LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

off a short time later in high good spirits. Her aunt’s equally spirited mare, once given her head, seemed as delighted as Honoria to begin with a good gallop. Urging the animal on, revelling in the sweet, sun-scented air rushing past her, Honoria savoured the simple joy of being young and outside on a glorious early summer day as if she’d never experienced it before.

      Perhaps, in a way, she hadn’t. Until a month ago, a carefree canter through the countryside had been so ordinary an event she would never have thought to take note of it. How short-sighted she had been to prize it so little!

      She slowed the mare to a trot along the route the carriage had followed yesterday, her anticipation heightening as she approached the village. Though she tried to tell herself she was only mildly curious about him, she found herself hoping that during her time in Sennlack, she would encounter one charming Irish free-trader.

      Chapter Five

      A short time later, Honoria pulled up the mare before the vicarage. She was about to ring the bell when she spied Father Gryffd in the distance, descending the church steps.

      ‘Miss Foxe, how nice to see you,’ he said, walking over to meet her. ‘Won’t you step in to the vicarage and let me offer you some tea?’

      ‘Thank you, Father, but I have several commissions to complete for my aunt. I wished to inquire about primroses. After speaking with Mrs Dawes, I believe Eva Steavens may have found the flowers near your brook.’

      The vicar nodded. ‘I seem to remember a riot of them blooming there when I walked by last week.’

      ‘If there are enough, would you permit me to carry some home?’

      ‘Of course. Help yourself to as many as you wish. I must say, I am glad you stopped by. Might I walk along with you for a bit? It so happens that I’ve been thinking about you.’

      Dread twisted in her gut as the prospect of discovery flashed through her mind. ‘Of course,’ she managed through a suddenly dry throat.

      He fell into step beside her. ‘I have a project in mind I’ve been thinking of implementing for some time. If you could lend a hand during your stay with Miss Foxe, I might be able to begin it.’

      Relief washed through Honoria. ‘What sort of project?’

      ‘Since the old master retired, there’s not been a school in the village. Some of the boys attend grammar school in St Just, but there’s nothing for the girls. I’ve been wanting to establish one in which they might be taught to read and write and do simple sums. Despite what some might think, with mines and manufacturers hiring both sexes, it’s as necessary for females as it is for the boys to understand the words on an employment list or to total their wages correctly. And to read their Bible, of course, should they earn enough to purchase one.’

      ‘Why, Father Gryffd, I believe you are a Methodist!’

      A light flush coloured the vicar’s cheeks. ‘I had the honour of hearing a disciple of Charles Wesley speak once, and was much struck by his message to do as much good to as many as one can. A directive I have tried to implement.’

      ‘Establishing a school for girls would do much good,’ Honoria said, immediately drawn to anything that would better the lot of females. ‘How can I help?’

      ‘I know you are well educated—and kind, judging by your treatment of Eva Steavens. Would you consent to helping the girls learn their letters? I’m sure they would admire you as much as Eva does and put forth their best efforts, in order to earn your approval.’

      She, the bane of several governesses—to become a sort of schoolmistress? She suppressed a giggle at the thought.

      Misinterpreting her silence, the vicar went on quickly, ‘You might think such a task below your station, but truly it is but a variation on the service genteel ladies have always performed in making calls upon the poor.’

      Given her present circumstances, not much would be considered beneath her station, Honoria thought. ‘Indeed, I know it is not!’ she assured him, smiling at the irony of it.

      At this hour, Lady Honoria Carlow, Diamond of the Ton, would usually have been yawning over her chocolate while she flipped through a stack of invitations, all begging her presence at the most select functions offered by Society. She would have dressed, and paid calls and shopped, later stopping each evening at several events where she would be trailed by a crowd of admiring gentlemen and a bevy of ladies anxious to divert a share of those gentlemen’s attentions.

      If anyone had suggested that in a few short weeks she would count it a blessing to fill her idle hours assisting a bespectacled Welsh vicar to teach a passel of grubby Cornish children their letters, she would have laughed herself silly.

      Even though, if one truly considered the matter, helping children learn to read was far more worthy of her time than listening to a buxom soprano sing arias or some infatuated moonling intone bad verses to her eyebrows.

      As worthwhile as attempting to rescue a drowning man, she thought, feeling again the glow of satisfaction that had warmed her after that effort.

      Offering village girls the gift of literacy would give them a bit more control over lives now wholly controlled by men. To females even more dependent for their welfare upon the whims of that gender than she was, that was a precious gift indeed.

      She’d already decided to agree when the thought struck her. ‘Will Eva Steavens be able to attend?’

      The vicar considered the question. ‘I don’t see why not. The other children might tease her, though—or their parents might object.’

      Honoria recalled the disagreeable man at church who had snarled at the child. ‘Are Mr John Kessel’s views widely held?’

      Father Gryffd sighed. ‘I’m afraid they are more widespread than a good Christian would like.’

      Trying to alter deeply ingrained prejudices would be a difficult task, she suspected. ‘What if Eva were to come after the other children went home?’

      ‘We don’t know that she’d be responsive to teaching,’ the vicar reminded her gently.

      ‘But you said yourself you don’t believe her to be a halfwit. Certainly she communicates with her mother, albeit in a way none but the two of them understands. I think she might be very quick to learn.’

      The vicar nodded. ‘She might well be, and you are correct to remind me it is Eva’s welfare, rather than the townspeople’s prejudices, with which we should concern ourselves. I am willing to try, if you are. After you’ve dug your flowers, would you like to accompany me to the Gull’s Roost? Eva’s sister Laurie works there. We could ask her about Eva attending the school while I offer you a mug of cider as my thanks for agreeing to help with the children. And you should still have time to complete your commissions for Miss Foxe.’

      Honoria smiled. ‘That sounds delightful.’

      

      And so it was, after digging up several prime specimens of primroses and having the vicar’s housekeeper wrap them in newsprint for the transit back to Foxeden, Honoria found herself walking with the vicar into the tap room of the Gull’s Roost.

      With its low-timbered roof, wide hearth, kegs of ale by the bar and the luscious scent of roasting meat emanating from the kitchen, the inn reminded her of those she’d visited in the villages near Stanegate Court.

      Mr Kessel hurried over to greet them, calling for the barmaid to bring a mug of ale for the vicar and a glass of cider for the lady. After a few minutes’ chat, Father Gryffd asked if the innkeeper might spare Laurie Steavens for a moment, as he wished to speak with her.

      Mr Kessel stiffened. ‘If you’re wanting to chastise her, I promise you, I got nothing to do—’

      ‘No, not at all!’ the vicar interrupted. ‘I hope you think better of me than to believe I would take you to task for another’s failings.’

      The

Скачать книгу