The Vicar's Daughters

Absence

Marian had been missing since breakfast. Rachel had looked in the stables, though Marian seldom was out there, preferring to walk rather than ride. She was not in the house, in the garden, or by the stream at the far end of the pasture.

"Amanda, have you not seen Marian?" Rachel asked, coming in to the morning room. Amanda shook her head and turned back to the window.

Amanda had sat there for the past several days in the mornings. She didn't do much—sometimes she read, or stitched, but usually just looked out the window onto the garden. Maman was always in the room with her, but they didn't talk. Maman was busy with her correspondence and the reckoning of the household accounts. It had been rather trying to cancel all the orders for the wedding, since sending word by post took so long. Once all the dressmaker orders in Northallerton were canceled, there were just the few left in London. Word had arrived that Madame Lanchester would not cancel one of the orders, seeing as silk was so difficult to get from France and the bodice had already been cut. Maman had simply asked her to lay it aside, and perhaps she'd get Rachel measured and use it for her at a later date.

Rachel shook her head as Maman went over her account book one more time. It was pointless, in her mind, to add it up again and again. Clearly Maman had overspent and now there were things that could not be un-bought. She went back through the hallway and out into the garden. She walked around the perimeter, looking over the hedge to the farm, over the stone wall to the haymow, and over the gooseberry canes towards Burley Park.

In the distance, she saw not Marian, but John Ellsworth. He rode his bay stallion, wearing a black coat and tall beaver cap. He seemed to be coming up the road from the moors, as he was often found doing these days. She'd heard no more jokes from the grooms about John's habits—but that could be due to pity for their "poor girls," and not from any change in John's routine.

Seeing his path made her curious. What could he do each day? Not even the most careful landlord visited the tenant farmers every day. Some project must be going on that needed his attention—something was being built, something repaired. She hoped it was a better road, or a bridge, to make the route into the moors safer.

It had been a week since John had talked to her. She'd seen him when Father and Maman had returned from the funeral, and then had talked to him briefly at church the next Sunday. In the past week, they'd had no visitors at all. If they'd had a contagious plague they may have had more compassion. But as it was, it seemed grief was so uncomfortable that avoidance was the way most of the village dealt with the subject. They sent cards and would visit later.

So Amanda, Rachel, and Marian spent quiet mornings in pursuit of art or reading (but not music—Maman had a melodramatic fit and covered the piano forte in black crepe). They spent afternoons in the garden, encouraging Amanda to get some of the last summer sunshine while they picked berries or cut back the roses. In the evenings Father often read to them. They would smile tightly, say good night, and all go to bed with a heavy sigh. They hoped it would change overnight, and woke the next day to find nothing different. The same black mood clung to the occupants of the vicarage, like the crepe on the piano, muffling their ability to hear the beat of life moving on around them.

Rachel didn't blame Marian for bursting out of the confining attitude of their house. She just wished she had mentioned where she was going, or taken a servant with her. Respectable girls didn't roam alone. Now evening was drawing nigh, and she went inside to tea.

All the family had nearly finished tea when Marian came in the back door, the creak of the hinges and shuffling of boots sounding loud in the house.

"Marian," called Maman. "Dear, you are very late."

Marian came into the parlor, holding her bonnet and gloves. "I'm sorry, everyone. I lost track of time."

"Where were you, child?" Father asked gently. "Rachel had looked in every corner of the parish, and we were about to send a hunting hound out to track your scent." He smiled lightly, but there was a look of concern about him, too.

"I walked along the River Leven. I didn't feel like going into town—I didn't have any pin money, anyway—so I got as far as the bridge then just followed the river. I got as far as Ayton when I realized how late it was, so I cut across Whitehouse Farm and came home down the south lane."

Maman clucked her tongue as Marian explained her story, but no other remonstrance was made. Rachel quietly set out another tea cup, and Marian went to hang up her bonnet and returned to sit primly with them. Amanda stared into her cup during the whole exchange.

After a few sips, Marian tried to make conversation. "I saw a new foal in the Simms' pasture."

"Hmm," said her father.

"It was a nice one, with black legs, and a very ruddy coat."

He nodded and Rachel smiled a bit.

"It looks like they are making progress on the road between Newby and Ayton. The road crew stopped to put rocks along the bank."

"Hopefully it won't cave in when the water runs high," Rachel said.

"Even better, the roads will stay dry," her father added.

Amanda sighed, pushing her cup away. "I'm tired," she said and drifted to the parlor door. All eyes followed her as she slipped down the long hall and climbed the stairs.

"I'll just see if she needs anything," Maman said. Her slippers swished as she crossed the rug and closed the door behind her.

"Did I say something wrong?" Marian asked, her lower lip protruding slightly.

"Perhaps talking of roads brings back thoughts of the accident," Rachel suggested.

Marian huffed, plunking her cup and saucer down with a slosh. "I can't do anything right," she pouted and left the room in a whirl of skirts. She was out in the garden in seconds.

Father lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "She's a bit testy."

"I'll check on her."

"No, no, let her be," he said, putting a restraining hand on Rachel's arm. "She's right to escape this dull, dreary house." He cleared his throat, moving to the corner table and leaving his cup on the tray. "Tell Maman I'll be in the stables until supper time."

Rachel nodded. Alone in the parlor, she began to gather up their tea things to bring into the kitchen.