Chapter Two
The following Tuesday, Charlotte and Lavinia could hardly keep from checking the window every few minutes for a glimpse of the Clayton House carriage, even though they knew very well Miles could not possibly arrive with Gilbert from the center of Doddington where the Post would drop him off until well after four o’clock.
So eager were they to see Gilbert, that any attempts to pass the time with embroidery was a waste of needle and thread.
Lavinia lamented that she should likely have to pick out all the stitching on a nightgown she was embroidering for Charlotte’s baby.
“I have done such an ill job on this one portion, Charlotte, I declare I would rather throw it in the fire than gift it to you and Frederick in its present condition,” she said, finally setting it aside. “Never mind, I shall repair it later. Oh, where are they?”
As she spoke, the mantel clock in the drawing room struck half past four.
Charlotte rose from the sofa and moved to the window.
She peered down the lane and, after a moment, she gave a small gasp and turned to Lavinia, her eyes alight with excitement.
“They are here—they are here. Let us go tell Father.”
The two left the room, Lavinia rushing ahead to knock on the door of Evan Kendall’s study, just off the entry hall. Unable to wait for his response, she called through the door, “Father, they have arrived.”
Evan Kendall opened the door so quickly, Charlotte suspected he had been standing by the window himself, also looking for a sign of the carriage.
He smiled at Charlotte and Lavinia, and glanced at the long clock in the hall.
“At last—and a few moments earlier than I had anticipated. The Post must have made good time.”
Together, the three exited Clayton House and stood on the broad, covered porch, just as the carriage pulled into the sweep. It had barely come to a halt, when the door, bearing the Kendall family crest of a white rose and stag head, flew open and Gilbert jumped out, his face showing his happiness.
“My dear, dear family,” he cried as he rushed to hug his sisters.
“It seems an age since we have all been together. Father, it is so good to be home. Thank you for sending Miles with the carriage for me.” He shook his father’s hand, then stood, grinning.
Miles came forward after assisting Thomas, their man-of-all-work, with Gilbert’s trunks.
He clapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders.
“We certainly are happy to have you home, brother. There is so much news about the estate to share. Father and I have been working with our tenants on some new agriculture practices that may greatly improve yields. That would be good not only for them, but for us, as well.”
A frown crossed Gilbert’s handsome face. “Why should you need my opinion in such matters? It is not as if I shall inherit Clayton House and have to manage our tenants, Miles.”
There was an awkward pause before Charlotte said, “Yes, of course, that is true. However, you surely may soon have the need to become better acquainted with many of our tenants, Gilbert, in quite a pastoral way. Oh, but I do not wish to say too much at present. Frederick will wish to speak to you, himself, on a very pleasing opportunity for you.”
Lavinia nodded and took Gilbert’s arm. “Indeed, we must not spoil the surprise. For now, let us go inside the house. You must be in great need of refreshment.” She reached up and pushed back a curl of hair that was falling over his forehead.
“How well you look. I declare you become more blond with each passing year, just like your dear mother and sister, Dorothea. I thought your hair would darken with age, but it certainly has not, has it, Father? Does it not look lighter to you?”
“I notice no great difference from when he last was here,” Evan remarked.
“I always have felt blessed to have two children who favor my darker looks, as Miles and Charlotte do, and two who have the light coloring of their late mother. The symmetry of it all quite appeals to me. Now, come, come, let us have some tea and let Gilbert share all his news.”
“Father, if you do not mind, I prefer to take a walk. After sitting so long during my journey, I am in great and immediate need of some exercise. Please—go ahead and enjoy your tea and I will see you all later. We can certainly have a good discourse at dinner.” Without waiting for a reply, he pulled his arm out of Lavinia’s grasp and strode off.
The rest of the family exchanged puzzled glances, then, after a moment, entered Clayton House and moved towards the drawing room. On a side table next to the windows were many platters of food, as well as teapots, the spouts of which emanated steam, proof of being freshly filled.
“Well!” said Lavinia, throwing one arm out towards the display.
“I daresay all the time and attention Mrs. Wilson and I put into making sure Cook prepared a plethora of exceptional treats for this afternoon’s tea was all for naught.
Gilbert shall miss it all. He should have known I would make a fuss over him, and he should have stayed to enjoy it for my sake.
Truly, I am quite vexed.” She walked over to the table, shaking her head.
She picked up a small plate and continued, “Well, we may as well serve ourselves. Perhaps Gilbert will return from his walk in time to partake of some portion before it is cleared away.”
The family went ahead and filled their plates and took cups of hot tea, then sat in the room in which the anticipated celebratory mood was now sorely diminished. They ate and drank in silence for a time before Charlotte spoke.
“I understand your disappointment, Lavinia. You went to such effort and it is a splendid tea. On the other hand, I fully comprehend his desire to stretch his legs. It may well be as you say—that Gilbert will find he does not require a long walk, but only a short one, and he will quite soon join us,” Charlotte said.
At the sound of the door opening, her eyes widened. “Ah. That is likely him now.”
Everyone turned their gaze to see who was arriving, but it was not Gilbert. Instead, Charlotte’s husband, Frederick, entered. He smiled at everyone, his eyes scanning the room. His countenance soon reflected his puzzlement.
“I thought I heard the carriage go past as I was working in my book room,” he said. “I was certain it was Gilbert, so I finished up and hurried over. Where is our brother?”
“Gone for a walk,” Evan said curtly. “Although, he may be back in time to enjoy some of the lovely tea Lavinia arranged. Come help yourself, Frederick. Do not let it be wasted.”
Frederick filled his plate and cup, then sat by his wife.
“I was so in anticipation of hearing about Gilbert’s last few months at Oxford,” he said.
“I enjoyed my own time there so very much and, as my favorite religious studies professor is no longer there, I am eager to know Gilbert’s opinion of the new instructor.
I certainly hope he was able to give Gilbert the firm doctrinal footing he will need to take his orders. ”
“I have no doubt that Gilbert was well instructed,” Miles said.
“Though he must obtain his testimonial from Oxford vouching for his fitness for ordination, first. I do hope he did not forget to ask for that before coming home—it will delay his becoming a curate somewhat if he has to write for it now.”
“But is that not merely the initial step for him?” Lavinia asked. “Charlotte, were you not explaining to cousin Selina and me the other day of the many other requirements?”
“Yes, Frederick explained the process to me. What did you say was next, darling—an examination with the bishop?” Charlotte popped another cream puff into her mouth, closing her eyes in satisfaction.
“Oh, my—Cook outdid herself with these. If I were not so afraid of gaining even more weight than I have already while expecting this baby, I should clean the platter entirely and leave not a one for the rest of you.”
Everyone laughed, and Frederick patted his wife’s hand. “I should not care a whit if you did eat them all, my dear. You had so little appetite during the first few months, it gladdens my heart to see you enjoy your food again.”
“Tell us, Frederick,” Evan said. “What must Gilbert do to obtain his position as your curate?”
“Well, as Charlotte said, he must make an appointment with our bishop and be examined on his proficiency of Latin, his knowledge of Scripture, and his familiarity with the liturgy and all of church doctrine. In addition, Bishop Martin may well have him read a sermon or two to assess his speaking ability—rather a critical portion of the job.”
“Oh, Gilbert should pass that portion with little problem,” said Miles.
“For he was always our first choice to read aloud to us all in the evenings. He has an exceptional speaking voice, in my opinion.” He turned to Charlotte.
“Do you not recall how well he acted out the parts in that dreadful novel about piracy you insisted upon hearing one evening?”
Charlotte laughed. “Indeed, he made a most frightening pirate—it quite gave me bad dreams. And while Gilbert has a good and strong voice, a sermon might dictate using a little less of a theatrical rendition than a novel might. We must not shock the more elderly parishioners,” she said with a wink at her husband.
Miles rose and went to the window. “Where is he? Gilbert is missing out on all this cheerful talk and good food.”
“How did he seem when you picked him up in Doddington, Miles?” Evan asked.
Miles turned back to the others, frowning.
“To tell the truth, Father, he was not the happy Gilbert we all know. Indeed, now that I think on it, whenever I asked him about school, he seemed ill-disposed to speak of it. I put it down to his feeling tired from the long journey, but now, I wonder. Could he be keeping something from us? You do not think he left Oxford in a manner not of his own accord, do you? Might he have been… asked to leave?”
A chorus of no’s came from the room’s occupants.
“I cannot imagine that is the case,” Charlotte said.
“Likely you were correct in your assessment, Miles. He is only fatigued from all the work he has undergone these past few months completing his education. I suggest we give him plenty of time to regain his equanimity these next few days. We must not make him feel so pressured to begin the next stage of his life that he regrets coming home to us, after all.”
There was general agreement to her suggestion.
“Excellent idea, my dear. We should not bring up any issue regarding his taking orders for a week, at the very least,” Evan said.
Turning to Frederick, he added, “I know you are eager to share with him the exceedingly generous offer to make him your curate, Frederick, but let us all give him some time to feel more at home. Indeed, I am most confident it will be only a few days before he informs us entirely on his own of all his hopes for his future.”