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From Daniel’s position on the bed, he could almost see the budding of trees. If he inched a little to his right—
There. He smiled with satisfaction. Springtime had certainly arrived, if those blossoms were to be believed. He fought the desire to sigh and wish he had never set foot in Mannering. The past couldn’t be changed by regret. Better to focus on what he could be thankful for.
He was still healthy, mending leg notwithstanding.
He was extremely grateful for such accommodations, which seemed the height of luxury to him, especially compared with what he’d been used to in recent years.
He was thankful that this enforced rest did give him time to get to know his niece a little more, and time to consider other things too. Was a return to war the only path that lay ahead? He’d prayed and asked God for direction, and even dared to ask Him to show if a different path might be in his future. His morning’s Bible reading in Proverbs drifted back to memory.A man’s heart deviseth his way: but the Lord directeth his steps.
A man might have plans for his life, but trusting God meant trusting Him with the future, whatever that might hold. Daniel’s heart flickered. He tamped it down. Not that he could afford to get carried away and contemplate anything to do with the gentler sex. Between his pay and what little rent the house in Wiltshire brought in, he might have a degree of income but could provide little for someone accustomed to Stapleton Court.
He blinked. Shook his head at himself. Really, the sooner he mended and left, the sooner these strange musings might end.
A knock drew his attention to Mr. Siddons, who held out a paper. “The post has come, sir.”
“Thank you.”
He accepted the letter and slit the seal. Apart from updates from the builders, wondering whether he’d be fortunate to receive mail was his chief source of entertainment these days, and great was the day when a letter found its way to him.
James Langley’s epistle had arrived yesterday, and in it he’d reiterated his wife’s invitation to return to Langley House, should Daniel require a stop on his return to London. The generosity and kindness he’d experienced on his brief visit north only showed the depths of God’s grace in transforming a heart once so black. James Langley was blessed with a capable and pretty wife, a sizeable home, and what looked to be restoration in his family. But such did not mean similar blessings lay in store for all.
Daniel chewed his lip. Was it faithless to believe so? Or mere pragmatics? The simple fact was that some men did not marry, either from lack of opportunity or inclination. But did that mean he should forever count himself as one of them? What if God had a future Daniel had not envisaged, a path yet untrodden for the future?
Uncertainty gripped him, and he unfolded the page and studied the writing, lips pursing as he read the words.
Dear Sir,
Thank you for your recent letter. I am glad to inform you that my circumstances continue to improve. I have indeed found a most excellent wife, who I am half-persuaded believes she has found a measure of happiness too. I don’t doubt that she will add in her own thoughts on the matter, but let me assure you that he who finds a wife finds a good thing.
My Mary is increasing, which has brought my father and mother much joy. Mary herself keeps well and assures me she is eager to meet you at your earliest convenience—which does not seem like it will be soon. But when you are mended, please know you are assured of a bed here in Ambleton, where you can see with your own eyes just how things are.
Gilroy and Conwell continue to thrive. It seems hard to believe that they were not born to farm life, but then, I never expected to take to it as well as I have either. I trust you will give some consideration to what lies in your future, and recall that though we plot our course, sometimes our Lord has other things in mind, which may well prove to be of far greater value.
Daniel paused, rubbed his eyes. Reread the last line, heart tensing. Did God have other things in mind for him? He resumed reading.
I never expected to be able to say I am content, especially with matters developing as they did, but I can now assure you that is truly the case. Our Lord has good plans for us, of that we can be certain.
Please visit when you can. I long for you to meet my dear sweet wife.
Yours etc.,
Adam Edgerton
In a postscript, the same hand had written:
Dear Captain
I trust you will heed what my dear husband has said. He is most eager for your visit and to show the great leaps he has made in his recovery. Please know you are indeed most welcome,
Mary Edgerton
He tapped the paper thoughtfully. Two recent letters from friends—from James and the Edgertons—both of similar subjects and tone. Perhaps when he had mended enough to journey, he could visit one or the other of them. Oneorthe other, as they lived on opposite sides—one in Cumbria, one beside the North Sea.
How he’d like to see Adam Edgerton, though the man might never see him again. How marvelous was his progress to normality, that his future seemed secured, despite his most devastating of affliction of blindness. God was good indeed.
But their words also contained a subtle challenge he was hesitant to take. Just because his friends had both found happiness and secured wives did not mean such was the path for all.
It couldn’t.
