Jonathan’s forehead wrinkled. “Hmm. Is there other employment you might take up?”
“Perhaps more mission work that could bring in a meagre stipend? But how would we support the children that inevitably follow marriage?”
“You know there are ways to limit the number of children that are conceived?”
“Yes, but none that are condoned by the church, except abstinence, unfortunately.” Not that he believed the church should make those decisions for its flock.Abstinence is the last thing I want to practice with Clarissa. “I can’t support the edict that couples must not limit conception with good conscience. That can only cause discord within a marriage. I see that now. It takes away the rights of women to have agency over their bodies, their lives…even life itself.”
“I’ll leave you and your wife to make those decisions.” Jonathan looked a little flushed around the neck. “With regard to the living—does the idea of residing in the Hampshirecountryside and ministering to a country flock still appeal to you? Would you still wish to take it up in the future, even if you don’t take it up now?”
“Yes, definitely.”
“Jane is concerned that you are unduly influenced by your father’s dream of a rural living and that you are really a city person at heart.”
Francis remembered when atage sixteenhisfather accompanied him toSt. John’s College, Oxford before he began his studies. His father had told him about his own time at Oxford. And how he had always wanted to obtain a rectory in the country, especially after he had a family to raise, as he believed that was the ideal environment to live and raise children.
Francis had immediately adopted that goal as his own, although up until then he had been happy to live in London.
Was he clinging to an old, out-of-date, and appropriated goal? His enjoyment of country living when he had been newly ordained and working with Reverend Hodges had been real. It remained a vivid goal of his. “I’m sure that a country living is my true calling,” he said.
Jonathan gave him a long steady look, as though trying to read the truth of his words on his face. “In that case, leave it with me. I will work out something for the living. You need only concern yourself with making everything right with your wife.” Jonathan rose to his feet, strode to the door and opened it.
Their interview was over. Stunned and a little confused by Jonathan’s response, Francis rehoused his glasses in their case and hastened to comply.
Jonathan shook his hand again and ushered him out. “So glad we could have this discussion, Francis. I’ll be in contact with you soon,” he said in farewell.Very business-like.
Within minutes, Francis was again on the street, hat on head, walking stick in hand. He reviewed the meeting, butcould not determine what Jonathan had meant. He must solve this dilemma on his own. He headed for Fleet Street, intent on asking for employment with the many newspapers located there, hoping to entice them with his extensive contacts in the theatre world.
Afterwards, unsuccessful and with nowhere else to go, he headed back to his lodgings.
In the early afternoon, there was a tap on his door. The young boy who delivered missives on behalf of The Brody School stood there. He brought a letter from Charlotte inviting Clarissa and himself to a family afternoon tea at the Brody School for Young Ladies.Is this just a social occasion or do they have another reason for inviting us?
Francis quickly penned a note to Clarissa at her father’s house via the same reliable lad.
Mid-afternoon on that bitter January day, Francis knocked on the door of Captain Harding’s townhouse and asked for his wife. Within minutes, Clarissa walked with him to Harley Street. She held his arm stiffly and answered his polite enquiries about her day in a few words, until he had no more questions and conversation lapsed.
His heart ached at the loss of their previous camaraderie and affection. He swung his walking stick, forward and back, as they proceeded in silence.I hate feeling this powerless.Dalton, he feared, was his only hope of a solution.
Once in the foyer, they handed their coats to Joe. Francis led Clarissa down the hallway, past the stairway leading upstairs to his sisters’ bedchambers. Doors branched off on either side of the foyer. They paced past his sisters’ formal parlor where they interviewed the parents of prospective pupils. The familiar rich smell of the bees wax polish used on the wooden furniture and doors tickled his nose. Distant sounds of girls’ voices, as they practiced French withMadame, drifted down from upstairs.
They strode onward to his sisters’ private sitting room. Inside, his sisters were assembled on the mixture of chairs that populated the room. Jane, Charlotte, Anna, and Katherine greeted them warmly. Francis and Clarissa claimed a striped sofa that faced the scattered chairs.
Moments after their arrival, two maids entered bringing tea and cakes. Dalton arrived in time to receive a cup of just-poured tea from Jane before cakes were passed around.
Francis sipped his tea then set his cup and saucer on the small wooden table before the sofa. Clarissa may have been sitting beside him but the gap between them was too wide physically and emotionally for him to feel anything but loss. And worse, he knew that distance would soon become far greater. He shifted in his seat, trying to ease the stiffness in his muscles.
What was the purpose of this gathering? Surely not just for chit-chat over tea and cakes? He accepted a tea cake slathered with butter onto his plate and sat back to wait for all to be revealed.
Once everyone was served, Jonathan cleared this throat. “Thank you for coming, Francis and Clarissa. I’m sure you’re wondering why you are here.”
Francis dipped his chin in response. Clarissa glanced around as though trying to read the answer on his sisters’ faces. His hand strayed to his pocket coat where his glasses case resided.
“Jane?” Jonathan prompted his wife.
“We have discussed your dilemma and have another option, which you both may wish to consider that wouldn’t require you to be parted,” she said. “Unless you wished to, of course,” she added hurriedly. “Jonathan has an idea.” She looked expectantly at her husband, who soon elaborated.
“With regard to the living in Hampshire, Francis, it is yours to take up whenever you wish. If you are not in aposition to do so yet, you could employ a curate until you are. That would give you an income…and give you time, Clarissa, to fulfil your career ambitions on the stage.” Jonathan splayed his hands, palms upwards, before him and smiled, eliciting their comments.
A sliver of hope ignited Francis. It was a good option. in him. One that Francis hadn’t seriously considered. It had seemed so ungrateful to take the living and not fulfil the position himself. Now Jonathan had approved that course, the tension in his body eased.
