“Oh, this does look like quite the serious conversation,” said Rachel, sidling up to Marian and putting her arm through her sister-in-law’s.
Mr. Clements smiled. “We were discussing the upcoming concert.”
With a broad grin, Rachel squeezed Marian’s arm. “I cannot wait for it. I have been working day and night to get my offering ready for the evening.”
“I am certain you will be wonderful, young Mrs. Wakefield,” said Mrs. Henshaw. “You have such a talent for singing.”
Rachel waved that away and leaned forward to pat Mr. Clements’ forearm. “Marian was telling me how much she enjoys your sermons. They are guaranteed to lift the soul.”
Marian’s cheeks burned, but she gritted her teeth and forced the rest of her expression to remain placid. Rachel laughed and gave the fellow another brazen touch on his forearm, and Marian wished the ground beneath her would open up. As it was, she could hardly keep her eyes raised as her sister-in-law continued to flatter and flirt with the man on Marian’s behalf.
“That selection from Fordyce’s sermons you suggested was quite brilliant,” said Rachel, turning to smile at her sister-in-law. “Marian couldn’t stop talking about how moving it was.”
If only Marian had a fainting temperament, she could feign a bout of vapors and excuse herself. Instead, she had to stand there and pretend nothing was amiss. And it did not help that one portion of her thoughts was forever aware of Mr. Finch’s position in the crowd. Irksome man.
“Did you find it enlightening, Miss Wakefield?” asked Mr. Clements with a light in his gaze. “There is nothing so enjoyable as having studied a subject many times before and stumbling upon a passage that makes you comprehend it in a whole new manner.”
“I quite agree, Mr. Clements,” said Marian with a genuine smile, though she could hardly claim Fordyce’s sermons had done so for her. “There are times when I am certain the words on the page have altered, for though I had read the scriptures many times before, I had not felt its meaning in such a profound manner until that moment.”
Rachel fairly hummed at Marian’s words, beaming like a great fool as the pair chatted on the subject, though Mr. Clements spoke hardly one word to Marian’s three. Mrs. Henshaw and Mrs. Carter were no better, for they tittered and sent the pair far too many meaningful looks. And what little composure the gawkers had was eradicated when Mr. Clements spoke again.
“I would be interested in hearing more of your interpretation,” said the young vicar, his cheeks taking on the tiniest hint of pink as he cast a glance at their audience, and Marian felt like patting the poor fellow on the head as he stammered and sputtered through the invitation.
“Certainly, Mr. Clements,” said Rachel before Marian had the opportunity to answer, though she knew full well she wouldn’t have refused the invitation. Perhaps Papa might forget this ridiculous ultimatum if she put on more of a show of finding herself a husband.
Mr. Clements decided on the details (with Rachel giving more of her opinion on the matter than Marian) and then, with a bow, he departed to tend to more of his flock. Or as much tending as the man was wont to do in his quiet manner.
“That was a coup!” said Mrs. Carter, fairly bouncing on her toes like a schoolgirl.
“Excellent,” added Mrs. Henshaw. “Our vicar is in need of a wife, and you will do well together, for he needs someone who will push him to be more involved with the parish.”
Mrs. Carter nodded. “Oh my, it would be a good match. He is well established and would give you a comfortable home and future. And you would not allow him to sit about in the afternoons, playing in his garden or reading or whatever else he gets himself up to. The parish needs a vicar who will tend to its needs, and I cannot imagine you allowing a husband to do anything less than his very best.”
Though the lady intended the words to be complimentary, Marian couldn’t help the sinking feeling in her stomach as Mrs. Carter and Mrs. Henshaw described her hypothetical marriage to Mr. Clements. There was laughter in their tones, and Marian couldn’t help but think they were describing a shrew of a wife who would ring a peal over her husband’s head at anything that displeased her.
Unyielding. Demanding. Uncompromising. None of the pair’s descriptions of the hypothetical Clements’ “marital bliss” held anything like the joy and companionship Marian desired. What must they think of her to believe her to be such an unfeeling wife? And what had poor Mr. Clements done to deserve such an unhappy future?
Marian pasted on a smile, nodding along with the jests and laughter, uncertain if she ought to be offended at their opinion or ashamed that she had given them this impression. And then she sighed silently as Mrs. Henshaw and Mrs. Carter took their leave and went off to pester someone else.
“How marvelous, Marian!” said Rachel, squeezing her sister-in-law’s arm. “That is quite a nice development, and if you tread carefully, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Clements were to make you an offer soon.”
It wasn’t often that Marian felt at a loss for words, but at present, she couldn’t decide how she felt on any front. Between Mr. Clements’ invitation, the unintended revelation concerning others’ opinion of her, and the wretched conversation that preceded it, Marian felt drained of any emotion. Certainly, she ought to feel something, but she didn’t know what.
Rachel beamed and the pair turned to glance out at the crowd. “It is terrible that your father is taking such steps, but see what can occur when you apply yourself?”
Marian had heard anger described as fiery and hot flames that burned through the person, but she had always felt as though her temper was more like the winter gales that blasted through the streets, rattling windows and tearing off roof tiles. And how her winds began to howl.
It was bad enough that Rachel knew of Father’s edict, but to hear someone openly support the wretched scheme was more than Marian could stand at present. Matters were not helped when her eyes drifted to Mr. Finch, whose own gaze wandered the crowd, though his search was waylaid by parishioners wishing to reacquaint themselves with him. She didn’t know why the fellow was here, but it added to the rising and falling of currents churning the air into a proper storm.
Marian had thought her temper spent on that account, but her thoughts dredged up their reunion, adding to the rushing winds.
“Miss Wakefield.”His voice rose from her memories, bringing with it that insufferable tone he’d used. Marian was well aware of her unmarried state, and she did not need him, of all people, putting such mocking emphasis on it. Despite having suffered his rejection all those years ago, she hadn’t thought him cruel.
Pressure built in her chest as Rachel babbled nonsense, though Marian paid it no mind; her sister-in-law did not often require acknowledgment or response, and so Marian allowed Rachel’s tongue free rein whilst she tried to tamp down the gale.
Yes, Mr. George Finch had returned home, but there was no reason they could not avoid each other in the future. They had gone many years before and after their friendship without crossing paths, and Marian could not imagine he would wish to continue an acquaintance with someone he found so entirely undesirable.
Even as she cursed him to Hades, Mr. Finch’s gaze found hers, and for the briefest of moments, Marian thought his eyes widened and brightened, but she rejected that idea as the folderol it was. But then he turned away from his companions and cut a path through the crowd, and no matter how she wished it to be a mistake, it was clear that Mr. Finch was coming towards her.
