Tenacious Trents 02 - A Perfect Gentleman (2 page)

Instead of walking further up the aisle to
her regular pew, Grace attempted to slide in to the last bench next
to Mrs. Montgomery. The woman harrumphed and refused to move so
Grace had to step around her to the empty space.

The new minister glanced over his notes and
she studied him. Vicars were usually older, with thin or graying
hair. This one couldn’t be over thirty. Of course, most ministers
probably started out young. She had just never met a vicar this
young before.

Grace glanced over at Mrs. Montgomery and
noted the narrowing of her eyes. She was probably imagining her
daughter marrying such a pillar of the community right now. Too bad
Audrey wasn’t here to dissuade her mother.

Matthew, Vicar Trent to his parishioners,
tried to ignore the knot in his stomach, paused in his sermon and
looked at those gathered in the pews, staring at him. They appeared
attentive, for the moment at least. This was the most important
sermon of his life. Or at least it seemed that way. The dozens who
looked up at him were the very ones who would now seek his
guidance. He could not make an error. This message had to be
perfect, just as he was required to be perfect. So far, the sermon
had been.

The door opened and beams of sunlight bathed
the newly polished wood floor. A young woman stepped into the back
of the sanctuary. Her smile lit the room and for a moment all his
thoughts fled. Deep mahogany hair shone from the sun and arranged
curls fell to her shoulders. Her smile was crooked, the left side
higher than the right, which he found endearing. One eyebrow was
slightly elevated, as if she knew something nobody else did. He
could not take his eyes off of her.

Someone cleared their throat and Matt’s face
grew warm. This was not the time, or place, to be dumbstruck by a
pretty girl.

He gritted his teeth and glanced down at his
outline. He’d just finished with the poor in spirit. Next was
blessed are those who mourn. Matthew looked up and out the windows
to the right of the church. A cemetery lay just beyond. How many in
this room had a loved one resting under the neatly clipped grass
beyond these walls? He knew about mourning all too well. First his
mother, then his step-mother and half-sister, all before the age of
seven.

Matthew closed his eyes and took a deep
breath. He had been doing well until the young woman walked into
the sanctuary and now he couldn’t seem to concentrate on what came
next. He had been nervous, no to be honest, he had been scared
before delivering the sermon in the first church he had been
assigned. He wasn’t ready for this. After years of training he
still wasn’t prepared for the vocation assigned to him. As long as
he could remember he had been told he would be a vicar, and that is
what he became. And, even if he could do something else with his
life, Matthew didn’t know what that would be, so he would be the
perfect vicar, as was expected.

He put his hand in his pocket to caress the
familiar foolscap. He did not need to read it to know what it said.
Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect
.
Matthew 5:45.

Matthew cleared his throat and focused once
again at his parishioners. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they
will be comforted. What Jesus is telling us is that no matter how
deep the sin or how unbearable the loss, He is here to comfort us.
The Lord God will soothe your pain, take away your sin, bring you
comfort. You only have to trust in Him.”

The words he rehearsed and memorized came
back to him and he no longer looked at his outline, but focused on
those in the pews. He had to reach them. Each and every one. Even
the tardy young woman in the back. Yes, his purpose was to be
perfect for God, a perfect gentleman, a perfect vicar, and thus,
make sure each of them was as perfect as they could be. It was a
duty instilled in him from a very young age and he could not
fail.

Though Matthew tried to look to those in the
front as well as the back, he did not glance in the direction of
the very last pew. He could not afford to be distracted again. By
the time he said the final prayer, his hands no longer shook. He
nodded to Mrs. Phillips, and she played the last Psalm of the
morning. Matthew took a deep breath and moved to stand by his seat.
He’d delivered his first sermon in his very own church. Singing the
song from memory, he looked at his flock. The room was packed but
he didn’t deceive himself into thinking it would always be this
way. He was new and positive several of those in attendance came
simply to judge him. Though he wished it were different, he wasn’t
so naive to believe otherwise.

There were older people, some with canes that
sat by themselves or with an equally aged spouse. There were
younger couples with children settled between them, some becoming
more fidgety as the morning grew long, and every age in between. He
remembered having to sit through church as a small boy when the
weather was perfect for running and playing. He used to stare
longingly out the window while Vicar Hinrich rambled on about one
lesson or another. Though he should have paid attention to each and
every word, by the time Sunday arrived, Matthew already knew what
the sermon was by heart. Vicar Hinrich had practiced it in front of
him and as he got older, Matthew had even helped him write a
few.

He glanced to the tardy woman in the back.
Her face shone in happiness as she sang. Why did he look in her
direction? An older woman stood next to her. When she noted his
focus, she glared at the younger one. Matthew was not sure what to
make of it. Was she piqued because the younger one was late? Or,
perhaps the young woman couldn’t sing at all and it appeared she
sang loudly by the joy on her face. It was difficult to appreciate
an off key voice blaring in one’s ear. Perhaps it was the woman’s
joy. A person should show respect and be serious and repentant in a
church, not glow with happiness as if she were attending a
party.

There was no point in speculation. Matthew
knew nothing about the people in this parish, but would soon
enough. Then he would be able to know who liked and disliked who
and why.

When the last verse began, he placed his
Bible on the pulpit and made his way down the aisle and stepped out
into the bright sunshine. Soon the parishioners would exit the
church and he would greet most of them for the first time. His
palms began to sweat anew and he swiped them against his robe.

They came out of church in single file,
waiting in line to meet him. Nobody skipped out through the wide
door to avoid an introduction. Instead, the line continued all the
way down the aisle. How many people were here? The names and faces
swam in his brain. How long would it be before he could remember
each and every one?

After an eternity, the end was in sight and
the older woman from the back stepped forward.

“It was an invigorating sermon, Vicar Trent.
I am so glad you joined our parish.” The woman practically
gushed.

“Thank you, um, Mrs … “

“Mrs. Montgomery.” She beamed. “You must come
by for tea. Or better yet, dinner. As a bachelor, I am sure you
would appreciate a nice meal in the company of others. It is not
good for the digestion to eat alone.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Montgomery.” Each wife and
widow, old and young, had invited him to dinner. At this rate, he
would not have to eat alone for six months.

“Is tomorrow too soon?” she asked.

“I am afraid it is. I am still trying to get
settled.”

A look of disappointment crossed her
face.

“Might I call on you later in the week, Mrs.
Montgomery? We can discuss a convenient evening then.”

Her smile returned. “I look forward to it.”
She stepped away and glanced at the young woman behind her. Mrs.
Montgomery stopped. “I promise that not all of the young, available
women in this parish are as inconsiderate as you might have
witnessed. Why
my
Audrey would never be late to a
service.”

Matthew bit the inside of his cheek. So, the
woman had a daughter. Why did every mother think a vicar needed a
wife? No, he amended his thoughts. Every bachelor needs a wife. “I
don’t recall meeting your daughter. Did she come through
earlier?”

“Oh, no.” The woman waved her hand. “My
Audrey is visiting with her aunt, Lady Hartley.
The
countess
. She will return from London this afternoon, now that
the little season is coming to a conclusion.”

He wondered what Mrs. Montgomery would think
if she knew his father had been an earl until his death back in
January. Until recently, he had been third in line for the title.
But now that Clayton had married, Matthew would move further down
the list, as he should, once Clayton’s heirs were born. No doubt
Mrs. Montgomery’s opinion of him would increase but in truth,
titles meant nothing to him. Souls however did.

Grace bit back a groan. Mrs. Montgomery had
never liked her and she shouldn’t be surprised that the woman
didn’t hesitate to point out her faults to the new vicar. Grace’s
face heated when Vicar Trent raised an accusing eyebrow and looked
in her direction. He had the most beautiful blue eyes. The color of
the sky on a crisp autumn day.

She ignored the older woman and bobbed a
curtsey to Vicar Trent. “I apologize. My chores took longer than I
anticipated this morning.”

Mrs. Montgomery had not moved on and remained
focused on her. “One should not work on the Lord’s Sabbath, Miss
Cooper.”

Could her face become hotter? Grace forced
her jaw to unclench so she could address the older woman, and in as
polite of tone as she could muster. “I will mention that to the
cows, Mrs. Montgomery. Perhaps they could produce twice the milk on
Saturday and then we could all rest on Sunday.”

The woman stared at her, brows knitted in
confusion and Grace couldn’t resist adding, “As when God provided
manna for two days, the day before the Sabbath, for those wandering
in the dessert.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Mrs. Montgomery stuck
her nose in the air, turned around and marched off.

Satisfied, Grace turned back to Vicar Trent.
“I am Grace Cooper and I do apologize for my tardiness. I will try
not to let it happen again.”

“It would be most appreciated, Miss Cooper,
if you did arrive on time.”

Grace was slightly taken aback. She knew it
was not well done of her to be late, but to have the new vicar
chastise her at their very first meeting was a bit disconcerting.
Isn’t a vicar supposed to be approachable, understanding and
forgiving? Vicar Merker had been all of those, exactly what one
expected from a man of the cloth. Vicar Trent’s blue eyes held no
warmth and there wasn’t even a hint of a smile on his lips. This
was not good at all.

“Again, I apologize.” She nodded her head and
stepped away.

Mr. Richards rushed toward her when she
stepped into the shadows of the steeple. “How are you this fine
day, Miss Cooper?”

The man’s grin was wide and he offered her
his arm, which Grace took. She needed to find a way to discourage
his suit, but she did not want to be rude in the process. “I am
well, thank you.”

“And your father? How is he getting on?”

At least Mr. Richards’ question seemed
sincere. Unfortunately, she could not say the same for some of the
others in the village. “Papa is about the same.”

The smile fell from Mr. Richards’ face. “I am
sorry to hear that. There is no hope for improvement?”

It saddened her to say so, but knew she must
face the truth. “It has been two years since the accident. I do not
expect any further improvement.”

“Miracles do happen.”

Grace would love to be encouraged by Mr.
Richards’ words, but gave up hope long ago that her father would
ever speak again. “I pray every day, but have come to accept this
is my father’s future.”