I thank you both for an excellent day. I shall see you in the morning, and all the better for my rest, I hope." He bade them goodnight.
Left behind, Jenny could not settle to any activity, alternately fingering the instrument and gazing moodily out the window.
"Jenny-love."
"Yes, Papa?"
"You must not brood, my dear."
"No, Papa."
"He does not need a nurse any longer, Jenny-love, but you can still be his friend. I think perhaps he may need one as much as you do, pet."
"Me, Papa!"
"Yes, you. You have been rattling around this house with only me for company for far too long. Having someone your own age, with whom you can share intelligent conversation will be good for you."
"Yes, Papa." Her toes were now all absorbing.
"But Jenny."
"Yes, Papa?"
"You must be yourself, not this worrisome toe-watching child." She started, and looked up at him in surprise. "Be yourself," he continued, "and all the rest will take care of itself."
"Yes, Papa." Her eyes looked into his, and he gave a brief nod, then went back to his paper
Part 29
As the days passed, Edward felt himself becoming perhaps too comfortable at Tavington House. The library was a delight to him, the easy companionship of Josiah Tavington a blessing. Of even greater delight was the near constant presence of Jenny. Each day she seemed to grow less wary of him, more at ease. She smiled more, though still shyly, and her toes seemed to hold less and less to interest her. She seemed to learn his moods, and he hers, and his time in the library was never interrupted without good cause. The drawing room was filled with conversation each evening, the two of them under Josiah's amused eye, talking enough to supply the lack of a large family party. Sir Gawain had been long finished, and other books and poetry embarked upon.
Edward knew the time was coming when he would remove to his own house, and began to think it could not come too quickly. Jenny was coming to mean a great deal to him, and he thought that time in his own home without her would be good for him. Surely a man like Josiah Tavington would not allow his daughter to waste herself on a country vicar, and Edward knew Jenny would be well provided for.
Sometimes when he gazed at her, while she played for them, he thought he could see her with him thus every evening for the rest of his life. Other times, he would ride into Basingly to spend time with his predecessor, bringing parish records into order, and would see the hardship marrying him would be for her. She had grown up in affluence, and marrying the vicar would be a step down for her. No, she deserved so much more than Edward could offer.
As his time at Tavington House grew short, Edward tried first to avoid Jenny's company. When he found how much he missed her, he thought the better of this, and began to seek as much of her company as he could, as a sort of storing up for when he would not see her as often. Finally the day before his departure came.
"And so you are to leave us on the morrow, Mr. Wentworth. We shall be very quiet here without you." Josiah Tavington tried to sound casual, but he had become so accustomed to Edward's presence that he thought he would miss the young man almost as much as his daughter would.
"Yes, sir. The time has flown so quickly, and so pleasantly. I do not know how to thank both you and Miss Tavington. I am sure no one could have been made to feel more at home." He glanced at Jenny as he said this, but saw that she was very absorbed with her needlework.
"Well, young man, we shall hope to have you here to dine each Sunday." Josiah unfolded his paper, as if he already considered this matter as settled. He stole a glance at his daughter, and hoped that Wentworth could see the emotion he saw in her face himself. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright. She would be much affected by this parting, however often the prospect of her meeting Mr. Wentworth in the future. There was no intimacy comparable to living in the same house.
Edward was watching Jenny closely, and he did indeed see the emotion in her countenance, but he was not sure what kind it was. The rest of the evening passed off quietly, Edward retired early to finish his packing. His thanks for all Miss Tavington's assistance in the last preparations for his departure were mildly rebuked, and he went to his room in a state of uncertainty.
**********'
Continued in Part 3
© 1998 Copyright held by author