Forget it!”
“How about…how about your daughter’s hand?”
Gerald Warden spoke softly and calmly, but Terence reeled as though Warden had struck him.
“You’re out of your mind! You don’t seriously mean to woo Gwyneira? The girl could be your daughter.”
“I would wish for just that with all my heart.” Gerald tried to imbue his voice and gaze with as much sincerity and warmth as he could muster. “Because my proposal is not for myself, naturally, but for my son, Lucas. He is twenty-two years old, my only heir, well bred, full grown, and clever. I could easily picture Gwyneira at his side.”
“But not I,” Terence retorted rudely, stumbling and seeking support from his chair. “Gwyneira belongs to the high nobility. She could marry a baron!”
Gerald Warden laughed. “With almost no dowry? And don’t fool yourself; I’ve seen the girl. She’s not exactly what the mothers of baronets dream of.”
Terence Silkham was incensed. “Gwyneira is a beauty!”
“That’s true,” Gerald reassured him. “And no doubt she’s the jewel of every fox hunt. I wonder if she’d shine as brightly in a palace though. She’s a wild young thing, my lord. It’ll cost you twice as much to fetch the girl a husband.”
“I should challenge you to a duel!” Terence Silkham exclaimed in a rage.
“I’ve already challenged you to one.” Gerald Warden raised the cards. “Let’s play. You shuffle this time.”
The host reached for his glass. His thoughts were racing. This was entirely contrary to custom. He couldn’t bet his daughter in a card game. This Warden had lost his mind. On the other hand…such a transaction wouldn’t hold up. Gaming debts were honorable debts, but a girl was not an acceptable wager. If Gwyneira said no, no one could force her aboard a ship bound for faraway shores. Then again, it wouldn’t even have to come to that. He would win this time. His luck had to turn sometime.
Terence shuffled the cards—not ponderously as usual, but fast, as though he wanted to put this debasing game behind him as quickly as possible.
Almost in a rage he dealt Gerald a card. He gripped the rest of the deck with trembling hands.
The New Zealander turned over his card without showing any reaction. The ace of hearts.
“That’s…” Terence didn’t say another word. Instead, he drew a card himself. Ten of spades. Not bad at all. The lord attempted to deal with a steady hand but shook so much that the card fell onto the table in front of Gerald before he could reach for it.
Gerald Warden did not even make an attempt to keep the card hidden from view. He serenely laid the jack of hearts next to his ace.
“Blackjack,” he said calmly. “Will you keep your word, my lord?”
3
T hough this was not her first time here, Helen’s heart raced as she stood before the office of St. Clement’s parish priest. She usually felt quite comfortable inside these walls, so like those of her father’s parish. Reverend Thorne was, moreover, an old friend of the late Reverend Davenport. A year earlier, he had helped Helen secure the position at the Greenwoods’ and had even taken her brothers in for a few weeks before Simon first, and then John, found rooms through their student fraternity. Though the boys had been happy to move out, Helen had been less pleased about it. Thorne and his wife not only let her brothers live with them for free but even helped out a little, while room and board in the fraternity house cost money and offered the students distractions not necessarily conducive to their academic progress. Helen often aired her grievances to the reverend over that. In fact, she spent many of her free afternoons in the Thornes’ house.
However, she didn’t expect to enjoy a relaxing cup of tea with the reverend and his family on her visit that day, and the booming, joyful “Enter with God!” with which he usually greeted his flock did not sound from his rectory either. Instead, Helen could hear a
“How about…how about your daughter’s hand?”
Gerald Warden spoke softly and calmly, but Terence reeled as though Warden had struck him.
“You’re out of your mind! You don’t seriously mean to woo Gwyneira? The girl could be your daughter.”
“I would wish for just that with all my heart.” Gerald tried to imbue his voice and gaze with as much sincerity and warmth as he could muster. “Because my proposal is not for myself, naturally, but for my son, Lucas. He is twenty-two years old, my only heir, well bred, full grown, and clever. I could easily picture Gwyneira at his side.”
“But not I,” Terence retorted rudely, stumbling and seeking support from his chair. “Gwyneira belongs to the high nobility. She could marry a baron!”
Gerald Warden laughed. “With almost no dowry? And don’t fool yourself; I’ve seen the girl. She’s not exactly what the mothers of baronets dream of.”
Terence Silkham was incensed. “Gwyneira is a beauty!”
“That’s true,” Gerald reassured him. “And no doubt she’s the jewel of every fox hunt. I wonder if she’d shine as brightly in a palace though. She’s a wild young thing, my lord. It’ll cost you twice as much to fetch the girl a husband.”
“I should challenge you to a duel!” Terence Silkham exclaimed in a rage.
“I’ve already challenged you to one.” Gerald Warden raised the cards. “Let’s play. You shuffle this time.”
The host reached for his glass. His thoughts were racing. This was entirely contrary to custom. He couldn’t bet his daughter in a card game. This Warden had lost his mind. On the other hand…such a transaction wouldn’t hold up. Gaming debts were honorable debts, but a girl was not an acceptable wager. If Gwyneira said no, no one could force her aboard a ship bound for faraway shores. Then again, it wouldn’t even have to come to that. He would win this time. His luck had to turn sometime.
Terence shuffled the cards—not ponderously as usual, but fast, as though he wanted to put this debasing game behind him as quickly as possible.
Almost in a rage he dealt Gerald a card. He gripped the rest of the deck with trembling hands.
The New Zealander turned over his card without showing any reaction. The ace of hearts.
“That’s…” Terence didn’t say another word. Instead, he drew a card himself. Ten of spades. Not bad at all. The lord attempted to deal with a steady hand but shook so much that the card fell onto the table in front of Gerald before he could reach for it.
Gerald Warden did not even make an attempt to keep the card hidden from view. He serenely laid the jack of hearts next to his ace.
“Blackjack,” he said calmly. “Will you keep your word, my lord?”
3
T hough this was not her first time here, Helen’s heart raced as she stood before the office of St. Clement’s parish priest. She usually felt quite comfortable inside these walls, so like those of her father’s parish. Reverend Thorne was, moreover, an old friend of the late Reverend Davenport. A year earlier, he had helped Helen secure the position at the Greenwoods’ and had even taken her brothers in for a few weeks before Simon first, and then John, found rooms through their student fraternity. Though the boys had been happy to move out, Helen had been less pleased about it. Thorne and his wife not only let her brothers live with them for free but even helped out a little, while room and board in the fraternity house cost money and offered the students distractions not necessarily conducive to their academic progress. Helen often aired her grievances to the reverend over that. In fact, she spent many of her free afternoons in the Thornes’ house.
However, she didn’t expect to enjoy a relaxing cup of tea with the reverend and his family on her visit that day, and the booming, joyful “Enter with God!” with which he usually greeted his flock did not sound from his rectory either. Instead, Helen could hear a
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