Tenacious Trents 02 - A Perfect Gentleman (7 page)

“How long is a cubit?” the little boy from
last week who had been brandishing the pretend sword asked.

“I don’t know, Tommy.” Miss Cooper
shrugged.

A teacher should know this. Matthew stepped
toward the group. “It is approximately one and a half feet.”

They looked up at him in surprise. Miss
Cooper curtseyed and the children took a step back. Were they still
afraid of him?

“Though, the Egyptians used the measurement
from the tip of the middle finger to the elbow.” He held up his arm
in demonstration.

A few of the children did the same, comparing
the length of their arms. “But none of them are the same size.”

“No, they are not, which is why they measured
a man’s arm.”

A few children seemed to study him. “Why
don’t you measure my arm and then measure out the width of the
temple.”

Miss Cooper opened her mouth and her eyes
widened. He suspected his offer surprised her, especially after
last week.

“Becca, do you have string left over?”

A little girl with brown curls rushed
forward. Tommy took the string and measured Matthew’s arm before he
raced off with the older boys. They placed a stake in the ground
and measured until they reached approximately twenty cubits. As
they made their way across the pasture, the remaining children’s
eyes grew wider and wider. They stared in awe when the last stake
was hammered into the ground. Tommy stood with hands on his hips
triumphant. “That is how wide Solomon’s temple was,” he yelled back
to them.

Their eyes kept going from one stake to the
other, as if they were still trying to comprehend the size.

Miss Cooper chuckled. “I told you it was
large.”

“Blimey,” a young boy uttered.

Miss Cooper turned to Matthew. “Thank you for
the explanation. I am sure the children now have a better
understanding.” Happiness sparkled in her emerald eyes, and he
noticed the small dimple at the left corner of her mouth. Her pale,
pink lips puckered nicely too.

What was he thinking?

Matthew offered a quick bow. “It is my
pleasure. Now, I need to return to my work.” He had to leave. Miss
Cooper made him take leave of his purpose.

“Wait,” she called when he turned to walk
away. “How was my father? Did the two of you get on well?”

He was not sure how to answer. Did he want to
alert Miss Cooper to the possibility her father may be suffering
from melancholy? She already worried about him. “I enjoyed my visit
very much. And, your father was not without his opinions.”

“Of that I don’t doubt. He and Vicar Merker,
before the accident, often had lively discussions.”

“I believe he was a bit frustrated at times
since he could only tell me what he was thinking by writing it
out.”

Her face sobered and tears sprung to her
eyes. He hadn’t meant to say anything to upset Miss Cooper.

“He tried to write?”

“Yes. I assumed that is how he conversed when
a nod would not suffice.”

She smiled and swiped a tear. “My father
hasn’t tried to write in a very long time. He gave up in
frustration when he had to write with his left hand.”

“I would have never guessed, though he
struggled a bit.”

“Thank you.” She reached out and grasped his
hand before she quickly let it go, as if realizing her actions were
not proper. “Nobody has given my father reason to try and write
again.”

His heart constricted. He never dreamed his
words could cause a man to attempt something he had given up on and
wasn’t sure how to respond to Miss Cooper. “I am glad he was
motivated.” With that, he took his leave and made his way back to
the parish house.

What was it about Miss Cooper? This morning
he had looked for her and noted she sat in the fifth pew on the
right. At least she wasn’t late this morning, but her presence was
a distraction just the same. As with the week before she sang with
joy and during the sermon her eyes never left him. Granted, they
could have strayed when he looked somewhere else, but when he
returned his gaze to her, she still watched, a smile on her face as
if she was having a very fine time. Didn’t she know the Lord’s
house was a somber place for meditation and the asking for
forgiveness of sins? Surely, her father would have taught her this
proper behavior. Nobody else in the church smiled so why did
she?

During the sermon he found himself consulting
his notes more often than not when distracted by her clear, green
eyes. He was the vicar in this parish and needed to remember his
purpose. It was not to be attracted to a parishioner, no matter how
pretty. He needed to keep that in mind. How could he lead a flock
if his mind was on her?

Mr. Cooper asked that he return soon and
Matthew agreed. However, on reflection he knew he would need to
make those visits when Miss Cooper was not at home. It was safer
for him and his profession if he kept his distance. A gentleman
could not serve the Lord if he was focused on someone else.

Matthew walked into his office and stood at
his desk. The foolscap of Matthew 5:48 stared at him. Beside it he
placed the verse Mr. Cooper had written out for him. Though it was
near indecipherable, Matthew could still read it.
Ecclesiastes7:20,
There is not a righteous man on earth
who does what is right and never sin.
As Mr. Cooper pointed
out, that while Matthew aimed for perfection, he would never be
without sin, nor would those in the parish. Was the older man
trying to deliver a warning about righteousness? Matthew wished he
could have understood better. It was something he needed to keep in
mind, though he would still strive for perfection for the Lord.
Nothing else was acceptable for him and he feared never achieving
it.

He settled behind his desk and tried to
concentrate on next week’s sermon. The children’s laughter carried
on the wind and into his open window. He could not work this way.
He needed silence. Matthew rose and walked out of the room. He
stood in the middle of the hall and wondered where he could move
his office. On this side of the house was the parlor, a library and
his study. Across the hall was the dining room and kitchen. There
were four rooms upstairs, but those were reserved as bedrooms. On
the other hand, he was a bachelor. How many bedrooms did one need?
His decision made, Matthew went upstairs to the room farthest from
where the children played. The bed and armoire could be stored in
the attic and his desk, table and bookshelves would be brought
here. He would no longer hear Miss Cooper and thus be able to
concentrate.

Grace did not know what to make of Vicar
Trent. His sermons were delivered with passion. Though sober and
serious, there was still emotion in his words. She rarely saw him
smile. Yet, he was kind and courteous to her father when others
dismissed him. One thing was clear, he did not like her. It seemed
like he could barely stand to be in her presence and she could not
for the life of her understand his disdain.

She wished it were different for she would
like to know him better. It was important that a parishioner be
able to speak in comfort with her minister, but she was not sure if
Vicar Trent was approachable.

Perhaps if he wasn’t so handsome she would
feel differently. She had even been distracted by his eyes during
the sermon today. When his voice boomed to make a point clear his
blue darkened and when he sang, they became lighter. If she watched
his eyes she would always be able to tell his mood. This revelation
had been disconcerting since they always darkened when he spent any
amount of time in her presence. Since she was happiest when she
sang she assumed Vicar Trent was the same and since his eyes
darkened only during the more forceful portions of the sermon.
Grace came to the conclusion that his eyes darkened around her
because he did not like to be in her presence.

There wasn’t much to be done about it. He had
judged her. She had left poor first impressions and those could not
be taken back. Perhaps in time he would come to view her
differently. She would just need to learn to be less disruptive to
his life and maybe they would become friends one day.

Her stomach plummeted when she reached the
crest of the hill and looked toward her house. There was no
mistaking the carriage in the drive. Uncle Henry, Baron Stillwaite,
had come to call. Grace raced toward the house, afraid for her
father and wondering how long her uncle had been here. It could not
have been all that long for surely Vicar Trent would have mentioned
it to her, wouldn’t he? She didn’t fear Uncle Henry would hurt her
father, not in the physical sense, but he had threatened several
times to see him committed if his condition did not improve,
without ever once visiting to see if he had. If only Draker,
Richards and Thorn hadn’t written, then her uncle probably wouldn’t
have given her and father another thought.

She flew into the house and came to an abrupt
stop when her uncle turned toward her. His face red with rage. “You
lied to me,” he yelled.

Grace refused to back down. “I did no such
thing.”“You said my brother had improved.” He gestured to her
father who sat in a comfortable chair by the fire. “He has
not.”

Grace walked over and stood beside her
father, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “When you last
saw Father, he could not leave the bed. His condition improves
daily.”

“Ha.” The man walked over and helped himself
to her father’s brandy. “He can’t even speak. What makes you think
he comprehends?”

“Because I know he does.” She raised her chin
in defiance.

Uncle Henry drained the liquid in his glass
and poured another. “I should have known better than to leave his
care to you. My brother does not need to be in a house coddled by
women. He needs a hospital where he can be properly taken care
of.”

Grace clutched her father’s shoulder. “You
mean an asylum.” It was her biggest fear. She knew no judge would
stand for her against her uncle as she was simply a female of
twenty years. Her father’s left hand came up and patted the one on
his shoulder.

“I prefer the word hospital, but it would
serve the same purpose.”

She moved to stand in front of her father, as
if by sheer will she could protect him. “I won’t let you take
him.”

“You won’t have much of a choice.”

Panic seized her heart and her breaths came
in shallow puffs. “I will fight you with everything I have.”

The man laughed and emptied his glass again.
“Fight, but in the end I will win. Enjoy your time with your father
for I am off to see the magistrate.”

Tears stung her eyes and she clutched her
skirts. She could not let him get away with this. She had to find a
way to stop him somehow. If only Lord Crews were the magistrate,
but he was not. Lord Brachton, the absent marquess was. She could
only hope he was not at home. Since he had inherited Brachton he
had only been to his estate three times that she knew of, and she
had yet to meet the man. What would he think of her father and this
situation? Was he of a mind as her uncle?

Grace blinked back her few tears and decided
not to worry about that Brachton would or would not do because she
had no control over his decision at the moment and would simply
need to wait. In the meantime, she needed to gather whatever help
she could.

“So this is how the perfect vicar lives.”

Matthew glanced up to find his brother,
Jordan, leaning against the doorjamb. Of all his brothers, Jordan
was the last person he expected to see in his home.

Jordan pulled away and walked into the room.
“It is rather humble, don’t you think.” He settled into a settee.
“What would Father think? I had to let myself in because no servant
answered the door.”

“Due to my profession I live modestly.”
Matthew tried to quell the irritation at his brother’s intrusion
and insults.