The house was positioned at the peak of a hill, appropriately named for the multitude of oak trees behind it. The facade was grey stone with white-trimmed windows. The plot of land set so far above level ground was not envied, mostly because of traveling inconvenience, so Aunt Ruth’s late husband had received it for a very inexpensive price. But the price, I knew, was not the only thing that had enticed her to purchase the home. Living on a hill would allow her to do what she loved most: put as many people beneath her as possible.
I had only met my late uncle once during my childhood, but I knew that he and my mother had been as close as any two siblings could be. We had originally been left to his care in ourparents’ will, but they had neglected to ammend it after his death just a year before their own. As his widow, Aunt Ruth had been the one to grudgingly accept the responsibility. In her mind, she was a saint, a victim, and she never let me forget how burdened she was because of our misfortunes. She had married my uncle out of desperation at the age of thirty, and they never had any children of their own. She never loved my uncle, or my parents.
I was fairly certain she had never loved anyone.
When I reached the top of the hill, I took the doorknob and turned it, but the door wouldn’t move. I pushed a little harder, opening a crack between the door and frame to reveal the glowing faces of my brothers as they pressed themselves against it.
“You two are atrocious, do you know that?” I teased.
“Yes,” Peter and Charles exclaimed in unison, erupting yet again into high-pitched laughter. I had played this game with them before, but today, I lacked the energy. My head still spun with regret over my insults toward Mr. Coburn. Reality had settled in, sending chills over my arms despite the heat of the day. I was in deep trouble.
I covered my face with my hands, drawing a deep breath. Perhaps Aunt Ruth wouldn’t hear of the incident. I peeked between my fingers. Edith was finishing her climb up the hill, one hand planted on her hip as she caught her breath.
I lowered my hands in surprise. There was someone else finishing their climb up the hill behind her as well. It was a man.
I squinted in his direction, noting the black jacket that looked far too hot for the weather, a head of blond curls, and a bible. It was the local vicar, Mr. Martin Frampton. I normally would not be so afraid of a vicar, but today I feared he had come to call me to repentance.Blast Mr. Coburn,the little tell-tale.
I turned around fast, wrenching at the doorknob. “Peter, let me inside,” I hissed.
I heard the door lock moments before Peter’s grinning face appeared behind the front window. I sighed in frustration. Usually, it didn’t come to locks. Most days, I pushed through the door and tickled my brothers senseless. But this was not a time for games.
“Miss Downing, you are just the person I hoped to see.” Mr. Frampton’s voice was labored from his climb. His thick black jacket could not have helped the situation.
I froze for a moment before turning around. I gave a polite curtsy. “Good day, Mr. Frampton.” Could he see how flustered I was? I held my shoulders back and my head high. “How may I help you?”
He watched me with a peculiar look on his face. In fact, he seemed to have momentarily forgotten why he had come at all. His cheeks were flushed, and I had to wonder if it was due to the heat or something else entirely. He blinked twice before his gaze darted down to the grass. “I came to speak with you about a matter of great importance. Is there a place we might speak privately?” His eyes shifted to Edith, who had wandered closer.
“Y-yes, of course.” Worry sprung to my stomach. Was he about to give me a thorough chastising? He had even brought his bible with him. I glanced at the door. Inside was not an option, so I motioned for him to follow me around the back of the house. The garden was small, but there was a lovely path that exhibited the lilac bushes quite nicely. I walked toward it, heart racing with dread, as Mr. Frampton followed at my heels.
I had never seen Mr. Frampton in anything but good spirits, though his sermons were often a little too impassioned. If he planned to rebuke me, all I could hope for was a gentle delivery.
Slowing my pace, I fell into stride beside him. I dared a glance at his face. He was in his late thirties, tall, with dark brown eyes and a long nose. He had an open, innocent disposition, like the sort of man who would secretly release micefrom their traps in the middle of the night. He walked beside me in silence for a long moment, scowling at the ground as if in deep thought.
“What is this matter you came to discuss?” I asked in a tentative voice.
His gaze lifted to mine. He stopped near one of the lilac bushes. “Oh, yes.” His throat bobbed with a swallow, and his grip tightened around his bible, like a child with their favorite blanket. A brief smile flickered across his lips. “Forgive me, I am out of sorts today.”
I gave a slow nod. His manneurisms were a little alarming. Was he here to deliver terrible news? What could have him so anxious?
He turned to face me, drawing deep breath. “Miss Downing, you may not know it, but I have long been an admirer of yours. Week after week, I have watched you in the pews with your young brothers, and I find that you have a remarkable way with children.”
The tension in my shoulders relaxed. Was he here to compliment me? Was that all? “Thank you, Mr. Frampton. That is very kind.”
“Besides that, your eyes are a most lovely shade of green.”
A jolt of surprise gripped my stomach. “Th-thank you.”
He pressed his lips together with a nod, his words spilling out quickly. “My observations have led me to a spiritual enlightening, and I cannot be silent on the matter any longer.”
My brow furrowed. In one swift motion, Mr. Frampton snatched up my hand. “I wish to marry you, Miss Downing, if you will have me.”
CHAPTER 2
Istood in shock—first at his proposal, and then at how very sweaty his hand was. My fingers slipped in his grip.
“Mr. Frampton—I…” my voice trailed off.
Marry him?
