Page 27 of Discovering Grace

“The work of packing up an old man’s things is not nearly as important as seeing to the hungry and weary in our congregation, Mr. Barnes.” The vicar had perhaps been taller than Jacob’s height, a couple of decades ago, but stooped as he was now, he had to peer upward into the younger man’s eyes. “This lady needs your assistance more than I do, at least at present.”

Jacob’s green eyes met hers, the color darkening as he stared at her. “Of course, Mr. Spratt. If Miss Everly has no objections.”

What could she say to that? Although his reluctance to be near her made her tender feelings for him more bruised, Grace laced her words with cheer. “I would be most grateful for your company, Mr. Barnes.”

“Excellent. You young people go on about the Lord’s business.” He nudged Jacob out the door. “Report back when you are finished with the visits.” Then the vicar snapped the door shut, almost as though he could not wait to be rid of them.

Jacob glared at the door as though offended by it, then he turned toward Grace. She stiffened, prepared to receive a cool glare or disapproving frown. She did not give him the chance to speak, stumbling over her words in her haste to bring peace between them.

“I am sorry I did not bid you farewell properly when we rode yesterday,” she said. “I know we did not finish our discussion. There is no excuse for my behavior. I—”

His hand closed around her upper arm, his grasp warm and firm. “Grace.” He said her name quietly, nearly in a whisper. “It is not necessary to apologize. I know I caused offense with my words about your sister. I owe you the apology.”

Grace pulled away, taking a step back from him and his distracting touch. Could she not be offended for her own sake? Must every conversation be about Hope?

“You do not owe me any such thing.” She spoke stiffly. “I have already forgotten everything you said.” Yet another lie she must tell. “We ought to start on our errand, Jacob.”

His brow wrinkled. “It’s obvious you are put out with me, Grace. I wish to make amends. How shall it be done?”

“Must you be so difficult?” she asked, puffing out an exasperated breath before turning. The groom remained with his horse, too distant to hear their conversation but near enough for propriety’s sake.

Jacob made an amused sort of sound in the back of his throat. “Difficult? I am attempting to put our friendship back on even ground.”

Grace gestured to the cart. “Come along, then. Help me deliver these baskets.” She hurried to climb up, hoping he would not offer his assistance. But Jacob’s nature prohibited such an oversight, and he was there, holding her elbow as she stepped up onto the driver’s bench. Then he walked around the front of the pony, giving the shaggy little animal a thoughtful pat on the head, before swinging up beside her onto the narrow bench.

He sat too close for her immediate comfort. Grace’s cheeks warmed as she busied herself with the reins. They did not have far to go, but riding would see them to the Harpers’ little house by the sea faster than walking with baskets in arms.

For several minutes they traveled without speaking, Jacob’s elbow brushing against her forearm as she flicked the reins. He broke their tenuous silence first.

“Did you receive an invitation to dine with Isaac tomorrow evening?”

Speaking of another friend was a far safer topic than any she currently had on her mind. Grace snatched the subject up eagerly. “Yes, my father and I will both attend. Will your family be there?”

“Mother, Matthew, myself, Elizabeth, and Mary.” Jacob listed all his family at home and leaned back, raising his face and closing his eyes against the morning sun. “It will be a cramped ride in the carriage if Matthew does not wish to ride.”

“Why can you not ride?”

“The hunter belongs to Matthew,” he reminded her, raising one shoulder in a shrug. “It would be presumptuous of me to use him if Matthew chose not to. At the moment, I can ride him all I wish when I know Matthew is seeing to estate business or is out with the carriage visiting Mrs. Muir.”

Grace hoped the eldest Mr. Barnes would realize his brother needed a horse and offer one to him. Once Jacob became a vicar, his funds would not allow for too many expenditures, and he certainly did not think himself equal to affording a horse at present.

“I suppose that makes sense,” she admitted. “At least it is not a very far distance. I wonder if Isaac retained his French cook when he went to the Continent? I do not think I have ever heard.”

For a few minutes, they spoke of the staff at Fox Hall and how busy Isaac must have been when he returned, trying to see to everything at once. Their conversation turned to their other friend, Silas, and his bride.

“I do hope Esther is enjoying herself in London,” Grace said during a lull in their conversation. “She seemed eager to go, though I cannot imagine why.”

“Can you not?” Jacob opened one eye, tilting to one side the better to fix her with his incredulous stare. “I understand you not wishing to travel over the ocean, but have you no desire to tramp down London’s fine streets?”

“None at all,” she said airily. “The few times I have been to London I have not been impressed. The city is filthy, the streets crowded, the parties loud, and neighbors far too interested in gossip. I cannot understand the appeal of it.”

The Harpers’ cottage, which really was more like a stone hovel, came into view, skulking back into a hillside.

“I confess, I have no great desire to spend my time in London. But Oxford—I could have spent ten more years there and never had enough of that charming town.” Jacob climbed down from the cart and came around to lift her down, his hands going to her waist rather than reaching for her hand.

She hesitated before allowing him to assist in such a way. The more familiar manner, one she thought he must have perfected while helping his younger sisters in and out of wheeled conveyances, allowed her feet to land more lightly upon the ground than if he had taken her hand for her to hop from her seat. Her hands fell quite naturally to his arms, and she felt the strength in them as he lowered her to the ground.

“I think you would like Oxford,” Jacob said, staring down into her eyes, his hands still upon her waist. “It is a charming old town, and far less clamorous than London.”