Her Longed-For Family. Jo Brown Ann
From the cold or his obvious rushing, or was he blushing as every eye in the sanctuary was aimed at him? His greatcoat had fallen open, and she noticed his waistcoat was covered with dust and grime. Had he come from the mines?
From the pew across the aisle, Charity Thorburn scowled in their direction. The woman seldom smiled, and she seemed happiest when she was finding fault with others. Caroline had learned to ignore her petty comments. Mrs. Thorburn had always been prickly, but since her husband’s death, her bad temper had taken a turn for the worse.
“When they are late, most people remain at the back of the church,” Caroline could not resist saying to Lord Warrick with a smile.
“I thought, by now, you would have known I don’t do things the proper way. Besides, there was not any room there.” He gestured toward the pew where she sat with the children and asked again, “May I?”
“Of course.” She edged aside, continuing to bounce Joy on her knee.
Letting the prayer book drop with a thump on to the wooden pew, Gil scrambled over her lap and sat between her and the baron. He began to tell Lord Warrick about everything that had happened that morning, his voice rising with his excitement.
Caroline put her finger to her lips and whispered, “Remember? As quiet as a church mouse, Gil. Parson Raymond is about to begin the service.”
The little boy nestled against her side, and she put her other arm around him. It was easier to cuddle him now that Joy was able to sit up on her own. She thanked God as she had every day since the children were brought ashore. There had been an emptiness in the Trelawney family since the deaths of her mother and her husband. Six small children helped fill that void.
Toby, the boy they guessed was the oldest, was perched on her sister-in-law Elisabeth’s lap. He had recently begun to call Elisabeth mama and announced he wanted to be a parson like his “papa.” The twin girls who sat on either side of her sister, Susanna, were about a year younger, and they were blossoming in the care of Susanna and her husband. The irrepressible Bertie was close to Toby’s age, and the only time Caroline ever saw him sit still was in church.
Lord, I know I should not ask for You to let the children remain with us because there must be families missing them. You have a plan for them as You do for each of us. I cannot help hoping that plan includes the children staying with us a while longer.
She murmured a silent, “Amen,” before turning her attention to the verse Raymond had chosen for the service.
He read from the eighteenth Psalm: “For who is God save the Lord? Or who is a rock save our God? It is God that girdeth me with strength, and maketh my way perfect.”
Bending her head to hide her smile, she knew her brother could not have chosen a more apt verse that morning. Her heart felt more at ease by the time they stood to sing a final hymn at the end of the service.
“Talk now?” asked Gil before her brother had time to step from the raised pulpit.
“Yes,” she said with a chuckle. “But talk while you put on your coat.”
Gil picked it up and frowned when it was upside down. He tried turning it, but now he had it inside out and upside down.
“Let me help you, young man.” Lord Warrick winked over Gil’s head at her.
“Thank you,” she said.
Neither Lord Warrick nor Gil heard her reply because they were chatting again. Gil was very anxious about whether it would snow soon or not. As the baron answered him, explaining about wind currents and storm clouds, the little boy listened in fascination. Somehow, Lord Warrick made the information simple enough for a child but did not sound as if he were talking condescendingly to Gil.
Putting Gil’s hat in place, the baron said, “Now it is Lady Caroline’s turn.” He lifted her coat from the pew and held it up for her to put her arms through the sleeves. As she did, he said more softly, “I do have a few manners.”
“More than a few.” She hoped he had not felt her quiver as his warm breath caressed her nape. “Thank you.” She edged away as far as she could in the narrow space between the pews.
“And thank you for letting me sit with you and the children.” He stepped into the aisle, which was emptying quickly as the parishioners went out the door. “I was late because I foolishly decided to go into the attic to see what might be available for making the house ready for my family.”
“What did you find?” she asked as she halted Joy from tearing a page from the prayer book and stuffing it in her mouth as she did with everything.
“A jumble extraordinaire. Crates and furniture and luggage and trash in no visible order. The truth is I have no idea where to begin. I moved dozens of boxes and trunks, but didn’t make a dent in what has been tossed any which way into the attic. I wonder how many generations have left their castoffs up there and forgot about them.”
She laughed as she put Joy’s new light blue coat on the baby. “Mother insisted every year that we go through the attic and discard anything with no further use. We despised being up there in the heat, because it was hot even in the spring. Did you find anything you can use?”
“Not yet, but I found stacks of wool blankets. I counted more than a score of boxes of woolen blankets before I stopped. Even if I had two beds set up in every bedroom, there would be enough to put five on each bed. Most had moth holes, but a good number of the blankets are still thick.” He hesitated, then said, “I need your opinion about what might be a contentious issue. You know the stubborn Cornish better than I do.”
“Because I am one of them.”
“I meant no offense.”
“None taken.” She smiled as she finished tying the ribbons on Joy’s tiny hat.
“See? I already am making a bumble-bath of this.”
She picked up the baby. “Say what you need to, my lord.”
“When I saw those blankets, I thought about the children at the mining village. Do they have coats for the coming winter? As a child, mine was sewn from scraps my mother salvaged from old blankets or one of my father’s coats. I would gladly give the blankets to the miners’ families, but they are very proud people.”
“So you are wondering if they would accept them?”
“Yes, and if they will, how can I be certain the blankets will be distributed fairly?”
Drawing Joy’s little fingers away from the silk flower on her bonnet, Caroline said, “I suggest you speak to Raymond. As our parson, he knows which families are in need.”
“Good. I knew you would have a solution for me.”
“By passing you along to my brother. That is hardly a solution.”
“Nonsense.” He took Gil by the hand and led the way down the aisle. “You set me on the right track.” As they stepped outside, he turned up his collar and said, “Confound it, it is cold today. Feels more like mid-January than the end of November.”
“I hope this winter is not as unforgivingly cold as last year.” She moved around the church to get out of the wind.
He followed, but looked around the churchyard. “I recognize some of these people from my estate. I assumed they were attending church at that parish.”
“Recently they have been coming here because your parson has been ill. Raymond offered to go there to lead the services, but it was decided they come here so your parish church doesn’t have to be heated.” She let Joy kick her feet against the ground as if walking. “And you are here today, as well.”
“As I told you, I wanted your advice.”
She lowered her eyes from his steady gaze. How could she have failed to notice the amber flecks in his hazel eyes before now? They seemed to change intensity with his emotions, glowing like melted gold.