Page 24 of Discovering Grace

“That is good, that you know what must yet be accomplished.” Jacob regarded her closed expression carefully. “Did you assist Hope with all that she worked upon?”

For a moment, Grace pressed her lips together tightly enough that they turned white, as though she were forcing herself not to answer him. Odd. “I apologize, this subject seems to upset you.”

She shook her head slowly. “It isn’t that. Not precisely that.” Grace pressed her gloved fingers to her temple. “You needn’t worry over anything Hope has left undone. I am well prepared to manage the sewing, library, and even the proposed Sunday school class for the betterment of the working-class daughters.”

Jacob had known that last one had been presented by both sisters to the vicar. They had asked for his opinion on teaching some of the younger children skills they might use to obtain better serving positions as they grew older. The vicar had consulted Jacob, as it must eventually fall under his supervision, and they had both been impressed by the plan.

“I’m grateful you will see to those things in her absence.” Indeed, he was certain Grace’s hard work might spare her sister harsher criticism later.

As energetically as Hope went about doing good for others, Grace had always seemed to stand as a quiet support to her sister, tethering the exuberance in a way that made Hope’s efforts more focused. It was good to know that Hope’s efforts would not be forgotten, that the community would remember her kind acts as they were carried on in her absence.

Apart from that concern, once people discovered what Hope and Grace had done, the lie told by them both, would anyone accept her as a clergyman’s wife?

“Perhaps by the time she returns the gossip will have died down.” He emitted a deep groan and rubbed at his eyes. “You are both going to face consequences for that, Grace.”

Grace’s posture stiffened and she turned to him, her face pale. “You do not think our neighbors might forgive such a thing? We haven’t harmed anyone.”

“But have you ruined the trust your friends had in you?” Jacob winced, imagining what the gossips might say. “A vicar’s wife must be a reflection on him, and therefore above reproach. Courting Hope could prove difficult.”

“I see.” Grace’s mount snorted and pulled abruptly to the side. Jacob eyed the mare dubiously. She was Hope’s horse, and therefore a more spirited animal than the one Grace normally rode. Their pace had likely become too sedate for the creature.

Grace righted the mare, taking firm hold of the reins. “I hope things are not as bad as you fear, Jacob. You deserve to be happily settled in your new life.”

Though the words were kind, something about the way Grace said them changed their meaning. Her tone bordered on satirical.

“I meant no slight to Hope,” Jacob added quickly. “Or to you. I am only being honest.”

“Oh, I understand.” The horse danced sideways again. “If you will excuse me. I had better give this fine lady the exercise she wishes.” They were nearly off the Inglewood estate and onto her father’s property, but when Grace leaned over the horse’s neck and gave the mare her head, Jacob’s worry mounted and he tried to keep up with her, in case the animal proved too much for the young woman.

To his surprise, Grace proved she was as fine a horsewoman as her sister, which made sense, given that they had grown up riding together. Though he could not recall ever seeing Grace galloping across the country as heedless of speed as Hope. Even when she rode directly behind her sister, Grace exuded a calm and capable manner.

Grace had always kept pace with Hope, and not just while riding.

When they came back to the Refuge, Jacob expected Grace to slow down and bid him farewell. Instead she rode directly through the gates, and he remained on the road.

What had he done wrong now?

Chapter 10

“Mr. Barnes, take heed.” The vicar’s usual placid manner was overcome by impatience. “That book is two hundred years old.”

Jacob hurried to support the text he had upset, before it slid from the top of the vicar’s desk. He looked down at the book’s spine. Actes and Monuments. John Foxe’s Book of Martyrs. It must have been a later edition if it was only two hundred years old. Still. It was impressive their small seaside vicarage held such a book in its library.

“I am sorry, Mr. Spratt. My thoughts went wandering.” Jacob put Foxe’s book upon its stack again. “May I shelve these for you?”

“Yes, yes.” Mr. Spratt waved Jacob toward the bookshelves. Though the top of the old man’s head was devoid of hair, wisps of white still grew in a fringe over his ears. The elderly vicar would retire in three weeks’ time, and Jacob would be ordained and take the position. In the interim, Jacob had helped Mr. Spratt go through the vicarage and the church, learning about the records of the parish, among other things. As he quite liked Mr. Spratt, he had also volunteered to help the old gentleman go through his personal belongings.

They were currently going through the library to determine which of the books were part of Mr. Spratt’s private collection and which belonged at the vicarage. Mr. Spratt had been the vicar for more than twenty years, so it was no surprise several of his volumes had been lost among the shelves. Most of the afternoon had passed in silence, with few comments shared between the men, the only constant sound that of the patter of rain upon the library windows.

“I do not remember if this is mine,” Mr. Spratt muttered, peering through his spectacles at a particularly ancient looking book. “I studied poetry in school, but I thought I only kept the religious volumes.” He handed the book to Jacob. “What do you make of it?”

“Night Thoughts.” Jacob opened the volume to check for a printer’s stamp. “Seventeen forty-five. It is a trifle old, sir. When were you at university?”

“I finished my education in 1764.” The man chuckled and rubbed at his forehead. “I shall say it is not mine. I was arrogant enough in those days to only purchase new books.” He waved his hand at Jacob. “Go on and put it back in the shelves, then.”

Jacob did as he was bid. “I cannot imagine you as an arrogant man, Mr. Spratt.”

“It is incredible the change God can work in a man’s heart in fifty years.” Mr. Spratt groaned and lowered himself into the chair beside the old desk. He took off his spectacles and started to clean them. “God and a good woman. Ah, I miss her. It has been too long since my wife told me I am too high in the instep.”