The Parson's Pleasure Read online

  Claire smiled, but found it impossible to be as amused as her mother by such a picture. “I suppose it is possible,” she allowed, “but somehow I cannot see Mr. Bennett and Lydia as husband and wife. They do not seem as if they would suit."

  “I understand your point, my love,” said her mother with a sigh, “but after all, they are each of them destined for such a marriage, if not with each other, then with someone similar. This might be the best opportunity Lydia has for making a good match. She certainly could not do better for a husband, for a more attractive and likable man does not exist. And Mr. Bennett is of an age to be looking for a wife to help him with his duties. It would certainly please Lord and Lady Sitchville for him to marry, and it would not be charitable of us to seem to oppose the match, just because we consider Lydia's mind to be inferior to what our friend deserves. Men's tastes are not always so easy to understand in this respect, and Lydia is, after all, a very attractive girl. Now, here comes your father. I wonder what can have put such an expression of disgust on his face."

  Claire saw that indeed her father did look remarkably annoyed for one who was usually in such gentle good humour.

  “What can that woman be going on about?” he demanded as he joined them. `A lady would not wish’ to do this, and ‘Of course, ladies do not’ do that. As if a lady might not do exactly as she pleases! What on earth does she mean?"

  Claire and her mother laughed. “I suppose you must be speaking of dear Sophia,” said Lady Sally. “She is insufferable today, is she not? It serves you right to be suffering her now, though, because you are so quick to hide in your library when she makes her usual visits to us. Claire and I are more used to this kind of talk, not that we like it any the better!'

  Claire explained, “I think, Papa, that when Aunt Sophia refers to a ‘lady,’ she means a woman who comports herself in a certain delicate or ladylike fashion, rather than someone born to the position. It seems to be the prevailing definition these days"

  “I suppose there are some for whom such a definition provides the only entree,” said her father uncharitably, “but if it means that my daughter may not read a book, they will never get me to accept it."

  Both mother and daughter laughed again, but they wore soon joined by Babcock, who put an end to their shared amusement.

  Babcock had been exceptionally long in returning with Claire's luncheon, a circumstance owing to Lydia's being stationed not far from the serving tables. He had managed quite skillfully to fall into conversation with her, though her downcast eyes and whispered responses had made their speech more or less one-sided. This did not dismay Babcock, however, who saw her modesty and restraint as congenial qualities approaching his ideal of womanhood. But he abruptly remembered his social duties and returned to Miss Oliver's side with flushed cheeks, a feverish eye, and an excited manner. Lady Sally was commenting on his feverish appearance when Mr. Bennett strolled over to join their party.

  “I quite agree, Lord Babcock,” he added with an exaggeratedly concerned air. “I hope today's heat has not spoiled the entertainment for you. Perhaps you would care to rest inside while I conduct Miss Oliver on a tour of the garden.” He casually bowed in Claire's direction.

  Babcock was on the point of refusing, when he glanced at Claire. For the first time in his life, he really looked at her. She was pretty, yes, and graceful. And she carried herself with the assurance of a lady. But there were times when she made him feel foolish, and she never looked at him with the respect he had seen in the eyes of the gorgeous creature he had met today—the beautiful girl in pink and blue who was standing near the house.

  An unmistakable light glinted in Babcock's eyes. “Ye-e-es,” he stammered, eagerly magnanimous, “that might be a good idea. I cannot think what has come over me, but perhaps it is the heat. I am reluctant to give up the pleasure of Miss Oliver's company, but I think today she must find me a poor companion. I would be grateful to you for sitting in my stead until I can prove more worthy of her attention."

  Babcock's words drew a variety of reactions. Mr. Bennett, both surprised and grateful for his easy victory, smiled and offered Claire his arm. Claire's parents looked shocked at Babcock's eager relinquishing of their daughter, finding it so unlike his usual behaviour that they began to suspect he truly was ill. Claire felt a faint twinge of annoyance at the manner in which he had expressed himself, but she was so happy to be released from anticipated boredom that, after a moment's hesitation to fully understand her good fortune, she sprang lightly to her feet and accepted Mr. Bennett's arm. They walked away as Babcock excused himself and headed back in the direction of the house.

  “I hope you do not mind my interference,” began the rector, with a rather studied air of disinterest, “but Lord Babcock looked decidedly unwell. I thought I might be of some service."

  Claire was so happy to be free of Babcock's company that she could not keep a properly serious expression. “On the contrary, we are all grateful. Babcock frets constantly about his health. I dare say the heat was bothering him, but he was too polite to give in to it if it meant leaving someone unescorted and neglecting what he considers the proper thing to do. He was obviously happy to be released from his obligation,” she said gaily.

  A smile lurked at the corners of Mr. Bennett's mouth. Certainly, he thought, no one could look less like an abandoned female than Miss Oliver. With her beaming face and lilting walk, she put him in mind of a freed bird. He began to wonder if there was something less than what was whispered between Lord Babcock and Claire Oliver.

  As they strolled, they chatted pleasantly. Claire took the opportunity to compliment him on his lecture in the church, and he had a willing listener for the facts that he had uncovered but omitted from his tour.

  “You seem to know a great deal about architecture, Mr. Bennett. When have you had time to study it amongst your other subjects?” she asked.

  The rector smiled sheepishly. “I am afraid I cannot take much credit for that, Miss Oliver. Perhaps I have not informed you fully about my background. Suffice it to say that my name, my entire name, is Christopher Wren Bennett."

  Claire was startled, “You mean that the great architect was one of your ... ?"

  He gave an amused shake of his head and corrected her before she could finish. “No, no relation. It is simply that my mother came from a Wiltshire family which had long appreciated the work of Christopher Wren, and my father was something of an admirer, too. He must have been because he allowed her to name me after him. I was encouraged to learn about architecture as well, but I showed no talent for it. I cannot draw a straight line even with a rule. However, I don't think I disappointed my mother too severely. She always gave the impression of being satisfied with me."

  Claire had to laugh at his tale, and she privately told herself how rare it was to find a man who could admit his own shortcomings so cheerfully.

  As they rounded the corner of the house, still conversing happily, they came in view of Sophia who spied them and immediately set upon them.

  “Oh, there you are, Mr. Bennett!” she exclaimed. “I was just talking about you, wondering what your opinion would be of a little prayer I would like Lydia to say each night at bedtime. It goes like this...” And, before Mr. Bennett could avoid such an inappropriately timed revelation, she took an elocutionary stance, bowed her head reverently and began, “Oh, Lord, in sin was I conceived, please make me free from sin."

  Claire, who had been watching Mr. Bennett's face, saw his expression change from mild annoyance to real anger. Then, as her aunt raised her eyes, he rapidly feigned surprise and shock. Before his attitude had time to register with her aunt, he seized the woman's hand and bent to kiss it.

  “Dear lady,” he whispered in hushed astonishment, “I had no idea! This comes as the gravest shock to me. But have no fear. God is merciful in his forgiveness. And of course, you may rely completely upon my discretion."

  Claire gasped as the meaning of his action and words sank in. Mr. Bennett looked at he
r swiftly, then wasted no time in whisking her away around the corner of the building. He still managed to take leave of her aunt with a suitably sympathetic gesture, before the full import of what he had said occurred to Sophia. Claire's last image of her aunt was one of someone stunned, with confusion and dawning horror vying for supremacy.

  As soon as the rector had got Claire sufficiently far from the house to be neither seen nor heard, he let go of her arm and turned to look at her. From the expression on his face she could tell that he was already chastising himself for what he had done and was waiting for her reaction. Claire, who had nearly burst with embarrassment and mirth, broke down and laughed as quietly as possible until the sides of her head ached. In view of this, Mr. Bennett had to laugh, too, but it was clear that he was ashamed of himself.

  “Please forgive me, Miss Oliver,” he said, putting a halt to their laughter. “That was cruel of me. I ought to maintain better control of myself. The truth is that I have been finding it increasingly hard to deal with your aunt's piety. I am always angered when someone labels as sin the perfectly natural expression of love between husband and—” Abruptly, Mr. Bennett seemed to realize the impropriety of his words as he recalled to whom he was speaking.

  Claire felt the hot flush of embarrassment stealing over her face. She was annoyed with herself for being so missish, but the truth was that she could not discuss the marital bed objectively with this particular friend, with whom she had discussed so much. For the first time, she really noticed the strength in the line of his jaw, the musculature of his neck almost hidden by his neckcloth, and the broad expanse of his chest. The warmth of her blush seemed to spread through her body, causing her hands to tremble slightly. When she spoke next, her voice was h6arse.

  “Of course, it was a positively shocking thing to do, but I am certain she deserved it. We all of us have found Aunt Sophia difficult to support today. She has been inordinately pleased with herself, and her resulting officiousness is too much to bear. You, who have had to put up with her all week, must have had your patience tried beyond endurance."

  “It is kind of you to defend me, but it is doubly worse that I should have played such a cruel trick when she has been so happy. She did all the work for today's gathering, you know. She really has been most helpful and kind."

  “And it was you who gave her that pleasure,” declared Claire stoutly. “You must know that she has done no entertaining since she arrived here, given the size of their cottage and their serving staff. You have done her a great kindness by giving her the opportunity."

  This only served to make the rector look more chagrined, but he smiled. “It won't do, I'm afraid, Miss Oliver. You see, I had not the good motives you would attribute to me. The tour and the party were her suggestions, and I could easily see that she would be willing to play hostess. I fell in with the plan merely because it would allow me to pay back the invitations I have received with the least inconvenience to myself."

  “Well,” Claire began, but she could think of nothing else to say in his defense. Perceiving that he was at least amused by her attempts to excuse him, she said, “I can see that you deserve all the censure you are asking for, then, but I suppose you will be punished sufficiently by the dread of your next meeting with my aunt."

  He winced. “Yes, I had forgotten about that. But it won't be the first time I have brought this on myself. I have something of a hasty temper, and my tongue has been let loose more than once. I really have no business being in the ministry.” Something of his earlier anger reappeared. “It is just that people waste so much valuable time on such unimportant matters. If they were just aware of how much true wrong there is ... But I guess they are not aware of it and that is exactly the problem. Of course, most people do not want to know about anything unpleasant, and those who do, do not care."

  Claire found his words a bit confusing, but she could see that he was preoccupied with some thought, and so said nothing. For a moment he seemed to forget that she was there, for his eyes had a faraway look, and his brow was furrowed as if he had some particular problem to solve. As she waited, he remembered her presence with a start and apologized for his silence.

  “It is quite all right,” responded Claire. “But I wish you would tell me if there is anything particularly troubling you—that is, if I can be of assistance."

  He began to say no, but rethinking, he looked at her speculatively. “Perhaps this is something you could help me with,” he answered. “I wonder if you know anyone, among your servants, for example, who might understand enough Anglo-Saxon dialect to help me to understand what someone is saying, and to explain my words in the same dialect."

  “I think that I can help you with that,” said Claire, a perplexed look on her face, “but it might be best if you could explain to me what this is about."

  “Yes, of course,” he replied. “It is no secret. Just two days ago, I was walking in town when I happened to find a small boy trapped in a mound of dust. It was actually filth, which must have been raked there over several weeks, and I do believe the child would have suffocated if I had not seen him. As it was, he was barely distinguishable from the pigs which were scavenging at the bottom."

  The rector cleared his throat and frowned. “I pulled him out by the heels and found him to be a small, grossly undernourished boy. Impossible to tell his age, but I suspect from the scarring on his knees and his elbows that he was employed for some time as a climbing boy. He was too weak to protest my carrying him, but it was easy to see that he was terribly frightened.

  “I inquired of passersby until I found someone who knew him and could tell me where his home was. I had was no trouble finding it, but as his mother was obviously as frightened as the boy by my being there, I did not stay.

  “Yesterday, I thought it best to stop by to see how he was doing, but when I got there I found him on a rough sort of bed in the corner, looking very ill. The problem is that his mother speaks and understands only this local dialect, and as a result I cannot make her understand that I do not mean to hurt the boy—and certainly I do not understand anything she says."

  Claire looked at him curiously. “What do you mean to do?” she asked.

  “I don't know,” the rector replied. “But there must be something that can be done for him. He cannot just be left the way he is. It looks as though his mother has not been near him, almost as though she expects him to die and has resigned herself to it.” Mr. Bennett became aware that Claire was regarding him fixedly. “Why are you looking at me like that?"

  She responded, “It is just that you never cease to amaze me. She probably does expect him to die. You must know that most people are afraid of coming near any sick person, even their own children. He will be left to himself and allowed to die if you do not do anything.” Then she added, “Mr. Twickenham boasted frequently that he had never entered a sick person's cottage. He seemed to think it a virtue."

  “I will be very grateful to you, Miss Oliver,” said Mr. Bennett warningly, yet with a smile playing about his mouth, “if you cease comparing me to Twickenham. It is a very lowering thought that I am occupying the position once held by him. I had rather not be reminded that we are supposed to be of the same cloth."

  Claire laughed. “I do not think you need regard it too closely. No one is likely to confuse the two of you."

  “Well,” said Mr. Bennett, “getting back to the business at hand, can you think of anyone who would be likely to help me?"

  “Indeed I can,” said Claire cheerfully. “I know just the person. My own nurse used just such an old dialect as a child and I am certain she would be happy to help you. She will be the best person to send, too, for she will be able to tell how sick the child is."

  He looked at her doubtfully. “Don't you think she might be offended if you ask her to do this? When I said that this child was hard to distinguish from a pig, I was only partly joking."

  “I would be very much surprised if he had seen water and soap in months,” Claire agreed.
“But do not be concerned about Nurse. To her, a child is a child, and if he requires a good bit of scrubbing she will be all the more pleased. Many a time have I heard her express a wish to get her hands on some of these urchins.”

  Mr. Bennett laughed. “She sounds just the woman for the job, then. Tell me where I might find her and I will take her there tomorrow."

  Claire did not answer him at first. An idea had sprung into her mind, but she kept it to herself and instead merely said, “No, I think you had best let me tell her about it. Then I can send my groom to fetch her and come to you with the carriage. If she cannot come for any reason, I will send you word this evening."

  “A very handsome offer. Thank you,” replied the rector. Then they both decided that it was time for them to return to Mr. Bennett's guests and for Claire to be off with her parents.

  As they approached the others, Claire suddenly remembered Mr. Bennett's last words to her Aunt Sophia.

  “I do not think that we should appear to have enjoyed ourselves too much,” she said in a low voice, “or my aunt might think that we did at her expense."

  “No, confound it! You are right,” Mr. Bennett said, and they schooled their features. He did his best to look abashed and concerned, and Claire looked agitated, as though her maidenly modesty had been offended.

  Aunt Sophia, for her part, had been wondering how on earth she could face Mr. Bennett again. How could he have mistaken her meaning in such a way? Underneath her shock and humiliation was a tiny, lurking suspicion that perhaps he had understood her, after all; but reason told her that it could not be so. It was of the utmost urgency that she correct his error, although she could not bear the thought of approaching a subject of such delicacy. Consequently, when she saw Mr. Bennett and Claire return to the house, she looked at them with trepidation, but their facial expressions put her mind at rest.

  They both looked ill at ease. There was not the slightest possibility that two people with that degree of tension between them could have been sharing a joke at her expense. Claire must have taken on the onerous task, for one of her tender years, of setting the rector right. When Mr. Bennett glanced up and saw Sophia, he looked embarrassed and ashamed. Sophia blushed slightly at the recognition, but felt not the excruciating embarrassment she had expected to feel.