“Thank you,” Marianne replied as she moved that way, thinking a frame was just the thing to finish off this gift. Had Marianne watched the painter at work even a moment longer, she might have seen that William Jennings, having just arrived from London, had spotted his charge from the window and was swiftly coming inside.
“Penny!” he said, causing that little girl to start. “Where are Thomas and James?”
Penny, thinking she was in trouble, sat very still and said, “I don’t know.”
“Is Lydia here with you?”
“No,” Penny told him, her voice even smaller.
“Hello, Mr Jennings,” Marianne suddenly spoke from his side.
Jennings turned to her.
“We thought you were in London.”
Jennings looked down at the woman beside him, all sorts of questions coming to mind. Only one emerged.
“Did you?”
“Yes. Did you have a successful trip?”
“Yes.”
“Marianne?” Penny was at her feet now.
“Yes, dear.”
“He’s all done.”
“Oh, how lovely. Come and help me with the frame.”
Jennings watched in amazement as Penny accompanied this woman to a shelf full of frames, and he would have gone on watching if his sister hadn’t come in the door behind him.
“Well, Jennings, you’re back!” She went to give him a hug. “How did it go?”
“It went well,” he said in near automation. “How are things here? How are the children?”
“Doing splendidly. How did the painting turn out, Marianne?”
“See for yourself.”
The small painting of Penny was exclaimed over by both ladies, and Jennings watched in some amazement as even Penny smiled in delight.
“Thank you,” Marianne said to Mr Clay as she paid him for his services.
“You are most welcome.”
Jennings followed a chattering threesome back outside, and not until Lydia glanced at her brother’s face did she realize something was wrong. The reason for his somber expression came to her a moment later.
“Oh, Jennings, forgive us. I don’t think you remember Marianne Walker, and here we are talking without you.”
“Oh, Mr Jennings!” Now it was Marianne’s turn. “I’m so sorry. I remembered you, but you must have wondered who had taken Penny.”
“It’s all right,” Jennings said, but not in a manner that Marianne found convincing.
“And the portrait—” she continued, feeling she must go on, “I should have waited and checked with you. Again, I’m sorry.”
“Please, Miss Walker, don’t trouble yourself. It’s fine.”
Mentally Lydia thought it might be best if they cut their shopping a bit short. The girls did need one final item, but it was in a shop up the street and could be obtained swiftly.
“I’m going to take Penny to the next block,” Lydia now began, wanting to rescue her brother. “Why don’t we meet at the carriage in fifteen minutes?”
“All right,” Marianne answered before Jennings could remind his sister that he had his own coach. Seeing, however, that it would be best to walk Miss Walker to her carriage and not leave her stranded on the street, he kept this to himself.
They started down the street, their pace slow, and Jennings’ silence making Marianne more uncomfortable by the second. A scene across the street had arrested Jennings’ attention until he was quite absorbed. Taking in his frowning features, Marianne was certain she must apologize again.
“I fear that we have offended you, Mr Jennings. I’m so sorry.”
Jennings’ creased brow did not immediately relax, even when he looked down at his companion, and it took a few moments for that gentleman to see that he was going to have to be very honest.
“I assure you, Miss Walker, I am not at all distressed by your outing with Penny or by the painting, and to prove it to you, I’ll tell you why I was just looking so distracted. Do you see that young couple over there?”
Marianne looked in the direction he indicated.
“Yes.” She studied them a moment. “It appears as though the young lady has hurt herself.”
“Indeed, she has not,” Jennings stated with quiet conviction, “but that young man doesn’t know it. She waited until he walked a few feet past her, then grabbed her ankle and cried out in pain.”
“Oh, my,” Marianne said softly, wondering at the woman’s charade, but also at her companion’s tone.
“I abhor pretense,” he went on sincerely. “Especially in women who feign injuries like sprained ankles, soot to the eyes, or pretending to have her horse run off with her in order to gain a man’s attention.”
Marianne nodded but didn’t reply. Indeed she had nothing to say.
For a time they walked in silence, each deep in thought.
“Blackburn Manor,” Jennings said very quietly when they were quite near the coach.
Marianne looked at him.
Jennings glanced sideways at her, his face softened somewhat with a self-derisive smile.
“I’ve been away longer than I thought,” Jennings admitted. “I’ve only just fully realized who you are.”
Marianne smiled at him.
Jennings shook his head. “I don’t know when I’ve managed to be so rude.”
“It has been a few years,” Marianne said graciously, and silently Jennings agreed with her. The last time he had seen this woman she’d been about eighteen, and although not unbecoming at the time, the years had been good to her. If memory served, she was more attractive now than she was then.
“Marianne!” Penny’s voice suddenly drew his thoughts, and Jennings had all he could do not to look stunned as Penny ran to hug the woman beside him.
“Not until after we’d left, Jennings,” Lydia was saying as she caught up, and that man tried to attend, “did I realize you must have your own coach. Why don’t you send him on to Tipton and ride with us?”
Jennings barely managed to agree. He gave instructions to his driver and joined his sister and Marianne, still trying not to gawk at the change in Penny. As he watched, she climbed into the carriage and cuddled up to Marianne, her face looking sleepy and content.
When Marianne bent and spoke to her, Jennings took a moment with his sister.
“Did I actually hear Penny call her Marianne?”
“It’s our fault, Jennings,” Lydia said for his ears alone. “Marianne is like a sister to our own brood. They only know her by Marianne, and your children have naturally followed suit.”
Jennings was quiet. It wasn’t just his sister’s words about the children calling Marianne by her first name that he was mulling over, but also her reference to “his children.” He hadn’t thought of Thomas, James, and Penny in that light, but they were indeed his; they even bore the Jennings name.
“I hope you’ll come in when we get back to Tipton, Mari.”
“Oh, thank you, I will. I wonder how the girls are feeling.”
“I’ve been wondering that myself.”
“Were Emma and Lizzy sick?” Jennings wished to know.
“Too much candy,” Lydia told him, feeling more compassion now than she had earlier. At the moment she was glad to be going home to them.
“What were the boys going to do today?” Jennings asked next.
“This morning they had some plans of their own, but eventually Palmer was going to give them an early tea and take them riding.”
Jennings had no other comment, but he hoped the boys would be there when he arrived. The changes going on inside of him were all at once strange and a little frightening, but he wanted to be with these children; he wanted to see firsthand that they were well. Having Penny across the carriage from him, happy and obviously in good health, did much for his heart, but he couldn’t completely rest until he saw Thomas and James and knew they were fine as well.
Tipton
“Can you tell us what happened in London?” Palmer asked much l
ater that day. Marianne was still present, so Palmer had explained the situation to her, thinking nothing of her joining them.
“Yes,” Jennings answered immediately, also not seeming to mind the second woman’s presence. “The judge knew my maid, and based on her testimony he held Mrs Smith over for trial. They’ll notify me when she goes before the judge.”
“But they did keep her?” Lydia asked.
“Yes. I’m not sure what would have come up without Megan’s testimony, but the judge took her word for everything.”
“Why wouldn’t he have taken your word?” Marianne asked.
“Because I didn’t have Penny with me. I’m sure the bruises are probably gone by now, so I can’t see what good it would have done, but he expected to see the child. It’s lucky for me that Megan saw the bruises because the judge was willing to accept everything she said.”
Lydia stopped just short of telling her brother that she had been praying the whole time. She wasn’t sure he would want to hear it. She would have said something if Marianne had not been present, but she didn’t want to risk embarrassing him.
The door opened while these thoughts still rolled in Lydia’s mind. Emma poked her head in. Her stomach and Lizzy’s were quite settled now, and because the boys had gone riding that day, they were looking for someone to take them out in one of the pony traps.
“It’s going to be dark soon,” Palmer explained, but his daughters’ faces looked completely let down. It was certainly their own fault that they’d eaten too much candy, but in truth it hadn’t been a very fun day for them.
“I’ll come out with you,” Jennings spoke up, surprising Palmer and Lydia.
“Oh, thank you!” Emma and Lizzy exclaimed. Penny had enjoyed a long outing that day, so her enthusiasm could not match theirs. Nevertheless, she was happy to go along, and a short time later, Jennings was giving them a ride up the drive to the stable. He thought they would have to take turns, but as little as they were, they all fit next to him on the seat.
“What pony is this?” Penny asked Emma at one point.
“I think this is Bessy.”
“No,” Lizzy spoke up. “Bessy has a short tail. This is Fern.”
“Oh, that’s right. I think this is the one that kicks sometimes.”
Jennings found himself smiling at the serious voices next to him.
“Uncle Jennings,” he now heard, just as he felt a small tap on his arm.
“Yes, Lizzy?”
“Where’s your wife?”
Jennings smiled at how swiftly they’d gone from ponies to wives but said only, “I don’t have a wife.”
“How come?”
“Elisabeth!” her older sister scolded, and Lizzy dropped her eyes in embarrassment.
Jennings knew she had been impertinent, but he was tempted to tell her it was all right. Her voice had been so sweet and sincere.
With a glance to his side he caught Penny’s eye. She was looking at him as though she wished for an answer too. He wasn’t about to tell these three little girls his view on marriage, but he did admit to himself that suddenly having three children would have been easier if he had the help Palmer did in his sister.
“We go to church tomorrow,” Lizzy said. “I have a new dress.”
“It’s not very new, Lizzy,” Emma pointed out.
“It is, Emma,” the youngest of the group insisted.
Jennings glanced their way to see if they would actually argue and this time caught Penny in a huge yawn. Knowing his nieces might protest, he turned the trap around just a few minutes later. There would be time tomorrow for more pony rides if they wished, but Penny’s tired eyes and drooping shoulders were not something Jennings’ heart could ignore.
“I saw Anne Gardiner in town today,” Lydia told Palmer as she climbed into bed. That man was already sitting in bed, his pillow pushed against the headboard, the lantern turned high, and the paper in his hand. He set the paper aside but kept the lamp bright.
“You did? How is she?”
“Doing well. She says her father’s state of mind makes it difficult at times to leave the house, so I was thankful that we had a few moments.”
“Was that before or after Jennings found you?”
“Just before. Do you know,” Lydia wondered as she shifted her pillow and rolled to her side to see her husband, “I never did ask him what he was doing in town. I would have thought he’d have come right to the house.”
“He didn’t say what he was about?”
“No. We were still in Mr Clay’s shop and, well, we just didn’t speak of it.”
“That picture is remarkable,” Palmer commented, thinking of the miniature of Penny. It was now hanging in the room she still shared with her brothers. “We should have our girls done.”
“I was hoping you would say that,” Lydia smiled at him. “It’s been more than a year since we’ve had any portraits done, and children change so fast.”
Palmer smiled at her and scooted down in the bed, bringing his pillow with him.
“Do you think Jennings will come to church with us in the morning?”
“He didn’t say, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking right now.”
“I hope he won’t prevent the children from coming.”
“I’m hearing your worrying tone.”
“Oh, Palmer, it’s so hard. I want everything to turn out all right.”
“And by whose standards will it be all right?”
Lydia sighed and said, “You always ask questions that convict me.”
Palmer laughed.
“I ask them of myself as well, love. I want Jennings and the children to stay as much as you do, but I don’t want God having to pry my fingers off of them. In His sovereign way, He has the right to take them away or leave them right here. I need to be ready to agree with Him in either case.”
Husband and wife stared at each other.
“Does it still feel like a miracle to you, Palmer?”
“Yes,” he answered softly, “every time I look at Jennings or into the faces of those sweet children.”
Lydia felt as though she could cry and knew it was time to sleep.
“I love you, Frank Palmer, but if I don’t get to sleep, I’m going to be in tears.”
Palmer only smiled and leaned to kiss her. He reached again for his paper once they’d said goodnight, but Lydia’s breathing evened out in a matter of seconds. No surprise really—she was a mother to seven these days. The thought alone made him realize he was tired as well.
A moment later he put his paper down for the last time.
Chapter Ten
“Where’s my shoe?” a sleepy Penny asked her brother on Sunday morning.
“I don’t know. I’m looking for my sock.”
Penny scowled at James but didn’t speak. Thomas caught the interchange and almost said something, but when Penny turned away he thought the matter was over.
He was wrong. Penny complained again a few minutes later, and James snapped at her. Their voices continued to rise, and moments later Jennings opened the door.
“Problems?” he asked mildly, taking in the disheveled room and cross children.
“Penny thinks I took her shoe,” James voiced in disgust. “I don’t know what I would do with it!”
Thomas was on the verge of telling him to hush, but Jennings beat him to it.
“That’s enough, James. Penny, where was the shoe you have on?”
“By my bed,” she said, managing to frown and speak at the same time.
“Did you look under the bed for the other one?”
Penny scowled in that direction but didn’t move.
Jennings, who had just happened to be walking by in the hallway when he heard the angry voices, went down on one knee next to the bed and found the shoe. James had discovered his sock by then, and after Penny’s shoe was in place, they looked almost ready to leave the room.
“I think we’ll try separate rooms tonight,” Jennings told them, his voic
e carrying enough authority that no one argued. “I believe Emma and Lizzy want you in with them, Penny, and that way the boys can have this room.”
The children all nodded.
“Are you ready to come to breakfast? We leave for church in an hour.”
“I need Judith for my hair,” Penny told him, impressing Jennings with the way she spoke up.
“I’ll send her to you,” Jennings said as he headed toward the door.
Thomas waited only until they were alone to let his siblings know how he felt.
“It would seem that Mr Jennings didn’t realize the two of you were in the wrong just now,” the oldest sibling stated, his voice low and upset. “Father would have waited for you to apologize for your treatment of each other. Well, Father’s not here, but that doesn’t change the fact that you need to tell each other that you are sorry.”
Penny and James looked at their brother and then at each other. The apologies—started by Penny—came a moment later.
“We shouldn’t have quarreled in front of him,” James said, his heart bothered by this.
“We can’t pretend to be perfect, James,” Thomas said, his mind already on this. “But quarreling like five-year-olds is not who we are, or at least it shouldn’t be.”
“Does Mr Jennings know about Jesus?” Penny asked.
“We’re not sure, Penny. I think we need to be thankful that we’re able to attend church while we’re here. If ever we don’t live with the Palmers, it’s hard to say if Mr Jennings will take us or not.”
“I want to stay here,” Penny said.
“We all do,” James put in just before Judith knocked and entered, hairbrush in hand.
Blackburn Manor
“To what was Pastor Hurst referring when he mentioned the book of beginnings this morning?” Jennings asked of Palmer and their host on Sunday afternoon.
The face of James Walker, Marianne’s father, was calm as he looked at the younger man. It was like watching and listening to himself at an earlier age. His heart knew keen compassion.
“He was talking about Genesis,” Walker answered. “The name means beginnings.”