Rebecca (21 page)

She smiled. “That's all right, Nicholas. I have been asked to become involved in a project of my own, so you need not worry about paying less attention to me. Reverend Middleton asked me to help with the church fair.”

“I'm sure he understood when you told him that you would not be able to do it. There always are other good works you can be involved in.”

Sitting straighter, she looked into his dark eyes. “What are you taking about? I told him I would be glad to help, of course.”

His eyes narrowed. “My dear Rebecca, you can't walk. How are you going to do work at the church? Don't be silly and ruin your recovery that has gone so well this far.”

“Are you saying that I cannot do it?”

“Yes!” he said sharply. “If you want it in a nutshell, Rebecca, I am saying you cannot do it!”

Rage such as he had not seen on her face since they had arrived at Foxbridge Cloister brightened her snapping eyes. She drew away from him. Although she could not help wincing as she moved her leg, she ignored it. Coldly, she said, “You have failed to understand our agreement, Nicholas. I'm pretending to be your wife. My own life still belongs solely to me. If I want to work at the church fair, it isn't your place to tell me what to do or not to do. As far as I am concerned, I don't need your permission to do what I wish.”

He grasped her face in his hands. “You are my wife, Rebecca! Until the annulment, you belong to me. What I tell you to do, you will do! It is clear that you are too stubborn to see that this plan will hurt you more. You won't be involved in this church fair.” He released her. “Do you understand?”

As she rubbed her face where his fingers had bit into her skin, she said, “I understand how you feel completely. What you don't understand is that you are going to have to lock me in my room to keep me from going to church to help with the children's choir.”

“Children's choir?” he repeated. All the wrath left his face as he began to laugh heartily. When he could control his own amusement enough to speak, he said, “All right, Rebecca, you win. Go, and work with those youngsters. It may teach you the sense you won't listen to.”

He knew enough about the village urchins to guess that any attempt to mold them into any sort of formal group was doomed to failure. They ran wild while their parents worked in the fields or in the cottages. Some of them were headed for real trouble, for there had been too much laxity with no Lord Foxbridge present to give authority to the lazy, craven constable. If Rebecca wanted to try this, she soon would discover it was useless. Then she would be home where she belonged, recovering quietly as she should.

Although she did not know why he had relented so suddenly, Rebecca was not going to question him. She would not strain herself. When Hart had returned after being mustered out after he was injured at the battle of Monmouth in the summer of 1778, he had had to depend on a cane to get around the farm. She had helped him learn to use it. She would use those lessons for herself.

In a much calmer voice, she said, “I will know by Tuesday when rehearsals will be. I would guess it will take up two or three hours a week.” She looked into his sparkling eyes. “I promise I will do nothing to delay my recovery.”

“I'm sure you will keep that promise,” he replied with a smug expression. One visit with those untamed children would convince her that her place was at Foxbridge Cloister. Nicholas would not have been so sure of his own estimation of the situation if he had had more time to learn about his wife. He was not aware that he was the one about to be taught a lesson.

Chapter Ten

Sims insisted on carrying Rebecca into the church, although she assured him that she could manage on her own. For once, the coachman refused to listen to her. He made it clear that if she did not let him help, he would close the door and drive her back to Foxbridge Cloister. With a smile, she concurred.

Reverend Middleton had sent his message to Rebecca early Monday morning. The children would be waiting for her at the church Tuesday afternoon. She had had Collette search the attics to find a cane for her to use, had bid Nicholas good-bye and noted the sparkle of amusement in his eyes once more, and had arrived at exactly the requested time.

When Sims put her down at the back of the sanctuary, she told him she would send for him when she needed him. He looked at the group of rascals racing through the church and was tempted to stay to help her, despite his promise to Lord Foxbridge that he would let Lady Foxbridge do this all herself. The coachman sensed that his lord was expecting his wife to fail in this enterprise. That had surprised Sims, for he had thought Lord Foxbridge would be pleased to see his wife involved in such a project.

“Thank you, Sims,” Rebecca said as her eyes took in the raggedly dressed children who were playing with no regard to the sanctity of the building. “I will see you in two hours.”

“Yes, my lady.” He paused as he started for the door. “If you need me—”

“I won't,” she answered calmly.

After he left, Rebecca watched the youngsters for a moment longer. The youngest could be no more than four, while the oldest must be about twelve. Such a disparate group, and they obviously felt no need to behave in church. She raised her cane and sharply hit the back of a pew twice. At the sound, they froze instantly. When the frightened faces turned toward her, she saw they were not malicious children. They just were being children freed from the drudgery of their lives for a brief afternoon of fun.

“Good afternoon.” She used the cane to point to two pews next to her. “If you would please be seated, we can get to work on this project.”

One of the younger ones spoke a phrase which was most out of place in the church. Expectantly, the children waited for Lady Foxbridge's outraged reaction.

Coolly, she asked, “Is that so, young man? If you think you can shock me with those words, let me tell you that I have heard them used before and far more imaginatively. Now that you have stated your opinion, would you kindly sit as I have asked?”

Awed by her lack of astonishment, the youngsters started to move toward the pews. The child who had cursed so loudly hesitated, but one of the bigger boys shoved him forward, so that he joined the parade to the bare benches.

When they were seated, Rebecca said, “I'm sure you know that I am Rebecca Wythe, Lord Foxbridge's wife. It will take me a little longer to learn all your names, so please bear with me. I'm sure that you know, too, why I am here this afternoon. You, young lady, why are you here? Tell me your name, please.”

Rebecca purposely had singled out a young girl who had been one of the few behaving themselves by the altar. With a smile of pride that she had been acknowledged by the lady, the child rose. Her heavy, blonde braids bounced as she did. “My name is Brigit, my lady. I'm here because Ma told me to come.”

She laughed at the little girl's forthright answer. “That's the reason I'm sure all of you are here today. That's fine for today, but next time I want you to come only if you want to have fun singing here and at the church fair.”

“Fun?” cried a towheaded boy. “It won't be fun to learn stuffy church songs and to stand straight and still while everybody listens.”

Slowly Rebecca sat. She did not want to preach to the youngsters. She wanted them to see this as a lark. When a spasm of pain flashed across her face, the children shared guilty expressions as they recalled how they had heard that Lady Foxbridge had been hurt very badly just a short while ago. It impressed them that she was willing to come to work with them.

“I agree,” she said when she had smoothed her skirt over her aching leg. She had to remember to be careful, for she had been on her feet only during the past twenty-four hours. “Standing still and singing boring songs is no fun. That is why we won't do that. I shall make you an offer, my young friends. Will you tell me when what we are doing isn't fun? If I tell you to stand straight, I want you to tell me that isn't important. What we are going to do here is for you. Not for your parents and families, but for you.”

The tall, dark-haired boy who had subdued the troublemaker said, “Lady Foxbridge, that sounds good to me. My name is Greggy, my lady,” he added, quickly.

“Greggy, you know your friends better than I. Will you have them line up in front of the altar?” Letting her eyes rove over all of them, she stated, “Children, I don't care how you line up. Just be in two rows. Stand next to whomever you want. If the littlest ones want to stand in the back, fine. Just decide where you want to be, and remember it, so you can stand in the same place next time.”

Rebecca watched with a half smile as they surged to the front of the room again. Despite her words, most of the shortest ones stood in front and the taller ones behind them. She was not surprised that the girls were primarily on one side, the boys on the other. If she had told them to line up that way, they would have grumbled. By doing it themselves, they felt like they were controlling the situation.

“Wonderful!” she called, clapping her hands. The children looked smug at her praise. She wanted them to long for the sound of applause, for that would give them the impetus to work harder to impress their elders.

She called them back to the pews and had them line up again as if it was a game to remember where they had been standing. They responded perfectly. After they were sitting once more, she talked with them about what they would like to sing. They were very impressed that she would ask their opinion. When they had discussed the three types of song they would like to sing, Rebecca let them think they had chosen exactly what she had been planning on doing from the beginning.

Quickly she discovered the children had few choices and fewer expectations. They were sure their futures would be identical to their parents' lives. How different from the youngsters in America! There every farm child hoped to grow to own more than his parents or to become something grand. When she dismissed the youngsters after an hour, for she knew she had to keep them from becoming bored, she told them that if they wanted to learn the songs to be back on Thursday at the same time.

Reverend Middleton rose from his pew at the back of the church as the children exuberantly ran out into the sunshine. He watched as several paused to speak to Lady Foxbridge. She listened to each one as if she was deeply interested in their young thoughts. Catching the door before it could crash closed, he shut it more slowly to keep out the summer heat.

“I think you are going to do very well with these children, Lady Foxbridge,” he said with a grin as he sat in the pew in front of her. His eyes took in her happy smile, which lit her pretty face even more brightly than it appeared in his dreams.

“They are fine children.” She laughed. “I think we will do wonderfully together, Reverend.”

“Please, my lady, if you would call me John, I would appreciate it. We will be working closely on this fair, and I know ‘Reverend Middleton' is a mouthful.” When she started to speak, he added, “I shall continue to call you ‘my lady,' so I do not get into habits that might be hard to break.”

Rebecca's blue eyes twinkled with mischief. “I didn't know that ministers had bad habits.”

“We are human, too.” He held out his hand to her. “And, right now, this human is thirsty. Would you care for a cup of tea before you return to the Cloister? You must be thirsty as well after all that discussion with the children.”

She placed her fingers in his palm and leaned on him and her cane as she rose cautiously. Intent on her effort, she did not see his expression of delight as he felt her slender hand in his. He transferred her hand to his arm as they walked out of the church very slowly. When her body slanted against his as they went down the steps, he was able to control his smile with only the full force of his self-will.

In public he could not show anyone how he felt about the beautiful Lady Foxbridge. He could allow no one to see until he knew how she felt about her husband. Yet even if she despised Lord Foxbridge, there was no hope for a relationship between them, for she was bound to her husband for all her life. He tried to ignore that fact.

The vicarage was a small house, but it was decorated well and seemed very comfortable. Opening the door onto a hall which led directly to the kitchen at the back of the house, he assisted her into the parlor, which was filled with many bookshelves and his desk.

“Excuse me while I put on the pot for tea, my lady. My housekeeper Mrs. Martin is out today. Please sit on the settee, my lady. I will be back in a moment.”

Gratefully she sank down onto the faded material of the once-fine piece of furniture. The day had strained her, but she dared to mention that to no one. If she even hinted that she had pushed herself too far, Nicholas would refuse to let her continue. She wanted to see if she could teach those rascals to be a choir. They were delightful, enthusiastic children, and she was sure they would have fun together. She had to discover the words to one of the songs they wanted to sing so they could learn it correctly. Undoubtedly one of the servants at Foxbridge Cloister would know it.

“Here we are, Lady Foxbridge.”

She looked up to see her host returning. He had removed his coat, for summer had burst upon the shire, but still wore his church collar under his waistcoat and shirt. Setting the tray in front of her, he handed her a cup of the tea and offered her her choice from a plate of cakes.

“Thank you, John. You are a wonderful host. You didn't need to go to all this trouble.”

With a chuckle, he sat next to her. “It's no trouble at all. Anyone who can accomplish what you have with the youngsters so quickly deserves to be feted.”

His admiration embarrassed her. To change the subject away from her small success, she asked him more about the fair and what they planned. He told her of the storm the previous year which had disrupted the fair being held to raise money for a bell to replace the one cracked years before. Instead of raising money, they had witnessed their church nearly burning to the ground when lightning reached out of the sky to turn the steeple into a tower of flames. The hard rain more than their feeble efforts had saved the church.