Page 42 of Courting the Vicar’s Daughter

Whatever the case, she had another appointment to keep. She must meet Harry on the edge of her father’s property, where they had encountered each other the day he rescued Bell from the tree.

The church stood silent and still. Perhaps everyone had left.

“Hello?” Daisy called, stepping into the knave. “Mr. Haskett?” The scent of furniture polish drifted in the air, and the sharp lye used to clean the floor mingled with it. The women had come and gone, it would seem.

Footsteps brought her attention to the vestry, and Mr. Haskett stepped through the doorway. Her heart sank. Their last few interactions had been filled with his pointed attentions toward her. Though Mr. Haskett was a kind man, and somewhat attractive in appearance, she could not work up any more enthusiasm for him than she did for any man of her acquaintance. Excepting Harry, who stirred an unusual amount of excitement in her feelings.

“Miss Ames,” the curate said, his tone surprised. “How good it is to see you this afternoon.” He approached, his shoes clapping against the stone floor with haste. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Daisy held the basket out to him with both hands, using it has a barrier between them. But rather than stretch his arms out to take the offering, Mr. Haskett stepped around it to her side.

“Cook wished me to deliver your bread to you,” Daisy said, somewhat belatedly.

“Ah, thank you. She is a marvelous woman. Please extend to her my deepest appreciation for her efforts on my behalf.” He took the basket from her, his eyes never leaving her face. His eyebrows were raised, almost expectantly. “I am grateful you came when you did, Miss Ames. The ladies who generously give of their time to clean the knave have only just departed. Perhaps, if you will allow me to make a bold request, you would give me a moment of your time for a private conversation?”

How is it that one man can turn the simplest of requests into an entire oration?

Daisy forced a smile. “I am at your service, Mr. Haskett. What is it you wish to speak to me about?”

His whole expression brightened, his lips turning up and his eyes gleaming. Guilt smote her. She had been avoiding him, avoiding the opportunity for him to speak to her alone. It had simply become impossible to feel at ease in his presence.

“A most serious matter. Please, will you not sit down?” He walked into the knave and put the basket down, then sat on another pew and gestured for her to sit next to him. Daisy hesitated, but there was nothing inappropriate in sitting in a church, with a man of God. She took care to keep some distance between them on the pew, however.

Seated on the edge of the pew, Daisy kept her hands still in her lap. “What is this serious matter, sir?” Surely it could not be anything that would disturb her. Surely, he was not about to say anything that would be unbearable to hear.

The rather grave look he fixed upon her suggested otherwise. “Miss Ames, I have been giving a great deal of thought to your situation of late.” He paused, expectantly.

“My situation? I am not sure what you mean.”

“You are the youngest of your father’s daughters, and at twenty-one you are yet unmarried.”

Those were facts. Not a situation. “Yes, Mr. Haskett.”

“And you are a servant to the parish, always giving of yourself to the people. I wish to tell you how much I admire your selfless character and kindness.” He spoke gently, and most sincerely, but it still struck Daisy as an odd sort of way to pay a compliment. “Your desire to educate the daughters of the parish also says a great deal about your compassionate heart.”

If it had been anyone else saying such things to her, Daisy may have blushed. But his compliments were only paving the way to the true subject of the conversation. This left her rather impatient, yet dreading the point which he would soon reach. “Thank you. I hope others feel as I do in support of the school.” Would her matter-of-fact tone put him off at all?

No. It seemed he determined in his course, sliding a few inches closer to her.

“I am certain when they see the efforts you have gone through, all will be most moved, as I have been, by your good works. I have been most deeply moved by you, Miss Ames. Augusta.”

Every hair on the back of Daisy’s neck stood up on end and her stomach shrunk.

“That is supremely kind to say.” She moved back the same distance he had moved toward her. Was there no way to escape this conversation and save face? Glancing behind her at the door, she realized bolting out the way she had come in would be far too graceless.

“I speak the truth. And there is more, Augusta. Your gentleness and compassion are the very reasons I wish to speak with you today. I would ask if you might consider doing me the great honor of allowing me to pay court to you.” He reached for a hand she had let fall to the lip of the pew, but the instant he touched it she drew away.

“Mr. Haskett,” she said in what she sincerely hoped was a firm tone. “I have not given you leave to call me by my Christian name.” And every time he said it, she liked the name even less. “And while I do understand the honor you are bestowing on me with your request, I must decline.”

He drew back, almost as though she had done something as shocking as bit him, and considered her with wide eyes. “I—I understand that I am not in the best position to take a wife. A curate’s income is a mere pittance, after all. But I am hoping to obtain a living not far from here, in perhaps a year’s time. If you could wait—you could begin your school and we may come to know one another better.”

Daisy started to shake her head. “That is most considerate of you, Mr. Haskett, but—”

“I am not proposing marriage yet,” he interrupted, his expression turned somewhat pleading. “I know this must be something of a surprise to you.” It really wasn’t, though she had hoped to put off this moment a great deal longer. “I have admired you almost since the moment of my arrival in this parish. Will you at least consider a courtship? To be sure, I must merit some thought rather than a hasty answer.” Though his tone had grown somewhat sad, she sensed a demand in his words.

Daisy stood, having no wish to draw out the conversation. She had never been attracted to Mr. Haskett, though she recognized him as a good man of high moral conduct. Not once had her mind imagined him in the position of admirer or husband. He had never entered her daydreams, never crossed her fancy, and she could not allow him to think there was hope for any of that to change.

“It is not a hasty answer, sir. I am afraid I have not been oblivious to your attentions.” She spoke gently, hoping to ease whatever sting her words would give. “I have never thought of you in any way save as my father’s curate. I admire the work you do, but I am not interested in having a connection with you that is any different than your relationship with any of the parishioners. I thank you for your interest, but my answer will not change.”