“It is so considerate of the vicar to visit,” Lizzy piped in. “Do you often visit all of your parishioners?”
“I do try,” he answered. “But I had occasion to call on Mrs. Wickham today in order to return her basket.”
Lizzy blinked her eyes, all innocence. “And why, pray tell, were you in possession of my sister’s basket?”
“Mrs. Wickham is kind enough to donate the harvest from her garden to the local parish.”
Mr. Wilson shot me an admiring glance. “How commendable.”
“Isn’t it?” Lizzy said with a pert smile. My sister knew perfectly well why the vicar had my basket. I sighed when I realized she was attempting to coax the man into singing my praises in front of my potential suitor. Another echo of our mother.
Mr. Haddad obliged. “Mrs. Wickham delivers fruits and vegetables every week. She has helped to feed many of our poorer families. But,” he added, “I would not have come had I known I would be interrupting.”
I narrowed my eyes. The vicar should be aware that I was entertaining a potential suitor this afternoon because I’d told him as much. But I suppose my schedule was of so little interest to him that he’d forgotten.
Mr. Wilson studied the vicar. “I wonder if you know my great friend Squire Worsley.”
Michael sipped his tea. “I do, indeed. He is the district’s leading landowner and our magistrate. As it happens, he is also responsible for giving me the living at Castleberry.”
“Yes, he is a very influential man,” Mr. Wilson said. “Worsley and I are longtime acquaintances. We attended Eton together.”
It made sense that Michael had sought a living. His father was not a landowner, which meant that each of his sons would have to make their own way. A church living was a permanent job that included a home to live in, income, and some farmland. All in all, the position offered a modest but comfortable life.
Mr. Wilson turned the conversation back to the subject of gardening. “How far apart do you plant your strawberries?” he asked me.
“At least two foot lengths apart,” I answered gamely, in order to contribute to the conversation, “to give them the space they need to grow. Naturally I remove some of the runners throughout the growing season so that they don’t overtake the other plants.”
The conversation continued for almost another hour—to my horror—well past the time for a polite visit. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief when both men finally rose to depart.
I happily closed the door behind them and fell back against it with a long exhale. “I thought they’d never leave.”
Lizzy’s eyes twinkled. “They did stay quite a while.”
“I realize that I have not been in polite society for ages, but when did afternoon calls become so interminably long?”
“They didn’t.” Lizzy shot me a contemplative look. “Mr. Wilson is well known for his courtesy and decorum, and yet he lingered much longer than a polite visit requires. He must be very drawn to you.”
“I have done as you asked.” I went to gather up the tea tray. “I met your Mr. Wilson.”
“Did you like him?”
“Not enough to marry him.”
“Come now, Lydia. You agreed to give him a chance.”
“I did give him a chance.”
“Your vicar also stayed for a very long time.”
I’d noticed that as well. “At any rate, I am relieved that that is over.”
“How long did you say you’ve been reacquainted with the vicar?”
I picked up the tray. “We met twice in the last week. And then again today.”
She followed me into the kitchen. “Did you notice how he looks at you?”
“Notice how who looks at me?”
