Vicar's Daughter Read online

  The past year had been hard on Nicholas. Because of his physical injury during the war, not to mention the mental injury his mind and soul had suffered, he’d been filled with bitterness and self-pity. He wasn’t proud of how he spent the last year of his life, living a less than sterling existence—frequenting places no gentleman would enter—but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. It was as though he were on a path to self-destruction and couldn’t seem to stop.

  Which is why he returned to Kenswick Hall, hoping to shut himself away from the world, to find some sort of peace in his solitude. He felt so alone, with his father dead and his brother missing at sea.

  Perhaps he was getting his just reward. He felt no hope for himself—no light at the end of his long, dark tunnel.

  For exactly four weeks and nineteen days, his mood had grown darker, his attitude so beastly even his servants stayed clear of him.

  And then Miss Wakelin climbed his tree, and for the first time in a very long time, he found himself concentrating on someone other than himself.

  Perhaps it was because she acted so shockingly. He found himself admiring her daring to have climbed his tree just to save a cat. He had to admit, though, it was rare to see a gentleman’s daughter, country-bred or no, so lacking in feminine graces. The vicar had always seemed so capable a person when it came to taking care of the parish. How did that capability not extend to the rearing of his only daughter?

  It was a shame really, because Nicholas had to admit she was quite pretty, despite the wild red color of her hair. How would she ever attract a marriage offer behaving as if she were a child?

  Not that it was any of his business, Nicholas reminded himself as he stepped onto the balcony overlooking his front lawn. He’d forget about her soon enough and his solitary world would go back to normal.

  “My lord,” Pierce spoke from the doorway, breaking him from his thoughts. Nicholas turned, noticing that his butler regarded him with the same wary expression most of his staff had adopted around him.

  “Yes, Pierce, what is it?” he asked briskly, irritated he was interrupted at all.

  “Sir Walter Keen, the solicitor of your brother’s estate, is here to see you. I’ve shown him to the library.”

  Nicholas replied curtly, “I believe my orders were to turn away anyone who called. You know I don’t receive visitors.”

  He was surprised when Pierce remained in the doorway, nervously clearing his throat. “I beg your pardon, my lord, but I believe that you must see him.”

  Nicholas raised a haughty dark eyebrow. “Must, Pierce?”

  “Sir Walter’s word, my lord.”

  He wondered if he hid in the attic, would he be able to get through the day without interruptions? “Then tell him I’ll be right down.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Nicholas opened the door to the library and was surprised to find not only Sir Walter, but also a woman, whose plain dress made him guess she was a servant of some sort. It was the baby she held, however, that made Nicholas uneasy.

  Sir Walter, a tall, broad-shouldered man, impeccably dressed, stood up as the earl entered. “I’m so sorry for this inconvenience, Lord Thornton, but a matter of great importance has arisen.”

  Nicholas glanced over at the woman with the child as she stood and gave him a brief curtsy. He looked back to the solicitor. “It must indeed be an emergency that you had to bring your child along,” he commented, before remembering Sir Walter was not a married man.

  Sir Walter, apparently, was not one to be intimidated by class or sarcasm. He looked directly into the earl’s eyes and told him what Nicholas did not want to hear. “This is not my baby, Thornton. He is your brother’s child. Tyler Douglas Thornton he is so named, and now he is yours.”

  Nicholas looked with horror at the tiny pink infant swaddled in a blanket. “Why cannot Ann, my late brother’s wife, care for the child?”

  “I regret to inform you that Mrs. Thornton did not make it through childbirth. Of course, you know both her parents are deceased as well as any close relative, and since the baby seems to be your sole heir at the moment, the guardianship for the child falls to you, my lord.”

  “What about my aunt, Lady Wilhelmina Stanhope? She has a nice home in Stafford, and I’m sure—”

  “And she is never there, my lord. She is abroad seven months of the year.” He gave the earl a pitying look. “I’m afraid there is no one else.”

  “Have you utterly lost your senses, Man? You cannot bring an infant and just drop it on my doorstep, expecting me to look after it. I know nothing about raising children!” he exclaimed. How could he be responsible for a helpless, innocent infant?

  “I’m sure you can find a competent nanny to take care of the child. I’ve a list here, in case you need one.”

  Thornton took the list, crumbled it, and threw it across the room. “This is what I think of your list!” he said, taking a menacing step toward the attorney.

  Sir Walter, maintaining his mild expression, sighed. “I hope, for your sake, you’ll be able to find that list once I’m gone. You’ll need it, I’m sure.”

  “I think not, since I’m going to make sure that. . .that child goes with you!” He glared at the man accusingly. “There is no possible way I can take care of this child!”

  “I find one does what one must when situations arise, my lord.” With that, Sir Walter walked past Nicholas to where the butler stood with his hat and coat ready.

  Nicholas stared at the back of the retreating man with unbelieving eyes. “You cannot mean to leave, Sir!”

  “I do and I must. I have other matters to attend to.” He donned his hat and nodded at the woman.

  Before Nicholas could bark out another protest, the woman pushed the squirmy bundle into his arms and walked out with Sir Walter.

  “Good day, Lord Thornton,” the solicitor said with a calmness that made Nicholas seethe.

  “Now see here. . . !” His voice drifted to a stop when he realized the solicitor had already left the room.

  “I cannot believe this!” he growled under his breath as he started toward the door.

  But Pierce, acting out of character, boldly stepped into the doorway, blocking his path. “Shall I see the nursery is made ready for young Master Tyler?”

  Nicholas felt a rising panic take over his body. “The only thing I want you to move, Pierce, is your body from my doorway!”

  “For what purpose, my lord? The young master is a Thornton. Should not the best place for him be with his closest Thornton relative?”

  “You overstep your boundaries, Pierce.”

  The old butler simply nodded his head calmly. “Yes, my lord.”

  Nicholas turned away from the butler and went to the window. He watched as Sir Walter’s coach pulled away from Kenswick Hall, leaving him with a burden he could not even begin to fathom.

  However, he could not deny Pierce’s words. The babe was a Thornton and, therefore, since Nicholas had no desire to marry, the future Earl of Kenswick.

  If there is a God, he thought, He surely must be punishing me for all of my misdeeds.

  Almost fearfully, he turned his attention to the child. What did Sir Walter call him? Tyler Douglas.

  The baby looked at him at that moment and made a cooing sound. He was so tiny, so vulnerable—so innocent. Nicholas may have thought having a baby shoved upon him was highly unfair, but as he looked at those trusting blue eyes, he realized what was most unfair was that the babe should have him for a surrogate father. He, who could not even manage his own life, would now be in control of someone else’s.

  Even in war he’d not been so terrified.

  He looked around and saw that his staff had gathered at the doorway, joining his rebellious butler. They exchanged nervous glances, but they didn’t move.

  One of the younger maids, whose name eluded Nicholas at the moment, shyly walked into the room. “Pardon me, m’lord, but I believe I know someone who might can ’elp you find a good nanny for the little one there.”<
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  Nicholas sighed. “Then by all means find this person and send her to meet me right away.” He winced at the desperation he heard in his voice.

  How could something so small disrupt his life so thoroughly?

  “Right away, m’lord,” she said, and, after a quick curtsy, hurried from the room.

  Noticing the group of staring servants, Nicholas scowled. “Well, don’t just stand there as if there were nothing to do! Someone tell Jennings to ride out to Stafford and fetch my aunt if she is there. And would somebody please take this smelly child. . .” His voice drifted off when he realized no one had stayed to honor his last request.

  With a defeated sigh, he turned back to the window thinking his life could not possibly get any worse.

  ❧

  For three days, Christina had not been herself. Usually she would go about her business, looking after her sick animals, helping her father with his duties as vicar, as well as researching different topics for her father’s sermons. But for three days she could not concentrate on anything. She tried to do needlepoint but kept knotting the thread. She sat to play the piano but hit so many bad notes her father made her stop.

  It was all his fault. That dreadful man, the Earl of Kenswick.

  Oh, she knew their meeting had been all her fault initially, but when she’d been turned away from his door, when she’d called on him, not once, but twice—well, that just infuriated her! To think she’d actually been feeling sorry for him. His butler informed her he wasn’t receiving anyone, but she knew he must have given special instructions not to allow her inside the hall. How could he know she wanted to speak to him? She’d wanted only to invite him to church and perhaps help him see that there is a God after all.

  Her other reason was to inquire about his cat. Because of talent for mixing herbs, most folks in the area brought their sick pets to her; she wanted to offer her services in case his cat ever needed her.

  It was a strange gift, to be sure, but one that was often needed in their small village, whether it a limping workhorse or a sickly hound. The last three days, however, even her animal services had suffered, and she hadn’t been able to cure Mrs. Walden’s cat from a bout of sick stomach!

  Why Thornton’s blatant snubbing hurt Christina so much, she had no idea. Maybe it was that she just wanted to make up for her past mistakes. Maybe it was that she wanted to encourage him to attend one of her father’s services so he could hear about how God loved him.

  Maybe you just find him attractive! She quickly dismissed the thought since, of course, she’d never be attracted to such a rude, boorish man.

  No, she was sure her motives were of a noble nature. He was a man made bitter because of war and the death of his father and brother. That was why he’d developed such a terrible reputation—why he fought those duels and broke off with his fiancée.

  She would help him. Somehow, some way, she would show him God could truly give him a new life—a brand-new heart.

  And that is what Christina prayed. She asked God to open a door of opportunity for her to be able to help Lord Thornton.

  A knock sounded at her door, and Mrs. Hopkins, their longtime housekeeper, walked into the parlor where Christina sat. “Miss Cooper to see you, Ma’am.”

  “Polly! Do come in.” Christina welcomed the girl with a smile as she walked into the room. “It’s only ten in the morning. Did Mrs. Donaldson give you the day off?”

  Polly smiled shyly at Christina as she tucked a wayward strand of hair back into her white ruffled cap. “Oh, no, Ma’am. I don’t work for Mrs. Donaldson anymore. I found a post as a ’ousemaid at Kenswick ’all. That’s why I’ve come ’ere.”

  Christina couldn’t have been more surprised. Was this God’s answer to her prayer? “Is there something I can help you with?” she queried, trying to appear nonchalant.

  “Yes, Ma’am. You see, Lord Thornton is in need of a nanny, and I knew if anyone in the county knew where to find one, it would be you.”

  Christina could do nothing but stare at the young girl. Finally, she found her voice. “I beg your pardon, did you say nanny?”

  The man was a bigger cad than even Helen thought!

  “Yes, you see, Lord Thornton’s sister-in-law died in childbirth just a few days ago, leaving behind the young master. He was brought to Kenswick ’all a few moments ago, since the earl is ’is nearest relative.”

  Perhaps she’d been a little hasty in judging the man, Christina thought guiltily. If he were willing to raise the child, then surely he couldn’t be all that bad.

  “Lord Thornton tried to give him back to the man who brought ’im. You should ’ave seen ’im, Ma’am. I’ve never seen the man in such a temper, although I’ve ’eard ’e’s rarely in an agreeable mood. But when the earl tried to run after the man, the butler stopped ’im, reminding ’im of ’is duty.” She widened her eyes and shook her head slowly. “ ’E was none too ’appy about it though, truth be told!”

  So maybe he was a little bit of a cad, after all.

  “Well,” Christina said, standing to her feet. “We must see to this poor infant. I will endeavor to find a nanny, but in the meantime I will see that he is sufficiently taken care of.”

  Polly eyed her warily. “I’m not sure the earl would like that, Ma’am. ’E doesn’t allow anyone ’sides us servants into Kenswick ’all. And sometimes I think ’e’d rather we would just disappear and leave ’im alone!”

  Christina marched to the door, pulling the bonnet on her head as she went. “How well I know, Polly. But no matter. I will see to the infant, and Lord Thornton will just have to abide me!”

  In an uncharacteristic fit of vanity, she checked her reflection in the hall mirror. She was wearing one of her better morning gowns, with its fashionable high waist and rounded neckline, the light blue color a perfect complement to her complexion. Her hair was a bit messy since, as usual, curly strands had come loose from her topknot, but at least with a bonnet she would look presentable.

  As she finished tying the ribbon to her bonnet, Christina cast a quick look upward and smiled. “You not only work in mysterious ways, Lord, You work in a most hasty manner!”

  “What’s that, Ma’am?” Polly asked.

  “Oh, nothing, Polly. I was just thinking aloud,” she replied. And as she marched toward Kenswick Hall, she felt somehow empowered, as though she’d been handed a mission only she could fulfill—a crusade to lead a man out of his self-indulgent life and into the light.

  Three

  Christina and Polly entered Kenswick Hall from the servants’ entrance and walked through two long hallways before they entered the enormous main hall.

  Since she was a little girl, Christina had loved the home with its grand chandeliers and richly dyed carpets. Many times over the years, the former earl and his wife had invited them over for tea or for a small dinner party, and Christina relished the memories of how she’d felt among the tall marble columns and antique tapestries. Huge windows on either side of the door allowed sunlight to pour in and caused the crystal chandeliers to scatter splashes of color throughout the room.

  It had truly been a beautiful and happy home.

  Now it was a sad and dismal one, because other than the lamps set about the room, every piece of furniture was covered with white dust cloths. “What is all this, Polly? It looks as though the house is not in use!”

  “That’s the way the master ’as ordered it, Ma’am. ’E says no use in showing off furniture no one’s going to see,” Polly answered matter-of-factly as she stopped suddenly at a huge double door, causing Christina to bump into her.

  “Oh! So sorry.”

  “It’s all right, Ma’am.” Polly lifted her hand to knock on the door. “I’ll just let ’im know you’re ’ere.”

  “Wait!” she said suddenly as she thought of how she’d been turned away from the hall in the last few days. “Did you tell him you were bringing me back here to the hall?”

  Polly shook her white-capped head. “No, Ma’am.
I just said I knew someone who could ’elp ’im.”

  “Hmm,” Christina said. “If that is the case, you’d do well to let me go in first.” Polly opened her mouth to disagree, but Christina shook her head. “If you announce it is I you’ve brought to aid him, then I’m afraid he might not see me.”

  “But, Ma’am,” Polly tried to argue, but Christina ignored her and opened the door herself.

  The scene that greeted her was one not even her imagination could have conjured up. There he was—the stern, unsmiling man she’d met earlier, the brooding creature who turned away visitors, the same person who ordered that dust cloths remain on all his furniture—trying to change a diaper.

  He was so focused on his task, he did not even hear her enter the room, and she took the opportunity to study him. No longer was his dress impeccable. His dress coat had been thrown over a chair, so he was wearing only his unbuttoned waistcoat, linen shirt, and fawn-colored britches. His cravat was untied and rumpled, and his dark curls looked as if he’d been running his hands through them.

  “I do not understand how this simple little cloth could be so difficult to put on you,” he muttered to the baby, his fingers fumbling with the thick material. “I daresay someone should devise a simpler way to go about this!”

  “Well, if you could accomplish that, I promise every mother in England would rise up, throw King George off his throne, and put you in his place,” she announced as she walked in his direction.

  The earl’s head snapped up at the sound of her voice, and a scowl creased his dark features. “First my tree and now my house. Tell me, Miss Wakelin, do you intrude on everyone’s privacy here in Malbury, or do you single me out in particular?”

  “Actually, my lord, I’m not intruding, I was invited.” She pointed to the desk where the baby lay, waiting for him to finish the job. “I believe if you turn the cloth the other way, you’ll find it will fit much better.”

  He threw her another dark look before focusing on the child. He did as she told him and in no time had the diaper fastened snugly.

  He looked a little bemused at what he’d just accomplished. “How could you know such a thing?”