Page 110 of My Dearest Duke

“Very well.” Rowles sighed, trying to collect his wayward thoughts. “So, Christ’s College is one of the many constituent colleges of Cambridge University. It was established as ‘God’s House’ by William Byngham in 1437. Later, its name was changed to Christ’s College. It houses several different buildings, all with different specialties, and has its own choir, like many other of Cambridge’s colleges.”

“Fascinating. I’ve heard much about it,” Joan noted, looking over the buildings and the lawn between them.

“Here’s the Great Gate.” Rowles gestured to the wide break in the white stone buildings lining St. Andrew’s Street. “Inside is First Court, a well-known garden area.” He paused before the gate and watched Joan’s reaction.

Wonder and excitement filtered through her expression. “Is this where you taught?”

“Yes, would you like to see the room? I can take you through the old chapel as well.”

Joan watched him with her wide green eyes. “I’d love to see it.”

Rowles led her through First Court, along the gravel path so as not to disturb the grass. They took the northwest entrance to the chapel. “And to the right is the Master’s Lodge, and directly behind us is the Mountbatten Room where smaller conferences and the like are held.” He gestured to the side and behind him, then stepped aside for a few people to pass before opening the door to the chapel for Joan.

The white and black tiles along the floor were a stark contrast of light and dark. The old pews that lined the narrow aisle were well worn with hundreds of years of use, the halls of the chapel ghosting a century of music below the hallowed arched ceilings.

“I can feel it.” Joan closed her eyes as she stepped inside a pew and sat. “I can feel the peace here, the echoing of years of worship.”

“It was one of my favorite places. So much of what I taught was based on the Bible, but here…here it all came to life.”

Joan nodded, having no words for what they both felt so deeply.

With a slow breath, she stood and turned to him. “And where did you teach?”

Rowles gestured to the hall that led from the chapel. “This way. I doubt we will be able to go inside—a lecture may be taking place—but I can at least give you a closer look.”

“Wouldn’t they welcome you touring the college? You taught here not too long ago, and…”

“As a former Fellow and a duke, they would likely have the choir sing in response to my presence, should I let them know I was here, but I didn’t.” He shrugged. “I wanted to blend in and focus on my time with you. I wanted you to see the place that is so close to my heart, but I didn’t want any fanfare. Just…you.” Rowles paused before a wide wooden door. “It’s empty. We can go in, if you’d like.”

Joan nodded. Heavy wooden desks lined the creaking floor as they walked into the vacant room. Wide chalkboards lined the farthest wall, and Rowles inhaled deeply of the scent of erased chalk and the knowledge it represented.

How he missed teaching!

He led Joan to the front and pulled out a chair for her behind a student desk. Then he went to the front and looked over the lecture hall. Closing his eyes for a moment, he could picture it filled with students, all hungry for information and eager to understand.

“You miss this,” Joan stated, breaking the silence.

“Yes, but it’s not my season.” Rowles opened his eyes and studied his wife. Yes, he missed teaching, but if he hadn’t resigned, he’d likely not have met her.

Joan’s very presence warmed him. “You know…” She stood and walked toward him, her hand reaching out to grasp his. “When we were becoming friends, I had that same thought. There truly is a season for everything.”

“Ecclesiastes.”

“Yes, and maybe this isn’t your season for teaching, but that doesn’t mean that someday the season won’t make a full circle back. And should that time come, I want you to take that opportunity, Rowles.” Joan cupped his face gently.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Seasons do tend to shift, don’t they? And I must say, this past season had more than its share of difficulties, but it also had its greatest blessing.”

“Oh? And what is that?” Joan asked, tugging his hand toward the door.

“I’m talking about you,” Rowles answered, chuckling as he caught up with her and opened the door leading to the hall.

“Yes, but I delight in hearing you say it over and over,” she whispered as they walked back through the chapel doors, into the courtyard, and to the Great Gate leading to St. Andrew’s Street.

“And where are you taking me now?” he asked, fully knowing the answer.

“You know very well where I’m taking you,” she teased, biting her lip in the way that he loved.

“I do know, but I love hearing you say it over and over again,” he said, casting her earlier words back to her.

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