The Affectionate Adversary (32 page)

“And what is that, Charles? Do not tell me you wish to preach to those wastrels and molls. Those ne’er-do-wells need food in their stomachs and coats on their backs—not sermons.”

“I shall try to give them both, sir. A man cast into debtors’ prison cannot work to pay back what he owes. A woman thrown into gaol for prostitution can hardly hope to rise above her circumstances in that setting. If I can spare these people such a sentence and assist them in finding legitimate work, they may be more likely to hear the truth of Jesus Christ.”

“Upon my word, son, you are altered!” James pushed himself from his chair and stalked to the fire. Taking the poker, he gave the charred logs a firm jab. “What has brought about this change in you? Was it your brush with death? or your encounter with a young lady equally lethal?”

“I am sure both have played a part in the changes you observe. But it has been Lady Delacroix’s influence that fixed my heart upon this new course. By her words and her example, I have been taught the futility of my previous aims. Oddly enough, it appears that she and I have reversed roles. I have decided to abandon my striving for wealth and social standing in favor of a life spent in the service of the needy. She has chosen to surrender her goal of disbursing her fortune to the poor in favor of embracing both affluence and society. I learned today that she means to wed her late husband’s nephew, the present Lord Delacroix.”

“That is it, then.” James set the poker back into its rack. “You are distressed at this news, and your thoughts are befuddled.”

“On the contrary, Father, my clarity of mind has increased since learning of the intended marriage. In succumbing to the pressure of her sisters and her nephew, Lady Delacroix actually has surrendered everything most dear to her. She has sentenced herself to a life she longed to escape. Though her action in accepting the proposal—along with the security, lands, and social status it ensures—would appear to be selfish, it is, in fact, quite the opposite. She wanted to be rid of all the trappings of property and society. But in order to bring happiness to her sisters, she now sacrifices her own pleasure and condemns herself to misery.”

“Balderdash!” James exploded. “Rot! Infamous lies! That woman has bewitched you! For what reason, I cannot say, but there is no question in my mind that she has totally bedeviled you. Under her spell, you will give up everything you might achieve in life—fortune, fame, position, security—all of it! While she—wicked vixen that she is—will dance away with her new husband and enjoy twice the social success she had before!”

“You are wrong, Father,” Charles said, standing. “You do not know her as I do.”

“You are a besotted fool!”

“I am in greater control of my senses than ever before in my life. It pains me to disappoint a deeply respected father, but I shall not be waylaid from this course. I shall become a solicitor, assist the needy, and speak the truth of Christ to those whose lives are empty of it.”

“Then preach to the aristocracy! By heaven, they are as bereft of Christian morality as any moll who walks the streets of Cheapside. Marston was a schemer, a cheat, and a lazy glutton! Lady Delacroix’s first husband was worse. Everyone knew his affinity for gaming and drink! He married her only to enrich his coffers.”

“You do not know that, Father.”

“It was obvious to all who knew him. Everyone said so.”

“Father, I beg you to refrain from repeating malicious rumors. Delacroix is dead and certainly cannot defend himself against such charges.”

“Oh, Charles, I should not be as fastidious as you for a kingdom! Be a man. Earn your way in life. Make yourself and all who know you proud.”

“I am a man, sir. I shall earn my way and provide for you as well. But I have no intention of acting in any fashion that might lead me to take pride in myself. I mean to bring glory to God and Him alone. If you find such behavior repulsive and weak, perhaps you ought to have paid greater attention to your wife.”

“Upon my honor, I have never known you to be so insolent!”

Charles let out a hot breath. “I apologize, Father. That was uncalled for. Do you suppose I welcome this new life? Can you believe I wish to consort with the lice-ridden, poxafflicted, unwashed criminals of this city? Do you think it has been easy to relinquish my dreams of building a tea trade? No, indeed. Worst of all is the knowledge that the woman I love will wed herself to another man. I must live out my days under the sentence that society has imposed upon me. No matter how much Lady Delacroix may have loved me, we could never marry.”

“But if you worked your way up—”

“I can never ascend to her social stratum. She is beyond me, and I must accept that.”

“But why punish yourself further? Why demean your character and reputation by aspiring to nothing higher than the lot of a common solicitor?”

“Because that is the only way I know to be at peace.” Charles reached down to pick up his hat and gloves. “Lady Delacroix taught me that this life is not to be spent in amassing earthly treasures. Every true Christian must be bent on heaven. For where a man’s heart is, there will his treasure be also.”

“And you believe that by aiding these miscreants you will earn yourself a place in heaven?”

“No, sir. My destiny there became secure during these past few days—as I gradually surrendered my own will and placed myself into the hands of Christ. But I do believe heaven awaits me, Father, and I intend to spend my time on earth preparing for that better life. Your wife was wise in loving the Bible as she did, you know. It is a book well worth the reading, for who can deny its description of the futility of amass- ing a fortune that must be left behind upon one’s death? It is much better to build a fortune in heaven. And that, my dear father, is done with good works.”

As he started for his room, Charles could hear his father harrumphing and blustering behind him. “Well, of all the … upon my word … I cannot believe this … what has come over the boy … utterly besotted …”

Returning to the fireside, Charles picked up the Bible and held it out to his father. “Read this, please,” he said. “Begin with the first chapter of the Gospel according to St. John, and continue through the third chapter. Then peruse the epistle of James. Salvation is a gift of God, and it cannot be earned. But a man’s true faith in Christ is revealed by his works done on this earth. It is all there, Father, and very clearly explained. Do give it a try, sir. My mother would approve.”

Sarah sat beside the window of the drawing room at Trenton House and watched the rain slash against the panes. All afternoon, she had been trying to finish embroidering a screen depicting a forest replete with maidens, unicorns, and pear trees. But her thoughts would not stay with the tranquil scene nor with the thread and needle, and finally it became such an effort to untangle the knots that she gave it up entirely.

Laying her work on the settee beside her, she studied her lady’s maid, who was patiently putting the skeins of colored wool back into the sewing basket. Despite her unfavorable condition in life, Anne possessed a serenity that Sarah envied. How could such a young woman be so happy—a poor creature whose father had been put into prison, who had been compelled to travel far from home to find work, and who labored at tasks demeaning to one with her education and training?

Only once had Sarah witnessed evidence of Anne’s distress. The day after the private conversation among the women in the bedroom at Bamberfield, Mary had recommended that Anne be sent to another house far from Cranleigh Crescent and those who called Belgravia their home. The maid knew too much, Mary reasoned, and she might inadvertently mention personal information about the family. Anne had heard every word of Mary’s argument, of course. In the presence of her newfound confidante, Sarah had rebuked her sister and had flatly refused to consider dismissal.

That evening, Anne had come with tears in her eyes and had told Sarah more about her dire situation. Without her income as a lady’s maid, the family had no hope of paying for her father’s legal defense. Sarah had reassured the young woman that she would not be sacked, and Anne’s pleasant demeanor returned. The two women had become such fast friends, in fact, that Sarah hardly hesitated to tell her anything, and Anne had been a willing accomplice in Sarah’s rendezvous with Charles at the Leadenhall Market.

“Prudence will be home for tea soon,” Sarah observed as she rolled up the unfinished screen and tied a ribbon around it. “No doubt she will be all achatter about the bonnets she has seen in the shops today. Mary has sent a message across the Crescent to say that she wishes to join us here at Trenton House for tea. I understand she possesses some information she believes will bring great joy.”

“I wonder what news she has heard,” Anne offered. “Perhaps it is political in nature.”

Sarah chuckled. “No doubt she has winkled some tidbit of gossip out of one of her friends and can hardly wait to tell it. I have pointed out the Bible’s teachings against spreading gossip, but my sisters continue to pursue the salacious details of every rumor they hear. I confess, I have no hope of quelling their ardor for scandal.”

With a sigh, Sarah propped her chin on her hand and frowned at the drumming rain on the panes. Ever since her secret meeting with Charles in the Leadenhall Market, her heart had been rocked by emotion. But her sisters had no idea that she was at all distressed. Once they had learned of her willingness to marry Delacroix, they could talk or think of little else. Though Sarah had forbidden them to mention a word of it to anyone—including the man himself—Prudence and Mary considered the marriage all but settled.

“Wedding gowns and churches and invitation lists are all my sisters can think about these days,” Sarah said. “Pru went visiting millinery shops today, you know.”

“She will have gathered pictures of various hats to show you.” Anne closed the sewing basket and leaned back in her chair. “I am told that quail feathers are quite the fashion on turbans these days.”

Sarah had to smile at the image of such frippery. “No doubt once Mary has regaled us with her gossip, our teatime discussion must revolve around the endlessly fascinating topic of headwear.”

“Can it be so unpleasant to talk of such things? When I was a girl, our fireside conversations often centered on lace patterns. I quite enjoyed it, for I can think of little that pleases me more than to sit with my lace pillow on my lap and my bobbins flying.”

“You have a skill with lace unlike any I have ever seen, Anne. The collar you gave me last week was exquisite. If I do marry—as it appears I must—I shall be happy to wear it on my wedding day.”

“Thank you, madam. You are too kind.” Anne set the basket on the floor between them. “I do wish you could take joy in the life God has given you, my lady.”

“As do I. But I am not accomplished in lace making or painting or anything that brings me such pleasure as your own. The only true happiness I can recall was on my recent journey.” Sarah looked out the window. “How long ago it all seems now … those days of happiness aboard the
Queen Elinor
. I was filled with my mission … so certain I was obeying God’s directive.”

“And those hours spent with Mr. Locke as he recovered,” Anne added. “They were happy times, too.”

Sarah nodded. Why had she not appreciated every minute as a golden chalice of opportunity? How could she have failed to know at once that she loved him? Now, when it was too late, love seemed the most obvious and easily discerned emotion in the world!

As a child and a young woman, Sarah had never been able to imagine love. What was it? Where did it come from? What did it mean? How could one even recognize it?

But one look into Charles Locke’s blue eyes should have been like opening the Bible directly to that wonderful passage in First Corinthians … love was long-suffering, kind, utterly lacking in envy and pride. It was virtuous, unselfish, rarely angry, and altogether without evil. Love did not rejoice in sin but in truth. It bore all things, believed all things, hoped all things, endured all things. Though God Himself was the essence of true love, on this earth the closest Sarah was likely to come to witnessing human love made flesh was in a gentleman named Charles Locke.

“He is a wonderful man,” she murmured. “How could I have failed to see it at once? What did it really matter that he wanted to build a tea enterprise?”

“That was not a sin,” Anne said softly. “It was, in fact, a most honorable aim.”

“I see now that you are right. To work hard, to provide for a family, to become the best husband and father possible…. This is all that God asks of any man.” She shook her head. “Yet I chastised and berated him for it.”