Chapter 4
Vicar John Clark was wise and gentle, and his warm smile always made Bridget feel more relaxed. At least, it always had in the past. Today, though, it was hard to imagine feeling relaxed about anything. Her whole life was fluctuating madly.
He stood in the doorway, peering at her through his spectacles. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Bridget?”
She was hurriedly putting everything she owned into a traveling bag. “He gave me two hours,” she said. “I don’t have time to second-guess myself.”
“I’ve known you since you were six and ten years of age,” he remarked. “It seems like a very long time, all of a sudden.”
“And you know what a blessing you’ve been to me,” she told him. “I couldn’t have made it without the help you gave me.”
It was true. She had begun visiting the orphanage when she was young, longing for a way to feel as if the things she did mattered. As if she were making some sort of worthwhile contribution. Being at the orphanage had given her that feeling.
As the only daughter—the only child—of the Baron of Stoneware, her life had been filled with expectations she had always known she couldn’t meet.
Her father had longed for an heir, but his wife had only given him one child.
Bridget felt as if both of her parents blamed her for the fact that she’d been born a girl.
They looked at her as if she were something less than a full person.
It was similar to the way they looked at members of the household staff, Bridget had always thought, as if there were something about her that made her less than the two of them, something she would never be able to change.
But in many ways, it was better for the staff because at least they were fitting into the roles that were assigned to them.
They were supposed to be lesser, only there to serve, so the baron and baroness accepted them.
But Bridget… she had been supposed to be someone else altogether, someone she could never be.
They would never be satisfied with who she was.
She was sent to her aunt and uncle, Prudence’s parents, as she had grown older, to try to find a marriage match. Her father had hoped that, since she was not the heir he’d wanted, he could at least marry her off early and rid himself of the responsibility for her.
It hadn’t worked, though. Bridget was naturally shy and had found it difficult to navigate the London social scene.
It had gotten harder once Prudence had married, and she had been on her own.
When she had returned home without having made a match, her father had been at the end of his tether, as she’d known he would be.
She hadn’t expected that he would turn her out of the house, though. That had been a shock.
But at least her past had given her somewhere to go.
Vicar John had welcomed her with open arms, assuring her that she was wanted at the orphanage.
She had never felt like a charity case, since he had put her right to work, and she knew perfectly well how helpful she was to the children here.
Vicar John had become like a father to her, in the absence of her own, and she knew perfectly well that everything he was saying to her now came from a place of concern for her well-being.
She turned from her packing and faced him. “I have to go,” she said. “I know it’s an odd thing the duke is requesting, but the child has been so unwell. I couldn’t live with myself if I just let her go without even making sure that she was going to be all right.”
“Well, I suppose I might have expected that of you,” Vicar John said.
“You’ve always been so generous of spirit.
Always putting others before yourself. It’s your best and your worst quality, you know.
You’re so selfless that other people can always count on you to care for them, and that’s wonderful.
But at the same time, you neglect your own needs, and it makes me worry.
Going off with a strange man like this… I can’t say I approve, Bridget. ”
“I know,” Bridget said. “But I’ll be back when winter is over, as he said. And in the meantime, you’ll know exactly where I am. You can always come and look in on me if you have concerns or send someone else to do that.”
“Even so, I can’t help but worry about it,” the vicar said. “We don’t even know this man. We don’t know anything about him.”
“That’s why I have to go,” Bridget said.
“I know it’s a risk, but I can’t allow Emma to take that risk on her own.
I must go with her. She has to have someone by her side, someone to help make sure she is safe and protected.
I can’t let her go on her own. For all the reasons you worry about me doing it, I worry about her.
And it’s far worse because she’s a child.
I don’t need protecting, not really. But Emma does. ”
Vicar John sighed. “I should have known there would be no stopping you,” he said. “You’re very stubborn when you set your mind to something.”
Bridget smiled. “I know I can be. But I think that’s what this situation calls for. I think that’s what Emma needs, and I want to make sure she has someone on her side right now.”
The vicar nodded. “Well, I think you ought to write a letter to your parents just the same,” he said. “I think you should tell them you’re going so they know where you’ll be.”
Bridget sighed. “You know they don’t care.”
It was true. She had been here at the orphanage for over a year now, and in that time, neither of her parents had bothered to reach out to her even once.
When she had first arrived, she had sent her mother a letter to let her know where she was, assuming that her family would eventually want to find her.
But that hadn’t happened. There had never been so much as a piece of return correspondence.
She hadn’t heard from her parents since the day her father had turned her out of his house.
For the most part, she had managed to convince herself that she didn’t mind.
She’d never depended on them for love or anything like it.
She was used to being on her own. What difference did it make that now she was truly alone, not just emotionally alone?
Wasn’t it better that they weren’t pretending any longer, that they could all admit they wanted nothing to do with each other and had no place in each other’s lives?
Usually, she believed that.
But sometimes it was hard. Seeing the way the duke had come barging into the orphanage demanding his daughter back had stirred a deep ache within her.
She knew neither of her own parents would ever show that much care for her.
She wasn’t sure if she could trust the duke or not, but he certainly gave a good impression of caring for his child.
“You never know,” Vicar John said, his voice full of compassion. “You never know what might turn them around, Bridget. If they come looking for you, I want them to know where they can find you.”
“Well, I’m not sure that’s what I want,” Bridget said.
“If they come looking for me, it won’t be because they miss me or care about me.
It won’t be because they want me home. I don’t know what would drive them to come after me after all this time, but I’d imagine it wouldn’t be anything good.
And I would be just as happy to avoid that kind of encounter. ”
It wasn’t entirely true. Even though the past was fraught, they were still her parents, and to have them come looking for her for any reason would have moved Bridget.
What she truly didn’t think she could stand was getting her hopes up.
She didn’t want to send them a letter with details of her life and allow herself to believe that they might care—that they might reach out to her.
She would only be disappointed, and she wanted to spare herself that pain.
“You can tell them,” she told Vicar John.
“If they come after me, if they search for me here, you can tell them where I went. But unless that happens, I don’t see the point in communicating with them about it, because it isn’t going to make any difference.
They won’t care. They have never cared about what I’m doing, and they’re not going to start now. ”
Vicar John sighed. “I hate that you feel that way.”
“Well, it’s just the truth,” Bridget said. “It’s good to be able to acknowledge things that are true, even if they aren’t necessarily positive.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Vicar John said. “All right. We won’t write to your parents, but if they come looking for you, I’ll tell them where you can be found.”
Bridget nodded. It was more than fair, and she was sure her parents wouldn’t try to find her, so it didn’t matter.
Prudence was another question. She did have a good relationship with her cousin. Should she write to her?
I’ll do it once I get there. Once I’m settled into this new life. Right now, it still doesn’t feel very real. Once she reached Greystone, she would be able to tell her cousin a bit more about what was going on and what to make of it all.
The duke mentioned that Leonard was his friend.
Surely that was a good sign. Bridget liked and trusted her cousin’s husband.
He wouldn’t have befriended anyone too terrible.
And maybe if they really were friends, there would be visits between them.
There would be the comfort of a familiar face.
Maybe Prudence would even be a regular part of her life while she was at Greystone. She could hope, anyway.
She finished putting her things in her bag and turned to face the vicar. “My biggest worry in all this is the orphanage,” she said. “It feels wrong to be leaving it all behind to care for a single child. But at the same time, I know she needs me.”
“You don’t have to worry,” Vicar John assured her. “We have plenty of hands here. I’ll never make light of your value or diminish your importance to us. We need you. But until you come back, we’ll manage. I promise.”
Bridget let out a sigh, hoping that it was true. “All right,” she said. “In that case, I don’t think I dare keep the duke waiting any longer. He’s made it clear that he’ll happily leave without me if I do.”
“Make sure you take good care of yourself,” the vicar said. “You know how important you are to me.”
She knew he wasn’t talking about the orphanage anymore, but about how much he cared for her as a person.
“You’re important to me, too,” she said.
“I don’t know if I would have survived if it hadn’t been for your kindness.
I just need to show that kindness to this little girl, too.
She needs it now just as much as I did then, if not more. ”
“I’m proud of you,” Vicar John said. “Never doubt it.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s a good and brave thing you’re doing.”
Bridget nodded her thanks and picked up her bag, feeling a wrench in the pit of her stomach. It was hard to leave the orphanage behind.
But she was confident that, right now, Emma needed her more.