The Parson's Pleasure Read online

  “It is an interesting place,” said Mr. Bennett, and in describing for her some of the things he had seen, he relaxed again. A note of enthusiasm entered his voice when he talked about the democracy there and what effect its success or failure would have on England.

  As Claire listened she felt carried away by the emotion she sensed behind Mr. Bennett's words. She felt the challenge he felt, and the eagerness to be part of it.

  During the debate that ensued, Claire enjoyed the increasingly friendly conversation that flowed between her parents and their guest. The rector's manner was open and trusting, and the only time that Claire sensed any withdrawal on his part was when reference was made to his cousin or his experience in the military, or to Lord Sitchville and his present position. He seemed to avoid those topics, and when they were mentioned, his countenance became restrained, and she had the impression again of there being some care or disappointment in his past.

  When it was time for the ladies to leave the table, her father sent them off with a promise not to be too long in joining them.

  Lady Sally could barely wait to enter the parlour before exclaiming, “My love, it is settled! He is simply too good for Lydia. We must find someone else for him. His manner is charming and he is quite handsome. I am surprised that so large a man has such fine features, though certainly his jaw and his brow are quite strong. I declare, I should fall in love with him myself, except that it is not the fashion now. And, after all, he is a clergyman. What a pity that such a splendid young man should be without rank or fortune. With a respectable fortune I should consider him worthy of any female of our acquaintance—even you, my darling.” Then, turning businesslike, she took up a pen and paper, while Claire sat in a nearby chair, her thoughts, spurred by her mother's light-hearted comments, having taken a turn she had not expected.

  Claire shook her head to clear it, as Lady Sally went on, “We will have to search among our deserving friends for an interesting young lady, for I think our Mr. Bennett is a prize. I hope that Lydia does not fall in love with him or he with her, for I am certain they would not suit. But one never knows. At times even the nicest men have the most peculiar tastes, but I mustn't be so uncharitable. If they are determined on it, we must let it happen."

  Claire had to laugh at the speed with which her mother was settling the lives of two people who had not even met. “Remember, Mama, that we know very little of Mr. Bennett as yet, and that Lydia knows even less."

  “Right you are, dear. We must get to work before other people in the neighbourhood know him any better. I believe the living at Garby is worth seven hundred pounds a year or thereabouts. That should make a comfortable life for a lady of small fortune.” And Lady Sally sat down to make a list of all of her friends’ eligible daughters, which, due to their discussions of the candidates and many crossings-out, kept her busy until they were joined by the gentlemen.

  No card tables were formed, since neither Lady Sally nor her husband enjoyed games and their guest expressed no wish to play. Instead, Lord Oliver showed him proudly over his library, which held a great number of books.

  “Your collection is an unusually fine one, my lord. Have you found the time to read all of your volumes?” the rector asked.

  “Most certainly. My daughter, Claire, has completed them all as well,” he added proudly. “ It is impossible for me to purchase new ones as fast as she consumes them."

  Mr. Bennett looked slightly startled, but he turned and looked at Claire with respect. “If that is the case, I hope you will both feel free to use the library at the rectory as much as you like while I am there. It is a smaller collection than yours, but it has some interesting volumes. By the amount of dust on them, I would say that my predecessor did not devote much time to study."

  The baron confirmed this with a bark of a laugh, then thanked his guest kindly. Claire was quick to show her pleasure at the invitation, for she had often wished that Mr. Twickenham had given them leave to explore his library. But when it was plainly evident that he himself did not use it and seemed ignorant of its contents, she and her father had not felt it proper to make the request. Moreover, the man would have been shocked that a young lady should be interested in such a masculine pastime.

  “Your predecessor,” Lord Oliver explained, “was given to reading The Gentlemen's Magazine. His literary enthusiasms led him to learn all about finger rings, genealogies, tombstone inscriptions, and antiquities of tavern signs, and his speculations were confined to the existence of swallows in the winter."

  Mr. Bennett laughed appreciatively.

  The evening was soon over, and their guest having departed, the Olivers retired to bed after congratulating themselves on the acquisition of a new friend.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Claire was surprised not to meet Mr. Bennett at any of the few local social gatherings she attended over the next many days. He was much talked about, however, as was the custom whenever someone new entered the community. It appeared that not many of the local families had met him yet, although a few gentlemen had paid their respects at the rectory and some had seen him about town.

  Not long after Mr. Bennett came to dinner at the Olivers', Lord Oliver received an invitation for his family to dine at Garby House, Lord Sitchville's temporary residence while the manor was being rebuilt. It was accepted with more alacrity than usual since the Olivers felt a mild anticipation of pleasure at the thought of seeing their new friend there.

  On the night of the dinner, Claire chose to wear a white satin evening dress with a bodice snug almost to the waist and a flowing skirt. Her sleeves, with small puffs at the shoulders, stretched tightly to her wrists. A wide white satin sash was pulled round her midriff and tied just above the waist in back, drawing the skirt into small pleats. White lace and pearls served as a flounce, and her slippers were white satin. She paid extraordinarily careful attention—though she could not have said why—to the dressing of her hair, schooling soft curls around her face, while the longer hair at the back was gathered high on her head, except for two ringlets which were allowed to trail on each side. The only touch of colour came from vibrant blue ribbons that were threaded through her black hair to match her cloak. The overall effect was breathtaking, though Claire, with her lack of vanity, did not see it as such.

  As the Oliver carriage made its way to Garby House, Claire mused upon the slow pace of life in the country. Extraordinary pleasures came so rarely, and life held such a constant sameness that one was forced to accept the monotony and wait patiently for expected treats. It also forced one not to build high hopes for pleasure, because disappointment could so easily follow.

  Upon their arrival, the Olivers were received graciously as usual by Lord and Lady Sitchville and found a small gathering of their neighbours present. To Claire's immense relief, Lord Babcock was absent, and it was explained that he was not yet up from London; but when dinner was announced, she had to conclude that Mr. Bennett would not be one of the party. This was surprising since Mr. Twickenham had invariably been a guest at such gatherings.

  Claire did not comment on the matter, but during dinner, Lady Sally, who was seated at her host's right, felt it safe to ask, “We do not see your Mr. Bennett here, Lord Sitchville. I hope he is not indisposed."

  “ No, no fear of that. I invited him, but the fellow said he had business,” he replied touchily.

  “Well, I am certain that it must have been extremely important to keep him away from us,” said Lady Sally, attempting to smooth over his ruffled feelings.

  But her remarks had the opposite effect. “The fellow's always busy,” he snorted. “Got some confounded, queer ideas if you ask me."

  Perceiving the glare on his wife's face at the other end of the table, he recalled his audience and hastily excused his intemperate language.

  Too polite to ask what Mr. Bennett's ideas might be and afraid of angering him further, Lady Sally merely said, “I am sure that Mr. Bennett would be more in attendance if he knew that his absence cause
d you displeasure, since you were so kind as to grant him the living here."

  Lord Sitchville looked slightly mollified. “Cousin of my dear friend Avonley. Said I would do him the favour, you know.” Frowning once more, he added, “I don't mind telling you, though, that if Avonley weren't such a favourite of mine, I'd try to take it back. The fellow's no better than an Enthusiast!” Lowering his voice to almost a whisper he explained, “A fanatic, y'know. Poor show.” He shook his head disapprovingly.

  Lady Sally smothered a smile. She had detected nothing of the Evangelical in Mr. Bennett and correctly assumed that Lord Sitchville merely meant that the rector was taking his duties seriously, a circumstance not calculated to please his benefactor.

  Lord Sitchville still looked annoyed. “I shouldn't have allowed it in the first place."

  At this point in the conversation, Lady Sitchville, somewhat alarmed by the testiness in her husband's voice, addressed the entire company from the other end of the table to ask how they were enjoying their fish. Lord Sitchville turned to speak to the guest on his left, and no more was said on the subject of Mr. Bennett.

  The evening passed slowly as the Olivers had to do their penance at Lady Sitchville's whist tables. It was largely uneventful, except that Lady Sitchville made a point of informing Claire that her son would soon be home, much to Claire's annoyance. The knowing smiles and significant looks that were exchanged by many of the guests were exactly the sort of attention she had trouble bearing.

  In an effort to convey her polite indifference she said in speculative tones, “Lord Babcock must be desirous of returning in time to see the progress on your manor.” Too late she realized that her statement could be interpreted as a self-interested request for information. Her discomfort increased as Lord Sitchville gave her an indulgent look.

  “That he is, child, as you may imagine. We can flatter ourselves that Babcock will have more than one reason to be pleased when he comes home.” With the air of one sparing her blushes, but only too ready to indulge his own consuming interest, he began talking about the building.

  “You will all be invited to a series of parties,” he announced in conclusion, “for which my lady will be getting the invitations out soon. Hope there'll be something to entertain you all.” With another grin at Claire he added, “I'm sure a ball will be particularly pleasing to you young ladies, eh?"

  Claire bore up under this badinage as well as possible, but she was immensely relieved when the time came to bid their hosts good-night. Perhaps feeling that he had teased her enough for one night, Lord Sitchville did nothing more then but compliment her upon the dressing of her hair.

  “I can't abide women's bonnets these days. I went to a dinner in London not too long ago, and the women on either side of me had such big hats on, I couldn't see my food!"

  Claire chuckled and parted in better humour with him than before.

  On the way home in their carriage, the Olivers discussed what they had learned that evening.

  “It seems our Mr. Bennett does not know how to please his patron,” concluded Lord Oliver. “He must be at odds with Sitch over something. I hope it does not cost him much, for Sitch could still make things uncomfortable for him here. He cannot take back the living, I suppose, but it will be a shame for a good man like Bennett to be denied any ambition"

  “Perhaps he is not aware of Lord Sitchville's feelings on these matters. About his attendance at these dinners, for instance. Perhaps someone should speak to him about it,” suggested Claire.

  “That may be the case, but as I said before, my dear, this is Mr. Bennett's affair, and being a reasonable gentleman, he knows what is best for himself,” cautioned the baron.

  Claire remained silent, not wanting her father to think that she disagreed, but she was unconvinced. It was too rare an occurrence for them to acquire a new friend, and she decided that it was up to her to do something on his behalf. She had no radical plan in mind; she simply felt that a word of caution to Mr. Bennett was called for. It might be a bit presumptuous, but she felt certain that he would take it in the right light, as timely advice to a newcomer from a person who was well acquainted with the community. They were all agreed that Mr. Bennett was the perfect man for the parish, so why should they not do something about it?

  “It is still astonishing to me,” Lady Sally was saying, “that such an attractive man could be related to Avonley. Why, there could not be two people more un-alike. At one time I could not go to Garby House without being in fear of meeting Avonley there, though fortunately, it has been a few years since he has come. I do not think that Theresa is very fond of him and I suppose he finds better sport elsewhere. They say his only passion is shooting. A revolting man!” she said with a shudder.

  “True ,my dear,” said Lord Oliver. “Who knows what aberration of nature is responsible for it? We are very fortunate in the difference, though, for we might have been saddled with a rector of very cruel disposition."

  The Olivers made up their minds to attend the next Sunday's service to see exactly what it was that was angering Lord Sitchville, and Claire silently told herself that it would be a good time to speak to the rector.

  * * * *

  On Sunday morning they made their way to their seldom-used family pew. It was situated at the front next to the Sitchvilles’ imposing structure, which contained red satin cushions, curtains, and even a fireplace inside its high walls. In winter the fires were allowed to smoke, much to the annoyance of the other worshippers, but Lord Sitchville, in the rare times that he appeared, was rendered comfortable enough by them to sleep soundly to the end of service.

  The Olivers’ pew had enough cushions for comfort and rugs for their laps on cold days, but they had used it little over the past several years, because Mr. Twickenham had driven them away with his inoffensive but pointless sermons.

  The church was more crowded than usual, which they attributed to a general curiosity about the new rector. The Willoughbys joined them in their pew, which Sophia and Lydia had been using faithfully, Robert accompanying them when he could be persuaded to do so. Even Lady Sitchville made her appearance, intending, it might have been supposed, to serve as a good example. Lord Sitchville, to no one's surprise, was not present.

  Mr. Bennett entered soberly, his visage calm. He read in a deep melodious voice and with a sincerity of tone to which Claire found herself listening with pleasure. The readings over, he returned to the vestry to change his surplice for a black Geneva gown and band before mounting the pulpit, which was on a third tier directly over the clerk's seat and the reading desk. Sconces stuck along the wall provided lighting.

  Mr. Twickenham had been careful never to offend with his sermons—and therefore, never to enlighten. Mr. Bennett, ignoring what might be considered bad taste, had the courage to mention Christian teachings about the poor, the justice that was due them, and the consequences of overlooking one's duty towards them. It did not take a thunderous voice or an intimidating manner to make these words offensive to Lord Sitchville, the Olivers well knew. The calm sincerity in Mr. Bennett's voice was more impressive than any amount of shouting and threats. It was his words, rather than his manner, that had led Lord Sitchville to accuse him of being an Evangelical, for Sitchville would consider them inflammatory.

  But Claire was impressed. She left the pew feeling not guilty, but inspired. It was a new experience for her to leave church experiencing any sense of uplift, since Mr. Twickenham had been such an obvious hypocrite. His priestly robes had barely concealed the habit he wore to go fishing, for he spent most of his daylight hours doing just that. The Sunday service was the only duty he performed unless specifically requested, and even requests were not always scrupulously attended to.

  As the Olivers were leaving church after service, Claire lagged behind to try to catch a minute with Mr. Bennett, who was standing at the door saying a few words to each person who passed. She happened to reach the door as her uncle Robert was finishing a hurried conversation with the rec
tor. Robert had a somewhat anxious look on his face, and Claire was surprised to overhear what she understood to be a request for Mr. Bennett to meet with him on the morrow. It was obvious that the rector had acquiesced, though not without some mild surprise. Uncle Bobby moved on, however, and Claire turned her mind to the task at hand.

  “Good morning, Miss Oliver,” began Mr. Bennett, greeting her with a smile.

  “A very good morning to you, sir,” she responded. “And a very pretty sermon that was. I will have you know that we are not used to that sort of talk around here,” she added lightly.

  “Did you find my sermon offensive?” he asked her, still smiling.

  “Of course not,” she said. “It is just that when one is accustomed to Mr. Twickenham, it is quite a surprise to find a sermon that one prefers to a pint of ale."

  Mr. Bennett looked amused but puzzled by her statement.

  Claire explained herself. “I can see that no one has told you about the occasion that your predecessor, already foxed and finding only men in the congregation, offered them a pint in lieu of the sermon.” When she saw the dawning comprehension on Mr. Bennett's face, she continued, “And I must say, after suffering through many of his sermons, that I could not blame the men for their choice."

  He laughed. “I will engage then, Miss Oliver, to offer you a pint—or a glass of sherry if you prefer—should you find yourself disappointed with mine."

  She smiled at him. “Somehow I do not think you will be required to do so. But if the issue comes up with the village men, I should warn you that on the previous occasion, Mr. Squint held out for a quart."

  “I appreciate the warning,” said Mr. Bennett, clearly delighted by the conversation. Then, remembering his manners, he added, “May I thank you again for a most pleasant time at dinner that evening."

  “It was very kind of you to join us,” replied Claire, perceiving that he had given her the perfect opening. “We have noticed with regret that you have accepted few other invitations in the neighbourhood!'