Page 16 of Snowbound Regency Christmas
‘Dear Rosie, you know Sir William can bestow the living of this parish on anyone he chooses. He controls it.’
‘Yes, but…’
‘It’s his right, child,’ the vicar said gently. ‘He has chosen to give it to his nephew Milton Keeting, who currently assists in a parish beyond Exeter.’
‘That’s not fair, sir,’ Rosie said. ‘You were our teacher, and…and…your sermons kept me awake.’
‘Well, most of them,’ Rosie said, when the vicar laughed. Andrew saw her lurking smile, and blessed them both for cheering up each other. ‘I mean, I really remember the Beatitudes.’
‘“Blessed are the peacemakers,” dear child,’ Vicar Ewing reminded her.
‘What will you do? Where will you go?’
‘I do not know.’ Andrew heard all the uncertainty. ‘I will have a small stipend, but beyond that…’ He shook his head.
‘I will write to the Archbishop of Canterbury,’ Rosie declared. Andrew knew better than to laugh. He could tell she meant it.
‘Please do,’ Vicar Ewing said. ‘In the meantime, come to Christmas Eve services as usual, Miss… But it is Mrs Hadfield now, eh?’
Rosie stared at him. So did Andrew. Then they stared at each other. ‘Oh, no, sir, he is not… I mean, he is a very nice man, but he is a hero in the Royal Navy and trying to find a widow and…’ She stopped. Andrew did everything in his power not to laugh, because she was adorably hilarious.
‘I am babbling,’ she said with some dignity. ‘Circumstances have made Master Hadfield our Christmas guest.’
‘You are a lucky guest, Master Hadfield,’ the vicar said.
He was calm, unflappable, and yet Andrew saw someone with a knowledge of human nature. And the Keetings, people he didn’t know and didn’t want to, were turning him out? Folly.
‘Iamlucky,’ Andrew said. ‘This sounds like an unexpected Christmas for all of us. Mary Hale would have been one of your parishioners, I assume. Her late husband was my mentor in the sailing business. We learned she is in the workhouse in Ashburton.’
‘I have visited her there. She is keeping house for the workhouse guardian, his wife and four unpleasant children. Nasty little beasts.’
‘What can we do, sir?’ Andrew asked.
‘Get her out somehow.’
‘What can we do foryou, vicar?’ Rosie asked.
‘Alas, not much. Vicar Milton Keeting and his wife are already in town, staying with Milton’s father, who is Sir William’s younger brother.’ He smiled then. ‘You know him, Rosie, the younger brother who soiled his hands with trade and is now far wealthier than the baronet.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘We do enjoy a bit of scandal now and then in Endicott.’
That declaration was followed by a sigh, and a glance at the mantelpiece clock. ‘Time for me to prepare for evensong, my dears. I will also gird my loins. I have been informed that Mrs Keeting is coming here during evensong to measure for curtains. I suggest you hurry home, dear Rosie and Master Hadfield.’
Rosie nodded. Dusk was on them when they left the vicarage. ‘Rough ground,’ she whispered, and put her hand in his. ‘Andrew, this is not the Christmas I bargained on.’
‘Neither did I,’ he said, ‘but what do I actually know of Christmas? I had initially planned to stay at the Drake, eat, read and wait for new uniforms.’
Her voice was soft, and he leaned closer as they walked slowly. ‘I was hoping for a Christmas with time to gather ivy for a wreath, and drape holly on unsuspecting nooks and crannies in the house, and sing carols and eat too much.’
‘You can still do that. I’ll be happy enough to locate Mrs Hale, and prepare myself for that letter from the Navy Board.’
He stood still with the foolish notion that he might be falling in love with Rosie Harte. Surely not. No, no, not when the Navy Board could summon him any day. After all those years at peril on sea, he knew better. He had committed himself to duty until the end of an endless war. Only an idiot would fall in love.
Chapter Ten
Aunt Dorothea had prepared a dinner of roast duck, mounds of potatoes so fluffy and buttery that Rosie swore she saw tears in Andrew’s eyes. There were also green beans strung, dried and reconstituted. But where was her aunt?
‘Where is she, Papa?’
‘Lately, she has been going to her house on Chandler Street once a week,’ he said. ‘She prepares dinner for me before she leaves. All these years…she misses her home.’
