Chapter Three
Knowing he was being nearly unforgivably rude to his family, Gilbert strode away from Clayton House as swiftly as he could.
The spring wind felt brisk at first, but within a few minutes, he was warm enough.
Perhaps he might walk as far as the village, Doddington.
It would give him time to think on his situation. Not that he wished to dwell upon it.
Oh, his situation felt most grievous, indeed.
How could he possibly tell his family the truth—that he had left Oxford before taking his final exams?
That he had not even completed all his classes, because he simply could not bear it another week?
The pressure he had felt as his last days of schooling approached had utterly overwhelmed him.
He knew his family fully expected him to enter the church.
Indeed, that had been his intention, as well, when he went to University.
However, the further he delved into the classes he knew were necessary for that career, the more dismay he felt.
Latin? Necessary, but a complete bore. History was somewhat interesting, but philosophy all but put him to sleep in lectures.
The only subjects he truly took pleasure in were mathematics and rhetoric.
In truth, he was ranked at the top of his fellow students in those areas.
The other classes? He managed to barely scrape by, which is why he had not taken his final exams in them.
In addition, the entire structure of the student body at Oxford had caused him dismay.
Gilbert counted himself lucky to be admitted in the Gentleman-Commoner class, thanks to his father owning a decent estate.
It allowed Gilbert to sit at the higher tables at meals in the dining hall, along with the elite Nobleman Commoners.
Both classes were well away from the next status down—the Commoners.
Those men were appreciated for their scholarly attributes, but were often looked down upon for being only the sons of wealthy tradesmen, rather than of the landed gentry.
Gilbert, himself, felt no disdain for the Commoners.
In fact, he had actually made a very good friend from that class—Carter Milbourn—who had often helped him study Latin.
Lowest of all were called the Servitors students—those unfortunates who had to work for their education, were housed in the coldest, smallest rooms, and were often treated poorly—even cruelly—by those in the upper classes.
While Gilbert never did so, if pressed, he would have to admit that neither did he stand up for those young men or stop others from conducting their harassment.
Gilbert understood how things were, but it still bothered him to see the separations of classes, recognizable at a glance from the distinguishing caps and gowns each group wore.
The gowns of the nobleman students were of finest silk with gold lace, and their caps were decorated with gold tassels.
Even Gilbert’s class enjoyed silk robes trimmed with rows of black pom-poms, while the Servitors wore plain gowns of the cheapest black cloth and a plain black cap.
Yes, it was easy to immediately note a student’s status and comprehend the privileges that went along with it.
No, Gilbert was glad to be done with his education, even as he dreaded his family’s learning the truth of his failures.
Their disappointment would be lessened if he might soon assure them with confidence of his next steps.
Then, all would be well. But Gilbert was at an utter loss to ascertain his new direction for himself and dreaded having to reveal his secrets.
As he walked towards Doddington, his spirits very low, Gilbert barely took notice of a young woman sitting on a low, stone wall alongside the road. So intent on his musings, he walked past without any acknowledgement of her. Then a voice called his name and he halted.
“Gilbert, is that you?”
He turned to see Nancy Slade, whom he had often played with as a child.
She was the daughter of a successful businessman in Doddington.
Her mother had died when Nancy was about eight, and her father, intent on building his businesses, had hired a governess for his daughter.
The woman had often enjoyed a long afternoon nap, giving her charge free rein to run wild when her morning studies were completed.
Indeed, the first time Nancy and Gilbert had met, she had challenged him to see who could climb up higher in a large oak tree and—all these years later he still hated to admit it—she had won.
He had always admired her fearless nature, and would run off from Clayton House to meet up with Nancy after his own tutor released him.
The two would scamper about the countryside for hours.
He had seen little of her since going away to school, yet looking at her now, he thought she had not changed much from when they had played together.
She still had the sweet, heart-shaped and lightly freckled face, red curly hair, and dimples.
“Nancy,” he said, coming back to stand before where she still sat, swinging her legs freely, and grinning up at him. “Excuse me for walking past you with no greeting. My mind was otherwise occupied.”
“I could see that,” she said, jumping down from the stone wall. “My, such a serious countenance I saw upon you. No wonder I was all but invisible to you.”
“Again, my deepest apologies,” he said, making a teasing bow to her.
She laughed, and dropped a deep curtsy. “Oh, such the gentleman you are now that you have been to University. I suppose I ought to address you more properly than Gilbert now. Shall I call you Master Gilbert? Or Mr. Kendall?”
“Mr. Kendall is my father, as you well know. I hope to always just be Gilbert to you.” He exhaled loudly and looked up the road. “I was just walking into Doddington. Will you join me?”
“And risk my very reputation?” Nancy placed a hand over her bosom and threw her eyes up towards the sky.
“Why, sir, how can you ask such a thing of me?” When Gilbert stood, unable to reply, she laughed and said, “Of course, I am teasing you. I am no highborn lady, after all. Everyone knows you and I are old friends, therefore, I do not anticipate any scandalous gossip will ensue from being seen alone in your company.” She winked at him and added in a serious tone, “I believe I may safely walk alongside you as a friendly companion.”
“I hope we always shall be friends, Nancy. I thought of you often when I was at school.”
“Oh, now you are teasing me.” The two walked up the road. “Tell me, Gilbert, did you enjoy Oxford?”
“It was… it was….” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I do not know how to properly answer your query, Nancy. Some of my classes were fascinating and others were agony to endure.”
“What did you like the best?”
“I enjoyed mathematics very much, but then, I always have. Numbers make sense to me in a way words never have. I found it so difficult to concentrate on some of my subjects.”
“Oh? What did you find challenging?”
“Theology, for one. Truly, if it had not been for the help I got from my one good friend there, I should have badly failed Latin.”
Nancy halted her steps to study Gilbert a moment. “Oh, my—that is a problem. Aren’t you expected to join the church, after all? I believe that is what they all say in Doddington.”
“The church.” Gilbert sighed heavily. “Yes, that is the expectation, but I am, in truth, dreading it. That is why I ran away from my family as soon as I arrived today, you see. I was so afraid they were going to set me down and tell me the plan for my life right then and there. I declare, Nancy, I should have run screaming from the room had that been the case, so I bolted for a walk with the excuse of needing the exercise.”
They walked in silence a while before Gilbert spoke again.
“May I confess something, Nancy? The simple fact is—I have neither desire nor inclination to become a pastor. Oughtn’t one feel a strong longing to serve God to take orders?
Or to at least serve one’s parishioners?
I feel naught of either requirement. While I am aware that, should I one day become a full rector with my own parish, I could hire a curate to do most of the work and live a life of ease, as many a rector has done before me.
However, such a plan does not appeal, either. I should feel bored and useless.”
She nodded, silent, but with a serious expression on her face. The two continued walking.
“Then, will it be the military for you?” Nancy finally asked. “I think you would look lovely in regimentals, if you’ll forgive my boldness.” She gave an impish grin.
“That is a fate even worse than the church, to my mind. Spend hours marching about and firing guns? Even worse, go to battle against Napoleon? No, thank you. And the Navy holds no appeal to me either, for I should be sea-sick at all times.” He sighed and turned to sit on the stone wall by the road, shaking his head, a miserable expression upon his face.
Nancy sat beside him, considering his words. “Well, then. Not the church and not the military. What will you do, Gilbert? You must find some purpose—some profession. I do not think your family will allow you to be idle. Besides, how would you live?”
“I do not know. Oh, why wasn’t I the son born first?
I should make an excellent estate owner and enjoy such a life very well, indeed.
Miles has a better temperament for the military, or even the church, come to that.
But only because he was born before me, he gets the land and all the money and I get nothing. It’s so unfair.”
“Did your mother not leave any inheritance for you?”
“A modest sum that I can claim when I turn four and twenty this summer. But it is surely not enough to allow me to live the life I desire. Nothing like what Miles will have when he inherits Clayton House.” His tone was bitter.
Nancy nodded in understanding. “It is hard for second sons, ’tis true.
But you must do something, Gilbert.” When he remained silent, she grinned and said, “Perhaps your father might supplement your mother’s money and give you enough of an allowance to enjoy yourself in town.
You could spend your time gambling and drinking until you lose both your looks and your health—now that would be a fine career for you. ” She punched him playfully in the arm.
Gilbert gave her a small smile. “You always have loved to tease me, Nancy, but I am in too sour a disposition at present to respond in kind. Let us speak of something else. How is your father?”
“I thank you for asking. He is very well. Oh, you have been gone so long that I do not think you know that he has recently acquired a new business in Doddington.”
Gilbert perked up at this bit of news. “Really?”
“Yes, he bought the tea shop from old Mrs. Wilbury. She was just getting too old to manage it, and, after her husband died, she decided to move into Norfolk to be closer to her daughter. Papa thought it a good opportunity, so he bought it and has already been making improvements. He has purchased new chairs and tables and renamed it. It is now called Franny’s Tea and Coffee, after my grandmother Francis.
Papa has hired a new baker, too. You must come taste the pastries—I’ll warrant you have none better at Clayton House. ”
“Mrs. Wilbury’s place could use a new one. I declare the last time I had a scone there, I nearly broke a tooth.” They both laughed. “How many businesses does this make for your father? He is certainly busy. I do not know how he manages.”
“It is our fourth, plus he has part ownership in the Black Crow Inn. Susan Margory was saying to me just the other day that it is a good thing my father is so well off, that I was able to waste his money on my Season in town to no good end.” She shrugged.
“I came home unwed, still, you see, much to the dismay of my father, and I shall not have another.”
“That was poorly spoken—how rude of Susan. Likely she is only jealous that her father cannot afford to send her to town for a Season, despite being a gentleman. But I did not know you had gone to town.” He leaned closer, an impish expression on his face.
“Tell me, Nancy, did you enjoy your Season? Was it not enjoyable to dance and tease handsome young gentlemen?”
“Oh… you well know I am no flirt, Gilbert. I can speak and joke easily with you, but I do not possess the ability to do so with those with whom I am not well acquainted. I find such banter quite banal and useless. I did enjoy the dancing, when I was asked, which was not that often, to own it.”
“I have danced with you at local assemblies and know you to be a wonderful partner. It is entirely the loss of the gentlemen in town, if you ask me.”
Nancy turned away to study her boots intently.
“You flatter me, Gilbert,” she said softly.
“My poor maiden aunt in town did her best for me. She even added three hundred pounds to my dowry from Papa to generate more interest, but I fear I was a lost cause—I am not a gentleman’s daughter and, therefore, am of little or no consequence to the gentlemen of the ton.
There were no callers, there were no offers, no grand flirtations and, so, I came home no different than when I had left, aside from obtaining a few new dresses.
” She wrinkled her nose and gave him a bit of a smile.
“So. It is clear that I am doomed to be set on the shelf. I shall likely end up running Papa’s tea shop until I am as ancient and decrepit as Mrs. Wilbury, and that shall be my lot.
It could be worse, of course. So, I am not so downhearted, and I forbid you to feel sorry for me,” she said, wagging a finger at Gilbert.
“I seek no pity, I assure you, for my bleak future.”
“On the shelf? Never! You are far too kind and pretty, Nancy, to suffer such a fate. I am certain there is some young man in the village who will want to make you his wife.”
Nancy stared at Gilbert intently. Her hazel eyes seemed to reach deeply into him.
What was he seeing in them? He could not perceive her thoughts behind her countenance.
Then, she hopped off the wall, saying only, “Perhaps.” She took a deep breath, then strode away, calling back, “Come. I shall buy you a cup of tea or chocolate at Franny’s, if you like.
And then, I shall divulge all the village gossip. ”
His mood lightened somewhat, he hurried after her.