Chapter Thirty-Five #2
No, best to not mention any of that conversation to the young man sitting so politely in his study with him now.
Evan cleared his throat. “Now, as to the particulars. The living pays one hundred twenty pounds a year, but there are no glebe lands for you, as ours is not a large estate. However, the rectory is very nice and commodious—five bedrooms, two sitting rooms, and space enough for a kitchen garden. And, of course, you will earn extra money from baptisms, weddings, and so forth. Does that suit?”
“Very much so. But, sir, I feel I cannot go any further until a few things are made quite clear between us. Tell me—are you aware of your daughter Charlotte’s…
uh…relationship with my elder brother, Robert?
For if you are unaware of the romance that seemed to blossom only to unexpectedly wilt, I feel I must inform you of it.
I cannot take this living without your knowing of the pain Robert has caused Miss Kendall.
You may, in fact, wish to withdraw your offer after I give you the particulars. ”
Evan waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, yes, I am aware there was a mild flirtation this summer, if that is what you are referring to, Mr. Morton. However, I have been assured by my daughter that any fault in the alleged romance is hers, and she likely had allowed herself to have greater expectations than your brother ever truly demonstrated.”
Frederick pressed his lips together firmly as he considered how to reply.
“I wish I could believe that was the case, sir. Miss Kendall is being too kind, in my opinion, in her report of my brother’s conduct.
It is my firm belief that any expectations your daughter had were not a misunderstanding or misinterpretation.
She is the sad victim in this too-short romance, and Robert’s behavior was neither right nor gentlemanly.
And frankly, sir, that is why I nearly wrote a letter of refusal to your kind offer—one that I may still turn down.
For you see, I would hate for my presence to be a constant reminder to your daughter of the heartache she endured when my brother so swiftly eloped. ”
“Ah. Well, I thank you for your explanation, but I know my daughter perhaps a bit better than you do. She will rally from her dashed expectations in due time. Should Charlotte be, in fact, nursing a wounded heart—and I do not believe she is—then seeing you would surely improve her spirits. In all truth, that is another reason why I am offering you the living here. She spoke to me of the sincere pleasure she took in your company—your mutual love of music and books, and of your giving her drawing lessons. She clearly regards you as a friend, and I am hopeful she will be happy to renew that acquaintance.”
Evan set his tea cup down, smiled, and stood. “Now, before you make up your mind for all and good about this living, do come with me to see the church and rectory.”
Frederick nodded and followed Mr. Kendall out of the study. As they walked through the entry hall, Frederick could hear someone playing a pianoforte down the hall. He paused to listen.
Evan noted his interest. “Charlotte has spent many hours in the drawing room practicing since coming home—that is, when she was not nursing me through my illness. I do not believe I would have survived had it not been for her tender care.”
The music abruptly halted. “Papa?” Charlotte called. “Are you finished with your meeting?”
The voice was coming closer. “I wished to ask you—” She broke off as she entered the hallway and saw who stood beside her father. “Mr. Morton. What a surprise,” she said faintly. After another moment, she collected herself and gave a small curtsy.
Frederick bowed to her and opened his mouth to reply, but Evan spoke first.
“Ah, Charlotte. Mr. Morton is here to discuss taking the living at Clayton Parish. We were just about to walk over to inspect the church and parsonage. You spoke so highly of his abilities that I was convinced of the good sense of offering the vacancy to him. And, should he take it, I believe he will be most happy to continue your drawing lessons. I know that will please you, because you have shown me how much progress you have already made under his short tutelage when you stayed with Dorothea.”
Charlotte and Frederick just stared at each other, both unable to speak a word. Observing them, Evan suppressed a smile and clapped a hand on Mr. Morton’s back.
“Let us begin our tour, shall we, Mr. Morton?” he said, guiding the curate toward the front door where he picked up his cane and then turned back to his daughter.
“My dear, our guest will be joining us for dinner. Perhaps you could do me a favor and ensure that Cook has a good menu planned. I did not know what exact day to expect Mr. Morton, you see, so I could not give her any advance notice for having company to dine. You will see to that, please? Thank you.”
Charlotte managed to choke out a weak, “Of course, Father,” as she stood in the hallway, watching the two depart. They did not see, then, how, after the front door closed behind them, Charlotte’s knees gave way, and she suddenly was sitting on the parquet floor.