I couldn’t well walk along in broad daylight with a cockstand raging in my trousers and Mr. Perry at my side.
I don’t keep a carriage. My father regards a carriage for a single man like myself an extravagance, especially when much of my parish is accessible on foot. I do keep a gig for instances that truly require a conveyance. When I have a wife, however, I will need a carriage—it is one of the expenses that keeps me from marrying sooner.
These are the pounds and pence that bar me from the marriage, the family, that I want.
At night, I try to lose myself in a novel. Of the chaste variety, of course. But it is no use.
Almost always, I end up taking out my green book. The one that I shouldn’t own. I pull it from beneath the manual by Acton.
The book is the story of a man’s sexual adventures throughout his life. He is everything that I cannot be. It takes him from his youngest encounters to the trysts of maturity.
I read over my favorite scenes, tormenting myself. I imagine doing with Annabelle de Lacey everything that I read.
I am depraved.
I am mad.
I am driven out of my wits.
I fall asleep, somehow, aching with need.
Today I am paying calls, hoping my duties will chase these impossible visions from my mind.
Now, I walk up to one of the cottages on the de Lacey estate.
It belongs to an old couple, a Mr. and Mrs. Ludlow, who live there with their young granddaughter Victoria.
The Ludlows are very elderly and often don’t have enough food to get through the week, so I carry a basket with provisions. The Ludlows and their granddaughter are sweet, but their state generally depresses me. Today, I anticipate their dreary cottage with relief, however. It is probably the one place in the world where it would be impossible for me to become aroused, no matter how much I think of Miss de Lacey.
“Vicar,” Mrs. Ludlow calls as I approach the threshold. “Look at this, Mr. Ludlow. Mr. Saintsbury has come to pay a visit.”
“Good afternoon, vicar,” Mr. Ludlow says. “I’d get up to greet ye, but my leg is giving me a sorry pain again.”
“Aye, it’s true. Whenever it’s about to rain he gets this way. And our Victoria’s feeling poorly too. But I thank God that it is not worse, as we all should. Don’t you agree, Mr. Saintsbury?”
I smile at Mrs. Ludlow’s humble cheerfulness. She is a good woman. It is for the Mrs. Ludlows of the parish that I wish I could be truly pure.
“Many should have your wisdom, Mrs. Ludlow, but I believe few do. I have brought a bit of beef for you, salted already, and potatoes and turnips from my garden.”
“Oh, such generosity! Mr. Ludlow, did you hear?”
“Aye, my love. Mr. Saintsbury, you are very kind.”
“It is nothing. Had I known Victoria was ill, I would have brought her a draught. May I see her?”
At that moment, I hear the clatter of horses and carriage wheels outside.
I glance at the livery and my stomach drops.
I suppress a groan.
No.
No, it can’t be.
I thank God that I am standing in the Ludlow home. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to withstand her presence.
“Oh, heavens, Mr. Ludlow, it is Miss de Lacey. Come to call too. Why we are two of the luckiest old fools in Christendom, with such friends. Mr. Saintsbury and Miss de Lacey at once.”
