The Proposal (23 page)

“Get in children,” he instructed his charges when they were at the carriage on the drive. “I’ll be right with you.”

After saying this he turned Lydia aside and spoke to her.

“I haven’t told you, Lydia, how much I appreciate everything you and Palmer have done.”

Lydia stared up at him.

“And I’m sorry,” Jennings went on. “I should never have separated from you for all those years. It was foolish of me.”

Jennings then kissed his sister’s cheek and went on his way. Lydia waved when the carriage pulled from their yard, but she did so without thought.

“Is everything all right?” Palmer asked when he joined her.

Lydia related what her brother had said and ended with, “Something is happening, Palmer. Something is happening in Jennings’ heart, and I don’t know if he even recognizes it.”

“I think you must be right, Lydia. He’s changed from even the first day he arrived here.”

Lydia did not answer, but after a moment nodded and began to turn away.

“Liddy,” her husband called her back. “When we were inside, you had something on your mind when Marianne’s name was mentioned. Do you recall what it was?”

Lydia did.

“I think Marianne is having a normal female reaction to Jennings, so when he mentioned her red face, I was feeling pity for her.”

“What is a normal female reaction to your brother?”

“Oh, you know, Palmer.”

“No, Liddy, I don’t.”

Lydia cast about for the right words.

“Jennings is very tall and dark, and his good looks draw women to him. On top of that, there’s a cynical unapproachability that women find fascinating.”

Palmer could have said he was fascinated himself, but it was with his wife’s explanation of his brother–in-law, not the man himself.

“Are you trying to tell me that Marianne is falling for Jennings?”

“No,” Lydia said with conviction. “She’s much too levelheaded for that, but his nearness does affect her. She’s not as comfortable with him as she is with the other men in her life, and I’m sure that was the blushing Jennings witnessed.”

Palmer didn’t comment. These were new thoughts to him, and he was working to decide if he agreed. He prayed for Marianne. The younger woman was blessed with common sense but not immune to emotions. Palmer asked God to help her remember that she belonged to Him, and that only a marriage built in Him was to be considered.

Thornton Hall

Thursday night, a week after they moved to Thornton Hall, Penny went to sleep for the first time without mishap. If anything, this should have made Jennings more confident than ever, but the idea that had sprung on him during the weekend would not be put aside.

He sat alone before the fireplace in his bedroom, a small fire taking the chill from the air, much the way he’d done in London when he needed time to think. And think he did. His mind dwelt on the subject until he took himself to bed and slept. The idea greeted him the moment he awoke. He was distracted over breakfast, not even realizing he was, and just an hour after that meal, decided to act on his plan.

William Jennings did not believe himself to be an impetuous man. He believed he’d thought this through. So after seeing that the children were happily playing at Tipton, Jennings made his way to Blackburn Manor to call on Marianne Walker.

“You are up and about,” Jennings said when he was given entrance to the salon and Marianne greeted him while standing.

“Only just,” she told him. “I awoke this morning, and the swelling was completely gone, and I could stand without pain.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Jennings told her, and then found himself determined to speak of the business at hand. “I hope I haven’t caught you at a poor time, Miss Walker, but in truth I’ve come on business.”

“Not at all, Mr Jennings. Please sit down.”

Feeling none of the emotional pull that would normally accompany such a visit, Jennings faced his hostess squarely and presented his case.

“I’m here today, Miss Walker, to ask you to become my wife. I’ve seen how attached the children are to you, and I think you would make them a fine mother. You and I don’t know each other very well, but it wouldn’t be a normal marriage in that sense because I assume you would be spending most of your time with the children. I’ll understand if you would like to think about it and speak with your father, but you would do me a great honor if you would marry me and become mother to Thomas, James, and Penny.”

As he was speaking, color rushed to Marianne’s face before draining away swiftly. She didn’t know when she’d been so astounded, and in fact had to clear her throat before she could utter a sound.

“You pay me a great compliment, Mr Jennings,” she began quietly. “Motherhood is a most serious matter, and I am very fond of Thomas, James, and Penny, but in truth I’m not certain that my marrying you is the best thing.” Marianne kept her voice very gentle, working hard to be kind, but she could hear the tremor. “Young as Penny is, it’s not that many years before she will be a wife herself, or, at the very least, not in need of mothering. In less than ten years you would be stuck with a wife you no longer needed.”

Jennings’ face was expressionless over this, his eyes intent as he listened.

“But I must be very honest with you, Mr Jennings, and tell you that the main reason I must decline is the difference in our beliefs. I think we respect each other, but we do not agree in a matter I find most weighty, and that is a serious enough reason for me that I fear I must refuse.

“I hope this will not alter my being able to see the children. I do think so much of them.”

“Of course,” Jennings said civilly, only now seeing that he had not thought through every aspect of this union. “You must see the children. They think the world of you.”

He stood, and Marianne also came to her feet.

“I thank you for seeing me, Miss Walker. I shall take my leave now.”

“Thank you again, Mr Jennings.”

Jennings nodded seriously, placed his hat on his head, and turned on his way.

Save for the shaking she could not control, Marianne stood completely still as he left. Her ankle was completely free of pain, but there was an ache in the region of her heart that was unlike anything she’d ever known.

Chapter Thirteen

Tipton

Jennings found the Palmers in the study. Palmer had been working on his books, and Lydia had paid him a visit.

“Well, you weren’t gone very long,” Palmer commented.

“No,” Jennings replied a bit testily. “It didn’t take long for the lady to say no.”

“What lady?” Lydia asked, realizing only then that she had no idea where her brother had gone.

“Miss Walker,” Jennings said as he dropped hard into a chair.

“What did you ask?”

“I asked her to marry me, to become a mother to the children.”

“Jennings.” Lydia’s voice was all at once breathless. “Tell me you did not do this.”

“Do what?” Jennings demanded, coming back to his feet. “What crime have I committed that you look so stricken? I’m more than able to provide for the lady in question. I know she cares for the children. She mentioned the differences in our beliefs, but I sensed there was more to her rejection than that matter.”

“Calm down, Jennings,” Palmer ordered. “If this was strictly for the children, why is your pride sticking out a mile?”

“I can’t think what you mean,” Jennings said coldly.

“You’ve taken this personally. It’s written all over you.”

“And why wouldn’t I? She says my beliefs don’t measure up.”

“That’s the way she put it?” Lydia asked in disbelief, her face so upset that Jennings knew he was going to have to calm down.

“No,” he said, quieting. He walked slowly back and made himself sit down again. “She didn’t say it that way, but I can’t tell you that I’m pleased with her reasons, no matter how she put it.”

For the space of several seconds, the room was quiet. A large clock ticked on the wall as all three inhabitants of the room gathered their thoughts and attempted to calm pounding hearts.

“Jennings,” Lydia started again, “please tell me why you did this. What plan did you have?”

“Palmer has said it himself, Lydia—children need both parents. Marianne is fond of the children, and you know how they feel about her. It was only logical to me.”

Lydia sat down very slowly, her face looking more stricken than before. Seeing it, Jennings felt irritated all over again.

“Come now, Lydia. You act as though I insulted the woman by asking her! I meant no such thing. If she was insulted, then she read something wrong.”

“It’s not that,” Lydia said, just above a whisper, her eyes on the carpet. “Marianne Walker is the closest friend I have. She doesn’t make insensitive remarks. She doesn’t have cruel comments in mind waiting to be pulled out and thrown at others. She would not have wanted to say no to you because she does love the children. And she would have wanted to be as kind to you as she could possibly manage. I can’t stand the thought of her heart in pain as she chose to be obedient to God and not marry someone who doesn’t share her faith.”

For the first time, Jennings thought about Marianne’s feelings. His mind went back over the scene. She had looked well enough, quite lovely actually, when he’d come into the room, but she had looked rather pale when answering him, and he’d caught just a hint of moisture in her eyes. But that didn’t settle all of Jennings’ questions.

“What is this obedience to God you spoke of, Liddy?”

Palmer did the answering. “Scripture is very clear about marriage, Jennings. If both parties do not embrace Jesus Christ, and Him crucified, it’s called an unequal yoke.”

Jennings did not grow angry over this, but he did feel tired of it all. In some way he was told he wasn’t good enough every Sunday. At one time in his life he would have pushed all such thoughts aside, but lately he’d begun to think about the issue of sin and found the thinking process rather draining.

Long before this vital conversation should have ended, Judith was at the door. A messenger had come from Thornton Hall, attempting to deliver a message to Jennings, a message that had arrived from London. Mrs Smith’s trial would be coming up in three days.

Within the next hour Jennings made plans for his trip and for the children to stay at Tipton. Mrs Smith once again consuming his mind and Megan sitting silently across from him in the carriage, Jennings left for London without giving Marianne Walker another thought.

Blackburn Manor

“Are you busy, Father?” Marianne asked from the doorway of her father’s study.

“Never too busy for you,” he said lovingly. Marianne was glad she’d cried all the tears out in the privacy of her room. She came forward and took a seat, her head full of pain and confusion, almost wishing her father had been present when Jennings asked the question so she wouldn’t have to explain.

“What is it, Mari?” Walker said when he saw her face.

“I’ve done the most foolish thing possible.”

Such statements were not normal for his daughter, so Walker gently asked, “Can it be as bad as all that?”