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“Was it a bad scrape?”
“No, nothing at all to it, when all’s said and done. Did you find the cheese?”
“Good heavens, I quite forgot. Wait a moment.”
Armed with bread, cheese and toasting forks, they pulled a couple of chairs nearer to the fire, and toasted and ate and talked… how they talked! He told her about the few fish he had caught that day, still lying beside the hedge where he had thrown them to rescue her. She told him a great deal about Sagborough, and their house there.
“Do you miss it?” he said, when the toasting had dwindled to nothing.
“Sagborough? I miss the convenience of running out to a shop before breakfast, but I don’t miss the noise, the bustle, the smoke. What I miss most, I think, is the familiarity of everything. The church, and our pew. Meeting friends on the street. My favourite walks. Knowing where everything was, and what would happen, the predictability of life. Here, every day there’s some new surprise. Oh, I know we’ll get used to it eventually, but the Park is so big and grand and overwhelming. I like your house better, I think.”
“Do you?” That was an unexpectedly good sign. “I like it too, although sometimes it feels like temporary lodgings. I spend so much of my time at the Manor — I am there most evenings, and sometimes for breakfast, too. I should like to be more… established here. Get some permanent servants, set up my carriage, make some improvements to the house, dine at my own table once in a while with white linen and silver spoons and cut glass, instead of in the kitchen. Would you like to see my dining room?”
She said she would. He picked up the candelabrum, and led the way. It was perhaps the best room in the house, but it seemed drab to him, and unwelcoming. He tried to imagine the table with all the leaves added, its surface groaning with a multitude of dishes, but he could not.
“It is so antiquated,” he said, looking around the room with disfavour. “I really need to toss everything out and start from scratch. New furniture, new rugs and curtains, new silverware and plate — everything brand new.”
“Expensive!” she said, laughing. “And you an impoverished clergyman, too.”
“Not so impoverished as all that,” he said. “As rector, I take all the tithes, worth around fourteen hundred pounds a year. Father has the presentation of St Agnes, too, so whenever Mr Hasswell goes to his eternal rest, I shall have another four hundred a year. A very tidy income for a country parson.”
“More work for your curate, I suppose.”
That was a hit, indeed, rendering him silent. Yes, poor Thomas would have all the extra work of the second parish, but he planned to increase his salary. Perhaps it would be enough to enable him to marry. That would go some way to assuaging James’s guilt for the shameless way he neglected his duties and allowed Thomas to shoulder the entire burden.
“Are you going to refurbish the rest of the house, too, since you are so rich?” she said, with a mischievous grin. Lord, those lips! He had a sudden urge to sweep her into his arms and—
That would never do. What was the matter with him? That encounter with the bull had rattled his brain, he was sure, for he was not normally so addle-pated.
“Perhaps. Tell me what you think. This is the parlour. Across here is the parish room, but I leave that to Thomas. And this is the drawing room.”
“This is a pleasant room, with a view of the church, too. A clergyman should always be able to look out of his window at his own church, don’t you think? To remind him of his duties. Or his curate’s duties, in your case.”
“Do you disapprove?”
“Oh, it’s not for me to approve or disapprove, Mr Plummer. You must manage your life as seems good to you. If Mr Leadbetter is content with the arrangement and your parishioners too, who am I to cavil at it? But I think it’s sad that you have this fine house, and you seem to live in the kitchen… when you are even here. It’s not new furnishings you need, it’speoplewho make a house a home.”
“You are quite right,” he said. Then, throwing caution to the wind, he went on, “What I need is a wife and family.”
And because he could not resist her for a second longer, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her firmly on the lips.
For a moment, she froze. Then she pushed him sharply away.
“What did you do that for?” Not angry or shocked or distressed, just puzzled. A little indignant, perhaps.
“For the same reason I showed you the house and told you my income, so that you will be prepared.”
“Prepared? For what?”
“For when I offer for you. So that you will know how to answer.”
Her jaw dropped. She really had not had the least suspicion, despite all his attentions lately. “You’re mad,” she said. “Completely mad. I thought you were myfriend, James Plummer, and now you’ve gone and spoilt it. I’m going home.”
“I shall see you back to the Park.”
“No, you won’t! I’ve had quite enough of you for one day, thank you very much.”
And with that, she swept out of the room. He heard her struggling to open the heavy front door, and then it slammed shut and she was gone.
