Louise Gouge - A Proper Companion

“Ah. Well, then.” Danders waved away the news as he would a fly.

“’Tis the truth, Mr. Danders.” Mrs. Brown continued to wring her handkerchief. “The cap’n here did just arrive. And furthermore, Miss Newfield’s the soul of decency. Anyone in Blandon’ll speak for her.”

“Hmm.” Danders lifted his nose and sniffed. “Ah, the smell of nuncheon. While my wife sees to the packing, I shall see to the kitchen. The pantry and all that’s in it will of course belong to the parish.” Before Edmond could respond, Danders hurried from the room.

“Will you sit, sir?” Matthews once again helped Edmond into the chair.

Frustration closed his throat. He could not think of eating. “Matthews, follow the women. See that Mrs. Danders does not mistreat Miss Newfield. If there is a dispute over any item in this house, we will not leave until this mysterious Squire Beamish has presented himself to settle the matter.” Nor will I leave until Miss Newfield is assured of a safe place to live. It was the least he could do for the sister of the man who died to save him. And only then could he return to his family’s home and begin rebuilding his own life and health. Only then could he begin to consider God’s purpose for taking a remarkable man like Peter Newfield and leaving a scoundrel like Edmond Grenville.

Chapter Two

“This is the receipt for the storage chest.” Anna held out the paper to Mrs. Danders. “My father purchased it for me nine years ago.” She lifted a prayer of thanks for Papá’s meticulous record-keeping. Had he known she would one day have to give proof of ownership for her possessions?

The woman snatched the page from Anna’s hand. “Hmm. Could be a forgery. But no matter. The trunk was bought with church money, so it belongs to the church.” She ran a finger over the chest’s finely carved lid.

“But my father purchased it with his wages. He gave it to me as a gift.” Anna’s head felt light, and she braced herself against the bedpost. “Surely it is mine.”

“Not likely.” Mrs. Danders lifted the lid and rummaged through the contents—Anna’s summer dresses recently put away for the winter and a few linen towels she had embroidered in her younger days when she had hoped to marry. “Hmm. Nothing here of value.” She dropped the lid, allowing it to slam against the base with a clunk.

Anna jumped. Her mind refused to work. Lord, am I to lose everything?

“What about jewelry?” Mrs. Danders’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that broach you’re wearing?”

Anna clutched the silver filigree pin with a tiny sapphire set in the center. “My mother’s.” Not a lie. Papá had bought it for Mamá—with his wages.

“See here now.” Major Grenville’s man, Matthews, stuck his head in the door and aimed a glare at Mrs. Danders. “The major’ll want an accounting of what you’re up to.”

Relief flooded Anna’s heart. Answered prayer! “Thank you,” she whispered to both the young man and the Lord.

“Indeed.” Mrs. Danders balled her fists at her waist and glared back at the soldier. Then she looked about the room again. “Other than the furniture and this storage chest, there’s nothing of value here. I’ll see to those books in the parlor.” She pushed past the aide and stomped down the hallway toward the staircase.

“We should follow, miss.” Matthews waved one hand in that direction.

“Yes, of course.” Anna tried to force her mind to work but other than her frantic prayers, no sensible thoughts would form. Gone were her plans to wander from room to room in a leisurely manner recalling her family’s happy years in this vicarage. Gone were her hopes of packing away one or two mementos of her loved ones to carry with her wherever she went. She could cling only to God’s promise that He would guide and take care of her, no matter what the circumstances. And that no one could take from her.

Returning to the parlor, she found the major sitting stiffly, leaning on his cane and watching Mrs. Danders like a hawk eyeing its prey. When Anna entered the room, he stood and gave her a slight bow. Before she could insist that he sit back down, she noticed Mrs. Danders pulling books from the shelf beside Papá’s chair. No, no longer Papá’s. It all belonged to the new vicar now. Anna hoped the gentleman would appreciate this small library that Papá had bought book by book, often instead of much-needed new clothes.

The pile of books on the floor toppled over, and Papá’s Bible slid across the floor.

Anna grabbed it before Mrs. Danders could. She clutched it to her chest, fighting tears. “My father brought this with him from Oxford.”

The woman snorted in a most unladylike manner. “Keep it, then.”

Mr. Danders hurried into the parlor with Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Pitcher, the baker’s wife, hard on his heels and scolding him like magpies.

“I give that to the vicar’s wife meself.” Mrs. Pitcher pointed to the delicately painted porcelain teapot in the solicitor’s hands. “It ain’t yours. It’s Miss Newfield’s. And you’ll give it to her now, or I’ll fetch the oaken rolling pin you were so anxious to put on your list.”

“And I’ll be fetching that poker by the hearth, you old thief.” Mrs. Brown’s eyes blazed.

The two women traded a look and shook hands.

Anna’s scalp tingled. God had sent her two more defenders, and perhaps in the process repaired the ancient quarrel which had long divided them. She crossed the room and grasped their still clasped hands. “Dear ladies, please do not resort to violence. Mr. Danders is merely doing his duty in cataloguing the contents of the house.” Although she could not be certain that Mrs. Danders should be involved in the work.

Mr. Danders thrust the teapot at Mrs. Pitcher and let go. She barely had time to catch it. Muttering unintelligible words, she handed Mamá’s treasure to Anna. “There you go, m’dear.”

“Thank you.” Anna accepted the precious gift and held it close, along with the Bible, fearful of dropping them, yet just as fearful of putting either down. “Mr. Danders, I appreciate your attention to detail. Perhaps you have already settled the matter of my inheritance?” At his blank look, she hastened on. “The fifty pounds annual inheritance my father arranged through Squire Beamish?”

“What? Oh, that.” He wrinkled his nose as if smelling something bad. “No, no, my dear. You misunderstood. It wasn’t fifty pounds annual. It was fifty pounds, period. And unfortunately—” he traded a smirk with his wife “—only twenty pounds are available at present.”

Anna’s head grew light. “Only twenty?” Once again, her mind refused to work as shock overtook her. Then a memory emerged. She and Papá and Peter used to play a game, one that Mamá did not care for in the least. They called it “What’s the worst thing that can happen?” Each player heaped misfortune upon an imaginary hero, all within the bounds of decency, all revealing how God could intervene and save the day. But never in their busiest imaginings had they ever burdened any fictional soul with the Job-like sorrows she had received this day. She had lost her family, her possessions and her place in the community. Now to be thrust out into the world with no place to go, she envisioned herself wandering down a muddy winter path, clutching a tattered cloth bag with her few earthly belongings, perhaps dying in a frigid snow bank on the side of the road. Picturing Peter’s playful face, she wanted to laugh. Almost.

“Ah, books.” Mr. Danders’s eyebrows arched, and he moved toward his wife. “Yes, those are worth something.”

“Hold.” Major Grenville lifted his cane across the man’s chest. “While Miss Newfield may be correct about your duty, I do not care for the manner in which you are carrying it out.”