EDWARD TOOK A POLITE SIP of his tea before replying to his wife. A man should never sound delighted at the news of one’s mother-in-law’s indisposition, and he checked his response with the appropriate proportion of filial concern.
“Laryngitis can be nasty.”
“She can hardly manage a word.”
What a marvelous situation, thought Edward, then meeting his wife’s eyes, he realised she too was smiling.
“It must be most unusual at home.” She seemed unable to suppress a chuckle at the thought.
“No wonder she is concerned. Do you suppose she is very ill?”
“Of course not, Edward. If she is capable of organising the exodus of the whole household to the South of France for the winter, she can hardly be as ill as her letter implies.”
“What does your father think?”
“He and his wishes are not mentioned in her letter, but I suspect he is secretly delighted. Dear old Pa has longed to winter in southern France for years, but a sense of duty has always held him back. Now that the cottage hospital is up and running and his dependents are off his hands, he can at last contemplate the idea.” She stopped to nibble her buttered toast before continuing. “Pa denies himself pleasure, but if he can tell himself that going to France is a husbandly duty prescribed by a physician, he will overcome all his puritan scruples and thoroughly enjoy the experience.”
“No excuse is better than a medical one.”
“Exactly.”
“Do you think her physician really suggested the South of France?”
“Of course not!” Sophia dropped her toast on her plate. “I can just imagine it. Mother would have suggested the idea to the doctor as he was packing up his bag and considering his fee. Absent-mindedly he would have nodded his consent, and she would have presented it to Father as a medical edict.”
“I got the impression she could not live without seeing her dear little Bertie every few weeks.”
“Mother greatly exaggerates her feelings toward anyone other than herself.”
Edward was taken aback. “Darling! Isn’t that a bit harsh?”
“Edward, I have had to live with her most of my life and have had to learn this from bitter experience.”
“Was it that bad?”
“Maybe I am guilty of exaggeration too, but she blew so hot and cold, one minute praising us and the next minute undermining any confidence we had, that we learned to be wary of her favour.”
Edward gazed at his wife with new respect and insight.
“And the way she treats you, Edward, is appalling—as if you are not good enough for me, just like she has undermined me for so many years.”
Edward leapt from his seat and kissed his beautiful wife.
“My own sweetheart! You are lovely. And the one subject on which I heartily agree with your mother is my unworthiness of you.”
“Are you not greatly distressed by the idea of not seeing your mother-in-law for three months?” asked Sophia, deflecting the subject from herself.
“As a true Englishman, I will take this blow with fortitude and a stiff upper lip.”
“You are lovely!” Laughter played on Sophia’s lips. “But may I say that you look a bit ridiculous eating that toast with your lip elongated like that.”
“Fortitude, my good lady, fortitude.”
“I bet you couldn’t kiss looking like that.”
“Then, I will prove you wrong.”
Edward was still smiling as he entered his study to peruse the plans to drain boggy-meadow. At the moment things weren’t bad. Not bad at all! Only last week Sophia had surprised him with her determination and courage by dismissing the awful nursery nurse. The old battle-axe could have made the best of men quake, but Sophia had confronted her, ordered her bags to be packed, and saw her off the premises forthwith.
She had every right to terminate her contract immediately, for the nursery maid, when searching in a cupboard normally kept locked during her dictator’s absence, had found a half-used bottle of laudanum. Having experienced months of abuse at the nurse’s hands, the maid lost no time in showing the bottle to Sophia and explaining her theory that little Bertie was sedated every night. The maid had long suspected this to be the case, since the nurse had boasted of good nights every time she put Bertie to bed, implying it was all thanks to her many years of experience and superior skill. The bottle was the proof the maid had sought for so long.
Of course, the nursery nurse denied all allegations most vehemently. She maintained that the laudanum was for her own use for backache. But Sophia was adamant: even if the nurse was being truthful (and she was convinced otherwise), Bertie was not to be nursed by a woman doped up with drugs. She had grown to dislike the overbearing woman, and this was the ideal opportunity to dismiss her. So, dismiss her she did!
The domestic team had certainly shaped up nicely. The loss of Rebecca Stubbs as housekeeper had been a huge blow, and Edward imagined he would never again have such a dedicated team of staff. But now, after a rocky couple of years, peace had been established below stairs—mainly, he suspected, due to the growing confidence of his lovely wife. The grumpy, sore housekeeper who Mrs. Harrington had triumphantly appointed to replace Rebecca had gradually lost her sourness and seemed, like a cox apple, to mellow over time in the country air. Both the haute men-servants that Mrs. Harrington had thrust upon them had found the sights and smells of rural life beneath them and had obtained positions in London, leaving Edward free to dress himself again, just as his mother had taught him to do.
Actually, Edward had always dressed himself. The thought of another man assisting him seemed ludicrous, but now he could do so without feeling as if he was slighting his servant or denying him the opportunity to advance his career. Employing only women in the house, Edward was no longer required to pay the male servant tax. Paying less tax is always gratifying.
The appointment of a new male member to the outdoor team demonstrated Sophia’s kindness. Benny was the simple son of one of the farmhands. Benny could neither read nor write, and his speech was hardly understandable, but his winning smile made him a favourite of everyone, including Sophia. She persuaded the gardener that Benny could be helpful around the grounds and in the green-houses. Benny loved his new job and especially the shiny boots he was given. Everyone who met him, whether in church or in the lane, had to admire his boots, the laces, and the sturdy soles. Every day, against all the normal rules, he knocked on the front door and presented Sophia with a bunch of seasonal flowers or foliage. His wide grin and enthusiasm were infectious, and Sophia found it no hardship to admire his footwear as well as his flowers every day. She always had a candy or biscuit to reward him. The simple arrangement received pride of place in the drawing room, as if they were from a London florist.
It still troubled Edward that he did not conduct morning and evening prayers with all his household. Many other Christian households gathered together twice a day for Scripture reading and prayer. For a long time he excused himself by admitting he was in no spiritual state to teach anyone, but now, thankfully, things were much better. Reverend Jack Hayworth’s series of sermons on Hebrews had been excellent and had rekindled Edward’s love for the Lord. He had feared that his spirit was so starved, shriveled, and close to death that it was beyond stirring, but as Jack spoke of Christ’s excellency and superiority to all the Old Testament types and shadows, Edward was drawn to his Saviour afresh.
His Saviour, what a staggering thought, that the eternal Son of God should deign to become man and die for his sins. Not like some Old Testament calf for sacrifice, struggling and being dragged to the altar, but willingly out of unfathomable love. Not like an unapproachable Old Testament high priest who, though a fellow sinner, was distant and haughty, going about his routine, but as the Great High Priest—sinless yet sympathetic and approachable. Approachable and sympathetic, even to those who have wandered off and are returning for the umpteenth time.
Grace is amazing in first converting a person, but Edward thought it was even more amazing in restoring and bearing with people like him who had been greatly blessed but had proven to be such mediocre Christians. Why hadn’t he been cut down like the barren fig tree? Why did God still bother with him? It was all thanks to God’s undeserved, patient, persistent, and unexplainable love. Truly He is “rich in mercy.”
Yes, the Lord was indeed very kind to him. He received good teaching at the parish church, his household was peaceable, his mother-in-law was out of the country, and his farm was profitable. The only thorns in his bed of roses were his pheasant-shooting companions who would soon be issuing invitations to shoot on their land and dine at their tables—and expect reciprocation. But, he reflected, he could stomach their arrogant ignorance and fine dining if it gave Sophia pleasure. She deserved a few evenings mixing with the great and good of Kent and Sussex. Just watching her be the attentive hostess to enchanted guests almost compensated for the inconvenience. She still impressed him with the grace and ease with which she circled the room, charming the corpulent men and pleasing the languid ladies.
His shooting companions were annoying, but his sharpest thorn lay closest to his rose and pained him daily. His Sophia was wonderful, but had she yet understood her need of the Saviour? She went to church, she kept Sunday, she sang a bedtime hymn to Bertie, but had she committed her soul to Christ? Edward loved her soul as much as he loved his own. He would have forfeited his place in heaven if she could have gained it. But that was all theoretical—she had to trust the One who had given up His place in heaven and forfeited his life for sinners. Edward prayed for her many times a day, yet speaking to her seemed impossible. So often he had good intentions, but when an opportunity arose, he somehow failed to make use of it, and the conversation soon moved on, leaving the important subject untouched.
Reading the Bible and praying after each meal when they had no visitors was now their regular habit, and he was pleased about that. He could say more in prayer than he would dare in an ordinary discussion, but Sophia’s only response to his devotions was a reverently whispered echo of amen at the end.
The doorbell rang and a maid attended to it, and it happened many times again. Safely closeted in his study, Edward listened to the cheerful distant hubbub of female voices and remembered that today the village charity knitting group was meeting in his parlour. How Rebecca had managed to persuade Sophia to open her doors to the gathering, he could not imagine! Mrs. Hayworth was turning into a real little vicar’s wife, delegating here and twisting arms there in such a charming manner that one ended up agreeing to things without knowing it. Imagine if the country was run by women like Rebecca and Mrs. Brookes—so much more would be accomplished in a far quieter and more reasonable way. A parliament full of determined women would be quite formidable—but this was fanciful thinking! The only women in Parliament were the tea-ladies and cleaners. Fancy the knit and natter group, as he called them, sitting in his parlour! They were probably putting the world, or at least the parish, to rights over a cup of tea, in a manner not unlike the House of Commons—plus knitting needles. I bet there is full attendance today, as they all want to inspect our interior and assess our china tea-set.