Chapter 2
The blacksmith was true to his word and had expedited the repair of the carriage wheel.
Money was the great equalizer, and Peter was back on the road the next day and would arrive at St. Mary’s on time.
He sighed in relief. The last thing he wanted was to start off his tenure as vicar by showing up late.
That wouldn’t set a very good example for the parishioners when it came to being punctual and honoring one’s commitments.
It took half a day to reach the vicarage. When John finally halted the horses, Peter was pleasantly surprised to find the curate waiting to greet him in front of a lovely stone cottage.
Peter opened the door, jumped down from the carriage, and walked to the young man.
“Mr. Wallings, welcome to St. Mary’s. I’m Edward Randolph, the curate for St. Mary’s parish.”
“Good day, Mr. Randolph. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Peter said with an outstretched hand. The curate was young, perhaps three and twenty, and had a serious air about his slender frame.
The curate looked a little surprised by the gesture but took his hand in a firm handshake. “Everything is prepared for you, sir. Please come this way.”
Peter wondered if the last vicar had been less than friendly with the curate. That wasn’t his style. He was pleasant and welcoming with everyone and vowed to continue his friendly ways as he followed the young man into the house.
The cottage was bigger than he’d expected, much more spacious than his small boarding house room in the London parish.
Edward gave him a brief tour of the parlor, study, and kitchen on the first floor and the three bedchambers on the second.
“Mrs. Paulson comes daily to cook, and there’s Sally, a maid of all work, who comes in to clean and do laundry twice a week.
There’s also stables behind the garden, but when the last vicar died, the horse and carriage were removed.
I’m sorry to say there isn’t even a cart left for your use. ”
“Were the carriage and horses owned by the parish or the vicar himself?”
“As I never saw the ledgers of expenses, I can only conclude they were the vicar’s personal possessions, and when he passed, they were returned to his family.”
“I see. And where do you reside, Mr. Randolph?” Peter asked, noticing a valise by the door.
“I shall be living with my sister. She’s suffered some hard times recently with the death of her husband.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that. You’re more than welcome to stay here if, at any point, that would be helpful to you. I assume you’ve been living at the vicarage as you waited for my arrival.”
Edward nodded. “Yes. I’ve been here since the last vicar passed away, but now I think my place is with my sister.
With three little ones to take care of, she could use a bit of help.
I assume you do not object to that arrangement?
Rest assured, I will, of course, attend to all my duties.
The Sunday sermon is already written and on your desk. ”
“Thank you. I shall look it over. Mr. Randolph, I commend you for taking care of your sister. It’s very important to help where we can, especially when it involves family.
I shall visit her soon to offer whatever support I can.
We can discuss more about your duties soon.
Go and be with your sister for now. I shall be fine for the next few days. ”
“That is very kind of you. I shall let you settle in,” Mr. Randolph said, handing Peter a set of keys. “These are for the vicarage and the church.”
“Thank you. My best to your sister. Good day, Mr. Randolph.”
After the curate left, John brought in his trunk. “Where do you want this, Mr. Wallings?”
“In the large bedroom upstairs at the back of the house. Thank you, John.”
Peter felt a little melancholy, knowing this was probably the last time he’d see the family driver for a long time. John had been serving them since Peter was a child. He followed the man upstairs and into the bedchamber. “You can put it at the end of the bed.”
John nodded and put the chest down. “Will there be anything else, Mr. Wallings?”
“Would you care to stay and rest for the night?”
The driver shook his head. “That’s very kind of you, sir, but no. I’d best get back on the road. I’ll stop at that inn again to rest the horses. I’m expected back in London in three days’ time.”
“Of course. Let me help you get those horses watered before you go,” Peter said, walking down the stairs with the driver following. He went out the front door and around the side of the cottage. “Here it is,” he said when he spotted the well.
“Much appreciated, Mr. Wallings. I’ll take care of the horses and be on my way.”
“Thank you again for your excellent service. Safe travels, John,” Peter said, extending his hand.
“Good-bye, Mr. Wallings. It’s been a pleasure serving you,” John said, giving Peter’s outstretched hand a firm shake.
After John left, Peter went around the back of the cottage to see the garden.
His unpacking could wait a little longer.
He went around to the back of the cottage and was pleasantly surprised to see that the curate had been an excellent caretaker of the vicarage.
Besides a flourishing vegetable garden in one corner, there were numerous bushes and flowers, and a bench for contemplation at the far end of the garden before the path to the stables.
He looked forward to continuing Mr. Randolph’s excellent work and, if necessary, adding more vegetables.
There was no sense in letting any of the villagers go hungry when there was ample space to add more plants.
He would consult with the curate to see what folks needed.
He had no idea how long it had been since the last vicar was in residence, but neither the flowering garden nor the vegetable plants had been neglected. He would make a point of telling Mr. Randolph what a wonderful job he’d done.
Now that he was in residence, Peter hoped he could help the curate smile more.
He seemed like such a serious young man.
Peter believed that one could be serious about God and religion while also enjoying life.
A balance of all things was what he strived for.
He wasn’t a fire-and-brimstone kind of vicar.
There was no need for such teachings, in his opinion.
He wanted people to come to church and be inspired to live a good Christian life with kindness and generosity, rather than being cowed by harsh teachings that warned of eternal damnation if they deviated from the righteous path.
He heard the knocker bang down and hurried back through the house to see who’d come calling. Opening the door, he saw an older woman, perhaps in her forties by the strands of gray at her temples, standing there with a large basket slung over her arm.
“Good day, madam. How may I be of help?”
“Good day to you, sir. I’m Mrs. Paulson.”
“Ah, yes. Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Paulson. I’m Mr. Wallings. The curate told me you were the cook here.”
“It’s nice to have a vicar again. We all love Mr. Randolph dearly, but the man does have a tendency to go on and on with his sermons.”
Peter chuckled. “Well, I’ll be sure to stick to the relevant points then. Wouldn’t want the parishioners falling asleep on me, now would we?”
Mrs. Paulson blanched. “I’m terribly sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have spoken about Mr. Randolph in such a way. It was badly done of me. He’s a dear, sweet man, just a little too serious, but so good to his sister.”
“Mrs. Paulson, do come in, and do not worry, your secret is safe with me.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wallings.” Mrs. Paulson entered the cottage and went about preparing dinner with the efficiency of a general.
Peter thought it best to stay out of her way, so he went upstairs to his bedchamber to unpack his trunk.
He hung up both of his black cassocks in the armoire to let the wrinkles fall out, along with a couple of jackets and waistcoats.
He preferred to wear his cassocks most of the time, but when traveling in one of them over long distances, he had a tendency to get very warm.
There was also a chest of drawers in the room, where he stored the rest of his clothing.
By the time he returned to the kitchen, Mrs. Paulson had laid out a cold supper of chicken, cheese, and two slices of warm, thick bread, along with a steaming cup of tea.
“Mr. Wallings, we had no idea what time you would arrive today, so this is all I prepared for this evening’s meal.
However, the bread is fresh from the oven. ”
“There’s nothing I like more than fresh bread. Thank you, Mrs. Paulson.”
“I shall return tomorrow to cook you a proper meal. By the way, my sister, who is the cook at Dandridge Manor, tells me that the staff has been working nonstop sprucing up the place in anticipation of Lord Fletcher’s arrival.”
“Oh?” He’d had no idea that Lord Fletcher’s country home was in the area. He would add him to the list of people he wanted to visit.
“He’s come with the family. My sister is thrilled to have people to cook for besides the few staff in residence.”
“Well, I’ll be sure to pay them a visit once they get settled.”
“I’ve also left you some sugar for your tea. If you require milk, tell me the day before, and I’ll be sure to bring some when I come.”
“Thank you. Sugar is fine.”
“Do you need anything else, Mr. Wallings?” Mrs. Paulson asked.
“No. You’ve been most kind.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Good day, Mr. Wallings,” Mrs. Paulson said, picking up her basket and letting herself out.
After the cook left, Peter ate his dinner, thinking about the twists and turns his life had taken. His early childhood had been filled with wonderful memories of playing with his older brother, George. But George was three years older, and when he turned thirteen, he was sent away to Eton.
That’s when Peter’s whole world changed.
He’d been devastated to lose his best friend and soon came to realize that being the second son meant his father wanted little to do with him.
It was a sobering lesson for a young boy to learn, and one he never forgot.
His mother doted on him, which somewhat eased the sting of his father’s neglect, but Peter had been determined to earn his father’s love.
He studied diligently at all his lessons, and his tutors were quite pleased with him, but his accomplishments didn’t seem to matter to his father.
The earl barely acknowledged his existence.
His father was a harsh man to most people, except for his beloved firstborn son.
The earl loved George above everyone else, even his wife.
Peter didn’t begrudge his brother’s preferential treatment because he was the heir to the earldom.
Whenever George came home from school, he always made time to be with Peter, and they had the best time together.
However, as George grew older, he came home less and less frequently, and when he did join them for the holidays, their father claimed most of his brother’s time for estate business.
After years of the earl’s indifference, Peter stopped trying to win his father’s love.
He became more reserved and withdrawn, preferring to be outside in nature and away from the house as much as possible.
The one thing that had never changed as he grew and matured was his passion for the natural world.
He spent hours in the woods surrounding their country home.
One of his tutors had also been a lover of nature and encouraged the boy to learn as much as possible about the world by offering several books that identified different plants and trees.
Peter had devoured those books. To this day, it was still his favorite subject.
When Peter turned thirteen, he was ecstatic to finally be allowed to join George at Eton.
George looked out for him for the next two years, keeping the older boys from bullying him, which was common at Eton, until George went off to university.
Eventually, Peter followed in George’s footsteps, but although they remained close, they never again shared the strong bond they’d had when they were children.
George had his friends, and Peter had a few close friends of his own, but he was not as gregarious as his brother, so it was harder for him to make friends.
The friendship he shared with Lord Easton, the heir to the Earl of Devon, was the one he cherished the most, and it had endured even after they graduated from university.
In fact, it had been Easton who had insisted that Peter join him at some ton events at the end of the Season.
Peter was reluctant at first, but his friend was insistent, and Peter did want to spend some time with him.
It was during one of those events that he’d met the new Lord Fletcher and his wards, most notably, Miss Grace Parker.
The coincidence that Dandridge Manor was located within St. Mary’s parish made him happy. He was eager to see Miss Grace once again and planned to pay his respects to the family tomorrow.
“I shall see you tomorrow, Miss Grace,” he said to no one in particular. That night, he went to sleep with a smile on his face thinking about visiting her soon.