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“Family relations have been on the cool side these past few days,” Lucas added.
“What you are trying to tell me,” Ben said, “is that your idyllic home lives will only return to normal if I accept your apology, which I have done already, and present myself as a guest at your family luncheon tomorrow.”
“Our very marriages may depend on it,” Lucas said morosely.
Ben couldn’t help it; he huffed out a laugh. “I believe, Mr. Jennings, that your marriage to an actress has been rubbing off on you. Very well; I accept your invitation, and I dearly hope it mends any rifts that may have occurred between you and your wives.” He turned serious again. “However, allow me to be clear regarding your original concerns: I shall strive to maintain a respectable distance from your sister, as I have no intention of misleading her into thinking I am looking to marry anytime soon.”
The brothers nodded. “We shall see you tomorrow, then,” Thomas said.
As there seemed to be nothing more to add to the present conversation, the Jennings brothers offered their farewells and left.
Ben remained in the parlor for a long while after their departure, remembering the weight of Rebecca in his arms and firmly telling himself that distancing himself from her while he was still in such a bruised state was all for the best.
* * *
Ben intentionally arrived late for church services at St. Alfred’s in Lower Alderwood on Sunday morning. He did not wish to greet the vicar or be introduced to every person in attendance. It was undoubtedly the poorest of manners for him to behave thusly, but he didn’t care. His solitude and freedom were being taken from him a piece at a time. Yesterday, when he’d made the decision to attend services, he’d just returned from his visits with his tenants and his mood had lifted. After his visit with the Jennings brothers, however, despite it being a cordial meeting, Ben’s mood had worsened significantly.
He slipped into the last pew not long after the vicar had apparently called the service to order. Sitting on the last pew gave him the opportunity to see who was there. It also offered the means of leaving before the end of the service, once again without having to socialize with the citizens of Lower Alderwood.
He sat quietly when the vicar cleared his throat. “Today we read from Psalms chapter six: ‘Have mercy upon me, O Lord; for I am weak: O Lord, heal me; for my bones are vexed. My soul is also sore vexed: but thou, O Lord, how long?’”
Ben was undoubtedly in need of the topic of today’s scripture and sermon, but he wasn’t interested in actually listening to them. Sometimes, one simply did what one was supposed to do out of responsibility and not from any desire to do it.
“‘I am weary with my groaning; all the night make I my bed to swim; I water my couch with my tears,’” the vicar droned on.
Ben glanced around St. Alfred’s, trying to distract himself from words that stung and burned him, and almost immediately, he spied the Jennings family. Of course he did.
The family took up all of the available space on two pews at the front, to the left side of the nave, which meant Ben could see them in profile, for the most part. Thomas and his wife, Isobel, Lucas and Lavinia, Arthur Drake and Delia Weston, and Hannah Broome—and several children, more than Ben had seen during his calls upon Rebecca. There was another lady with them, staring adoringly at the vicar, and Ben suddenly realized that the gentleman concluding his recitation of Psalms looked enough like the other Jennings siblings to leave little doubt that he was another brother. That would also explain the additional children.
Good heavens, the Jennings brothers seemed to crop up everywhere.
Rebecca, Ben noticed, had not attended church services today, and the idea that she was at home alone sat uncomfortably within him—and brought forth unpleasant memories.
“I’m sure the townspeople would love to become better acquainted with the new Countess of Winton,” Ben said with gentle encouragement. “I dislike you staying all alone at home by yourself.”
Gemma, reclining on the chaise longue in her private suite of rooms and staring out the window, glanced his way for only the briefest moment. “But they are dreary, Winton. The church itself is a dreary little thing, and the vicar is a dreary old codger who smells and wears vestments that are worn thin, who gives dreary sermons that bore me to death. There is nothing there that appeals to me at all.”
The Reverend Tewksbury was much as Gemma described, but in all fairness, any funds Ben had offered him for the church upkeep and for the vicar to acquire new vestments, the man had turned around and used to help the poor of his parish. Not that Ben had neglected the poor of the parish, either, but it seemed the vicar was intent on living a rather ascetic life. “But you’ve only attended church services twice since you’ve arrived in Hampshire. Perhaps things will appear more to your liking this time, especially if you are congenial with the townspeople.”
“I highly doubt it. Not today, at any rate, Winton. I’d rather stay here by myself. I long for my friends back in London.”
The vicar, the Reverend Somebody or Other Jennings, suddenly pounded on the pulpit, snapping Ben out of his thoughts. “And so, it behooves us all toface our enemies, whatever they might be, and call them to repentance,” he boomed. “‘The Lord hath heard my supplication; the Lord will receive my prayer. Let all mine enemies be ashamed and sore vexed: let them return and be ashamed suddenly.’” He paused a moment and took a breath. “Amen.”
Ben decidedthatwas his cue to leave.
He slipped out of the pew as quietly as possible, although a few people sitting nearby turned and looked at him. He left St. Alfred’s, careful to shut the large, creaking door so it made as little noise as possible, and then went to retrieve his horse and phaeton.
As he rode home, Ben reflected on the strange wording the vicar had used at the end of his sermon, right after pounding on the pulpit. “Face our enemies, whatever they might be,” he’d said. The wordwhateverhad caught Ben by surprise. He’d always considered people to be enemies, butwhateverencompassed a great deal more than that.
There were people against whom Ben held a great deal of anger and animosity. There were situations that had caused him a world of pain and, unless he found an answer, would sorely vex him his entire life.
It was easy to stand at a pulpit and preach such things, Ben thought with anger, but it was nearly impossible in some situations to truly confront one’s enemies and call them to repentance. Ben knew this for a fact. Additionally, how did one deal with an “enemy” that was not a person? How did one confront an idea or a circumstance?
How could Ben possibly know the Lord had heard his supplication and received his prayers, as the Psalmist and the Reverend Jennings had proclaimed? Ben had prayed often after his marriage to Gemma—that is, until Gemma’s death. He hadn’t prayed since then. There had seemed to be no point.
And sermon notwithstanding, Ben wasn’t convinced he would be praying anytime soon.
* * *
