Page 23 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #1)

Chapter Twenty-Three

MAY 12, 1817

T he country air was fresh with the scent of earth and high springtime, the sky a clear, uninterrupted blue as Colonel and Mrs. Halstead stood beside a stone wall, staring up at an ivy-covered church. They had arrived at the village the evening before, after a long day of travel. The innkeeper’s wife had answered all their questions about the church, which had stood for two centuries—and she was equally happy to tell them about the vicar and his wonderful family.

“Best minister we’ve e’er had,” she said with a firm nod. “He’s a kindly one. Not all doom and gloom and going on about our sins. He’s more the encouraging sort—wants us to love our neighbors, treat people well. I always leave the Sunday meeting feeling like the world is a good place after all.”

Edward had listened to every word with gratitude. He’d imagined both the best and worst scenarios as they’d traveled ever closer to this place. What if the vicar thought the sins of the father were on the head of the son? What if he had treated James poorly because of his origins?

He wouldn’t feel at ease until he knew for certain how his son was treated, how he had been raised. The letter from the investigator had been too brief, too spare with details. Edward had to see it all for himself.

Thankfully, his newlywed wife understood his worries. Felicity had soothed and supported him at every turn. Even now, as they walked down the lane from the small church to the vicarage, she kept her arm pressed tightly to his and pointed out the beauty around them.

“How green and glorious it is,” she said genially. “Wildflowers everywhere we look, well-tended fields, too. All the buildings in the village look as though they are well loved and kept up. This is a good community, Edward—what a wonderful place to grow up.”

“Yes. It appears to be.” He tried, and failed, to relax his shoulders again.

Their honeymoon had been quiet; peaceful and private. Exactly as Edward had hoped. They had spent mornings in companionable ease, afternoons exploring the countryside, and evenings wrapped in the warmth of their shared life, all while Daphne stayed with the Normans under their protection. Everything had been perfect.

And yet, today, there was a weight in his chest. Today, with Daphne traveling with them but politely declining their invitation for a walk, they were stepping toward the vicarage where his son lived.

Felicity’s hand curled around his arm, her steady presence grounding him. “Everything will be all right, Edward. And if it is not, we will make it so.”

He nodded again and spoke without much thought. “I know.”

“Do you?” she asked, a note of challenge in her voice.

He looked down into her eyes, finding that familiar stubborn light in them. He stopped walking and drew in a deep breath. “I know that with you as my ally, there is nothing I cannot do. Thank you, my love.”

She searched his eyes for a long moment, then smiled. She stood on her toes and leaned upward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I love you—and you are worthy of being loved. Never forget that, Edward.”

“Never,” he promised. Before he could kiss her back or offer more romantic reassurance, they heard whistling ahead of them. Edward sighed at the intrusion as his wife grinned up at him. He took her arm again and kept walking.

Ahead, the lane curved slightly and the whistler appeared. He was a young man, approaching from the opposite direction. He was tall, nearly Edward’s height, with a build that suggested he was not one to sit in idleness. His hair was dark, but as the young man drew closer and his gaze met Edward’s, the eyes stopped Edward in his tracks.

Coppery-green. His own eyes.

The young man gave them a polite, easy smile. “Good afternoon,” he said with a nod and slight touch to the brim of his hat with respect.

Felicity stiffened beside Edward. Surely she had seen it too.

Edward cleared his throat. Speak, man! “Good afternoon, sir. It is fine country you have here.”

The young man stopped walking, tilting his head slightly. “I have certainly always liked it. Are you passing through, sir?”

Edward nodded. “We are. We just came from the church and I…We are looking for the vicarage.”

The young man’s face brightened. “That would be my father’s house.”

Felicity’s grip tightened slightly on Edward’s arm as his chest rattled, his heart pacing far beyond its usual rhythm.

He swallowed, nodding once. “Then you could guide us there?”

The young man smiled, and a dimple appeared. Pamela’s dimple. “Certainly. It is not far.” He bowed. “Introductions are in order, of course. I am James Thornton.”

“I am Colonel Edward Halstead, and this is my wife, Mrs. Halstead.” Every time he introduced her thusly, Edward’s heart swelled with pride and affection. And now? Now it was all the more potent.

His wife was meeting his son.

Felicity curtsied as prettily as ever. “It is a pleasure, Mr. Thornton. Thank you for your kindness to strangers.”

He waited for them to reach him, falling into step beside Edward. They walked together, the younger man shortening his stride as Edward had, to accommodate Felicity’s shorter legs.

Felicity asked, her voice clear and certain, “Do you work with your father?”

The young man shook his head. “No, Mrs. Halstead. I help with the parish when I can, naturally, but I am apprenticed to an attorney in London.”

Edward glanced at him sharply.

The young man caught the look and grinned. “It is good work,” he said. “I had thought of the church, of course, and have a great respect for it—but I have a mind for the law, and my father has always believed that one serves best where one’s talents lie.”

Edward’s chest tightened. My father.

Felicity spoke when he could not. “Your father sounds like a wise man.”

James’s expression softened with fondness. “He is.”

Edward forced his voice to remain even. “And what will you do? After your apprenticeship, I mean?”

The young man hesitated, then smiled wryly. “Well, it will take a great deal of time, as I am earning my way—so I suppose, when I finally complete my studies, where I will go will depend on where I am most needed.”

Edward’s throat felt too tight. How did one speak—how did one breathe?

“We have come from London to tour the countryside,” his wife said quietly. “It has been a lovely journey thus far.”

They rounded the next bend, where a modest but well-kept stone cottage came into view. The young man gestured toward the house. “Here we are.”

A man knelt in the garden, pulling weeds near a small rosebush. He was older than Edward by at least a decade, kind-faced, his hands dirt-streaked from tending the soil.

“Father,” James called.

Edward’s chest tightened as the vicar rose to his feet, dusting his hands off on his trousers before looking up. The moment his gaze landed on Edward, something shifted in his expression. At first there was a moment of confusion, and then somehow, recognition. The vicar’s gaze flickered briefly to Felicity, then back to Edward.

“I send you off to fetch the post and instead you deliver me guests. Was there ever so fine a son?” the vicar asked, smiling broadly as he came forward. “I am Roger Thornton, the vicar of this parish.”

“Father, this is Colonel Halstead and his wife, Mrs. Halstead,” James said. “They were admiring the church and have now come to admire its vicar.” His tone had a teasing quality to it, and an affectionate one. “They came all the way from London.”

“Welcome,” the young man’s father said warmly. “You have come a long way to admire churches and vicars.”

Edward saw the caution in the other man’s eyes—and perhaps he did not imagine the sadness there, too. “We are touring the countryside with our niece, who is resting at the inn. London is somewhat crowded and exhausting this time of year.” He looked down at Felicity, then up at the vicar. “My wife and I would like to know more about the village and community. The kind people at the inn suggested we speak with you.”

James chuckled. “Father is a great lover of history. You came to the right place.”

The vicar nodded, giving his son an affectionate smile. “Thank you, James. Now, will you please finish taking those letters to the post? I wish them to go out on the next mail coach.”

The young man nodded, excusing himself with a polite nod to Edward and Felicity before striding down the lane, whistling cheerfully again.

The moment he was out of earshot, the vicar turned to Edward. “Forgive me, sir, but I speak plainly when I meet a gentleman with just the same eyes as…as my son. I do not know what circumstances led to my son coming into my life,” he said, tone growing firm as he met Edward’s gaze without judgment. “Or if you intend to take him out of it now. But I will say that I am grateful, eternally so, for every minute of being that boy’s father.” There were tears in his eyes, and his voice shook as he continued. “He and his sisters have been my greatest joy. They were my late wife’s as well. Nothing in this world will ever change how much I love him.”

Edward’s eyes filled with tears and he reached out to put his hand on the vicar’s shoulder, a touch reserved for only those men held close to his heart through kinship or battle. “Sir, I thank you. Thank you for loving him. I did not even know—his existence a secret, kept from me for so long—but you were there. Thank you.”

It was not a brilliant speech, nor entirely clear, but the vicar stepped forward and embraced Edward as though they were brothers. Edward returned the gesture, and found he did not feel the least ashamed by the tears rolling down his cheeks.

When they parted, he looked first at Felicity to find her wiping her eyes with a handkerchief, then at the vicar, who was trying to find his own linen square. Edward handed over his, not touching the wet trails on his own face.

“Would you like to come inside?” the vicar asked hopefully. “No one else is home at present and you must have things you wish to say.”

“Not say—I have so many things I wish to ask,” Edward corrected, reaching for Felicity’s hand. “But first I must reassure you, sir. I will not take him from you. I cannot see how that would be anything other than a terrible, terrible mistake. I have already made enough of those.”

The vicar looked to Felicity, his smile slight. “You will not—but I presumed… You…you are not his mother, then?”

She slowly shook her head. “I am not. But I am here in full support of my husband, and so in full support of young James, and of you, Reverend Thornton.”

Reverend Thornton’s smile grew, and he looked up at Edward with a gleam in his eye. “I am glad you found yourself such a companion, Colonel. Now, let us go inside. There is much to discuss, I think—and likely to decide, too.”

They were there for an hour before James returned, with two younger sisters in tow, from visiting friends in the village. Mr. Thornton invited Edward and Felicity to return for dinner the next evening, but he did not hurry them away, instead asking James to show Edward something on the vicarage farm.

Grateful for the privacy granted him, Edward followed James eagerly, listening to every word the young man said.

He had decided, with Felicity’s support and the vicar’s approval, that it was not yet time to tell James of his parentage. The young man knew he was adopted; he knew that his birth mother had been unwed, and nothing more. He was intelligent and kind…and he was happy in his life.

But that did not mean changes could be made. In a quiet, steadier voice than he had expected possible, Edward offered to sponsor the boy’s studies. He first asked the Reverend Thornton, but he put the idea to James the following evening at dinner.

“But why me, Colonel?” the young man asked, eyes wide. One of his sisters sat on one side of him, Daphne on the other, her eyes on his profile before turning to look at Edward.

“You strike me as someone who will make the most of your education,” Edward said, his heart full that he could make this gesture. “I have no doubt you will help many in your career. Sponsoring you will be an honor—and in return, I only ask that you let me host you at my home near London from time to time. Or write to me of your progress.”

“Yes, Colonel. Of course.” James looked to his father. “If you approve, Father?”

The vicar chuckled, then inclined his head. “I approve. Your mother would, too. As always, use this opportunity for your betterment and the good of others. We never know who we will meet in this wide world, whether they will have need of us or us need of them, but we can walk each day in the spirit of love and gratitude. I think this will be the beginning of new and wonderful things. For all of us.”

“I quite agree,” Felicity said, looking up at Edward with a gleam in her dark eyes. “It is a marvelous beginning.”

“Goodness,” Daphne said with a little shake of her head. “And I thought the most interesting story I would ever be part of had already come to an end.”

Edward raised his eyebrows at her. “And what story would that be?”

“Oh, yours of course, Uncle Edward—and Aunt Felicity. The best stories end with weddings, you know,” smiled his niece by marriage. “I thought we settled yours rather nicely.”

The vicar chuckled at that. “Miss Price, weddings are not endings either. Not in life. They are always at the beginning of the best stories.”

After dinner, they walked back to the village, Felicity’s hand in his. “This is a rather marvelous beginning, is it not? And I had thought I was close to the end, that my story had been told. I would be the spinster aunt forever, coming around at holidays to spoil Daphne’s children.” She laughed softly.

Edward looked down at her, his heart full, his future no longer a vast, empty thing. He lifted her hand to his lips, as he so loved to do. “You can still spoil any of her future children,” he pointed out helpfully as Daphne walked ahead of them, talking animatedly with James, who had volunteered to accompany them on their return to the inn. “But I have hope you will not mind being a wife instead of a spinster.”

“I will not mind in the least.” She raised her beautiful dark eyes to his. “Nor will I mind being both an aunt and…and perhaps someday, a mother.”

There, in the twilight of a country lane, with his wife beside him, their niece and his son ahead of him, and a future full of hope before him, Edward Halstead knew he had found peace at last.