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One evening at a family supper, during a pause in a spirited discussion over ranking marital prospects for his two elder sisters, he quietly offered up the news that he had been offered the position of curate at St. Mary-le-Bow near Cheapside.

His sisters stared at him oddly for a minute but then returned to their debate over the relative merits of title and income, and how much the more attractive visage of one particular suitor should outweigh his status as a lowly knight.

Taught their values by a superficial mother determined to advance her own social status through the marriages of her children and having lived their lives in the same house as a father with little respect for females, their considerations of marriage did not bother with concepts such as affection or respect.

The men at the table paid more attention to Jonathan’s statement.

The family attended church as a matter of course and without question, if little devotion.

Lord Maxwell went because the de Bourghs had always gone.

Not making a regular appearance in the family pew in their fashionable London church would have made as little sense to him as not collecting the rents from the tenants who farmed his estates.

He accepted as his due the deference he received upon his appearance and he perceived no moral conflict when he spent much of the time during the sermon considering such weighty concerns as whether the demands of his current mistress for increasingly expensive baubles were worth her considerable favors or if it was time to discard her in favor of a younger and more tractable girl.

His eldest sons attended with similar regularity, if even less attention.

They typically returned to their father’s house in the wee hours of the morning after a night of gambling, drinking, and whoring with just enough time for their valets to redress them in appropriate attire, apply cologne, and ply them with enough coffee to make it through the service without passing out.

Their thoughts during the sermon, when they exerted themselves to have them, were primarily focused on totting up their wins and losses at the card tables from the night before.

“You’ve been offered what ?!?” exclaimed Lord Maxwell.

“You’re going into the army like James. Or perhaps the navy…

When are you going to be done at university, boy?

We’ll need to see about getting you a commission, I suppose.

Damn fool things are getting more expensive by the year.

Can’t have a de Bourgh any lower than a lieutenant, though, so I’ll have to see about freeing up some blunt. ”

Jonathan’s eldest brothers glanced at each other—anything that might deplete their future inheritance was of great import.

“Which church was that?” asked Lewis. As the second son, he was particularly interested in minimizing the funds his father spent on his younger brothers as it directly impacted his own future finances.

He guessed correctly that the first solution that occurred to his father would be to sell off a living at Rosings Park, a family estate in Kent designated for the second son.

“St. Mary’s,” replied Jonathan. “Reverend Annesley has been raised to bishop. He asked my divinity professor if there were any promising students who would be prepared to take on the day-to-day affairs at his current parish by September. Professor Fenton suggested me and Reverend Somersby supported the recommendation.”

“Somersby! What does Reverend Somersby know about it?!” queried his father in a mild roar.

His only interaction with the personnel at the family’s church was a nod as he departed each Sunday, or possibly a “Good day” if the service had been particularly brief.

It had never occurred to him that any of his sons might purposely expand their relationship with a cleric beyond that necessary to maintain a good standing in Society.

“Annesley did you say?” asked Lady Harriet, her attention caught by the name.

“Excellent family, if a little dull. The wife was a Pettigrew, you know.” The de Bourgh sisters nodded sagely.

Edna was twenty-three with a dowry of twenty-thousand pounds and an unfortunate nose.

Edith was two years younger with a similar dowry, a more fortunate nose, and was currently enjoying the increasingly serious attentions of the elder son of the Earl of Parsley.

Their mother continued, “Juliette Pettigrew was quite popular when she made her debut. I remember how surprised we all were when she accepted Paul Annesley. The family was certainly good enough but none of us could ever understand half of what he was saying. And he didn’t like to dance, of all things. ” The sisters frowned in unison.

“ Humph . I remember Annesley at Eton. Studious chap. Not interested in sport, or cards for that matter. Always had his nose in a book. Tutors loved him. Humph .” Lord Maxwell didn’t resent those men with a more intellectual bent than himself, he simply couldn’t comprehend them and thus they weren’t worth bothering over.

He himself had spent his time at school and later university with a mob of like-minded lordlings and wealthy gentlemen, playing cricket and boxing during the day and gambling and drinking in the local pubs at night.

As long as the tuition was paid and no great offences were caught, the degree was far less important than the friendships that were formed.

So it had been for his father and so had he expected of his own sons.

The concept that one of them might wish to have more to do with the church caused him to squint oddly at Jonathan, rather as though the young man had sat down to supper wearing one of his sister’s enormous lace-trimmed bonnets.

“Since end of term, I’ve been assisting Mr. Somersby on some parish matters.

” Jonathan knew better than to add that he had been drafting sermons for the aging vicar and representing him at various meetings with other clerics to coordinate charities for the poor; his father’s eyebrows had already drawn together to resemble a single, very prickly grey caterpillar moving across his brow.

“Father, I would very much like to accept the position. It is respectable and I would greatly prefer it to the army or navy.”

In fact, Jonathan had spent enough time listening to the stories of the old soldiers and sailors at the free medical clinic where he ministered to know that he was not meant for the military.

He saw no good in the deaths and maiming of hundreds of young men on the battlefields of America or the seas off France.

“ Humph . A churchman, eh. Never really considered the idea. Respectable enough though, as you say. Cheaper than a commission, too.” Jonathan’s brothers shared another look as their father motioned to a footman to refill his wine glass but added nothing themselves.

“Well, if you’d rather a cleric’s collar than a red coat, I suppose I can speak with Annesley and consider the matter. ”

Jonathan and his brothers understood this to mean that their father would discuss the matter with his friends at the club (many the same men with whom he had been at school) and then, if no significant financial or social concern was raised, Jonathan’s course of life would be approved, if not understood.

The elder brothers let out their breath quietly and nodded in support of the decision.

They were pleased, if not for the same reasons as Jonathan .

A fortnight later, it was done. Lord Maxwell was pleased to have disposed of his youngest son with no great financial expenditure or particular effort on his part.

Lady Harriet spent a minute considering if Jonathan’s position could be used to gain any social cachet but promptly forgot the matter when perfume was dripped on the bodice of the gown Edith had chosen to wear for an afternoon garden party, rendering it unwearable and prompting a flurry of redressing.

Jonathan’s eldest brother congratulated Lewis on the continued health of his inheritance before the two left for a cock fight organized in a particularly seedy section of Seven Dials.

James, the third son, was in Brighton training with his regiment and didn’t hear the news for several months.

In all, the reassignment of Jonathan’s life from war to God was accomplished with barely a ripple in the family dynamics. Jonathan was pleased.

Jonathan de Bourgh had inherited ten thousand pounds from a maiden aunt on his father’s side.

That lady had lived out her final years in her brother’s house in London, comfortable enough but interacting with the family as little as possible.

As a child, Jonathan had crept up to her apartments almost daily and spent hours, first being read to and later reading from her extensive book collection.

An oddity in the family, she had liked the quiet, intelligent boy and taught him chess and discussed literature with him.

His best memories of boyhood were of Sunday afternoons in Aunt Madeleine’s sitting room, discussing the morning’s sermon over tea and scones with two enormous, cats purring on the chaise beside him.

When he left for school, he knew most of the scriptures by heart and could easily cite them in debate.

His father had assumed that Jonathan would supplement his inheritance, either through the accumulation of awards in his military career or by marrying a wealthy heiress.

The young man had no interest in either.

The curate’s position came with a small cottage near the parsonage and a stipend that would support his meager expenses without forcing him to dip into his inheritance.

He felt no great need to marry any time soon—the church called him and he hoped to do some good.