Page 46 of Eight for Losing, One for Loving

“Your adopted parents are kind, however?”

Vi smiled, nodding. “They’re wonderful.”

“Sometimes we lose wonderful things, wonderful people, but our lives would be so much the poorer if they had not been in it at all,” the reverend said, watching her closely.

Vi looked up at him and saw the sympathy in his eyes.

“My wife died, Miss Spencer. She was…” He paused, smiling as his eyes grew misty. “She was the greatest joy of my life, my love, my soulmate, and I miss her every day.”

“Oh, I’m so terribly sorry.”

“So am I. But how much sorrier I would be if I had not married her? We had ten wonderful, magical years. Not nearly enough, but she left me a daughter who is the image of her and brings me great joy. I have a grandson now too, who is a delightful little chap. All these things would have been missing from my life if I had allowed the fear of losing them to stop me from living.”

Vi stared at him for a moment and then burst into tears.

Harbottle got up and pressed a neatly folded handkerchief into her hands. “I came prepared for once,” he told her with a smile. “You have a good cry. Don’t mind me. I’m quite used to it. Do it myself now and then when I’m feeling blue devilled.”

Vi did as he suggested, quite unable to stop, for the tears kept coming as though some dam had burst, the emotions surging through her in an unstoppable torrent. When she finally subsided, Harbottle smiled at her.

“I do not think Mr Hunt is still the reckless young man we have both read so much about. There comes a time in every man’s life when he realises he needs to grow up, that he wants something more than the company of his friends, and the things that excited him for so many years suddenly become devoid of interest. It takes some men longer than others, but as I said, Mr Hunt knows his own mind. The only question is, Miss Spencer, do you?”

Vi swallowed, taking in his words carefully, thinking them over. “I’ve spent so many years worrying about him, worrying he’ll hurt himself, kill himself, worrying I’m too old, that… that I cannot compare to his mistresses, that I could not hold his attention.”

“You seem to have his attention from where I’m sitting,” Harbottle said with a smile.

“But can I keep it?” Vi demanded.

Harbottle shrugged. “I cannot tell you the future, but I can tell you that two people who love and respect each other and are willing to be honest and speak to each other from the heart, will never go far wrong.”

Vi nodded, understanding that she was the one who had been keeping herself apart. Leo had tried to be open with her, tried to talk to her, but she had shut him out. That had been unfair and unkind.

“One other thing, Miss Spencer,” the reverend said, leaning forward in his chair. “Why do you love Mr Hunt? I think that is something you need to consider, for the young man I just spent the morning with was dispirited and out of sorts, not at all the man I think he really is. He is determined to spend the rest of his days becoming a respectable, quiet and dull sort of fellow, for he believes that is the only way you will ever trust him and agree to be his wife. Perhaps you ought to think about that, and about what it is you really want.”

With that, Harbottle got to his feet, holding his hand out to Vi. She stood and took his hand, and the vicar squeezed her fingers gently.

“Courage, Miss Spencer. Life is for living and loving, for making the most of the blessings the good lord has deigned to put before us. He wants us to be happy, my dear, but we have to meet him halfway and take advantage of those chances if we want to be all that we are capable of being. Don’t let fear stand in the way of your dreams, for you will have a long time to regret the loss of them.”

With that, he patted her hand, gave Mau another friendly stroke, and went out.

Vi watched the door close behind him and stood staring at it for a long moment, only roused when Mau got up and began rubbing himself about her legs. Vi got down on the floor, her back against the wall as Mau stepped delicately over the billowing fabric of her gown and settled down in her lap.

“Oh, Mau,” she said, tears pricking at her eyes. “I’ve been the most stupid, stupid fool.”

Mau pushed his nose under her hand, seeking another caress and purring sonorously.

“What should I do? I don’t want Leo to be dull and respectable, I just don’t want him to kill himself.”

Large yellow eyes blinked up at her. Mau’s placid gaze implied the answer was obvious, if only she thought about it.

“How do I prove to him I don’t want him to change, not really?”

A knock at the door interrupted any answer Mau might have provided and Vi sighed.

“Yes?”

“It’s Jenny, Mrs Huntingdon. There’s a Lady Trevick downstairs asking for you. I told her you were occupied when you were talking to the reverend and put her in a private parlour, but now she’s getting impatient so I said I would see if you were at home.”

Mama! Lud!