A Preacher's daughter for the smitten Duke (Regency Romance) (Regency Tales Book 6) by Regina Darcy
Authors: Regina Darcy
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ONE
“Matthew! Jacob! Help me set the poles for the tent; our first meeting is tomorrow and we must be ready.”
Kenneth Williams pulled the heavy boxes from the cart. He had only just left his two daughters in the rooms they were renting from a local farmer. The girls were busy setting up the place that would be their home for the foreseeable future.
Mr Williams, a former clergyman, had been reduced to living by the sharpness of his wits since the day he had chosen the life of a traveling preacher. His meagre savings would soon be exhausted, and he still had to contend with the upbringing of his four children, two of whom were girls of a marriageable age.
He worried about their future, not wanting either of them to marry men unable to afford to keep them in the lifestyle to which he would like them to be accustomed. He knew his religious fervour had brought great hardship upon his children, and he knew that his youngest son bitterly resented him for it. The others were more pliable, particularly his oldest boy Matthew who, at twenty-two, seemed set to follow in his footsteps. His girls would have benefitted from the tender care of a mother, but his wife and love of his life had died when the children were young, and he had raised them alone.
“Father, I think this is an ideal place to set up our tent for meetings,” Matthew said. “It is far enough away from the vicarage and the Lord of the manor, yet close enough that folk may easily come to hear your words.”
“I agreed. That said, if trouble comes, we will face it with pure hearts, my son,” Mr Williams replied. “For now, let us hurry and set things up here. We have given our word to assist with morning and evening chores on the farm to help pay our way. We cannot be late on our very first evening.”
He handed his sons the poles, and they worked silently and quickly to set up. Mr Williams could feel his younger son Jacob’s anger beating against him. The boy did not share his faith, and harboured an unhealthy resentment against God for the conditions under which they were forced to live. He had been the hardest hit by his mother’s untimely death, and had never recovered the joyful spirit of his childhood. Instead, he had grown hardened and rebellious.
“I’m sure you will enjoy working with the animals, Jacob,” Mr Williams said, trying to drain away his son’s ill humour. “Particularly the horses. I know that you love horses.”
There was no response. The boy wrapped his silence around him like a cloak, and Matthew scolded him sharply. “Do you not hear our father speaking to you, Jacob? You should be grateful that we have been blessed by finding this new place, instead of being angry. We prayed for a good way to earn our keep, and this is much better than the last place we lived in.”
“If you find it better to muck out the stables and feed cows and pigs, then I suppose you will be grateful,” Jacob replied surly. “For myself, I have other dreams.”
Before his sons could get into yet another heated debate, Mr Williams called them over to help him stretch the canvas, and the work continued. The sky was darkening by the time they finished and he hurried them along to the farm, where he joined the farmer beginning the evening chores.
“Please forgive our tardiness, Mr Smith. What would you like help with this evening?”
The farmer, a short rotund man, smiled cheerily. “Your boys can help me finish up out here, good sir. Your daughters have helped my wife with the evening meal, and have baked some cakes for us to sell at market this next Saturday. That should be enough for today.”
Mr Williams turned away, grateful for a moment to himself where he could sit and rest before the evening meal. He would pray with the farmer and his wife, who were childless and had been so kind to his children. He could tell that Mrs Williams would dote on his girls, though they were no longer so much in need of nurturing. He prayed, as he wiped
“Matthew! Jacob! Help me set the poles for the tent; our first meeting is tomorrow and we must be ready.”
Kenneth Williams pulled the heavy boxes from the cart. He had only just left his two daughters in the rooms they were renting from a local farmer. The girls were busy setting up the place that would be their home for the foreseeable future.
Mr Williams, a former clergyman, had been reduced to living by the sharpness of his wits since the day he had chosen the life of a traveling preacher. His meagre savings would soon be exhausted, and he still had to contend with the upbringing of his four children, two of whom were girls of a marriageable age.
He worried about their future, not wanting either of them to marry men unable to afford to keep them in the lifestyle to which he would like them to be accustomed. He knew his religious fervour had brought great hardship upon his children, and he knew that his youngest son bitterly resented him for it. The others were more pliable, particularly his oldest boy Matthew who, at twenty-two, seemed set to follow in his footsteps. His girls would have benefitted from the tender care of a mother, but his wife and love of his life had died when the children were young, and he had raised them alone.
“Father, I think this is an ideal place to set up our tent for meetings,” Matthew said. “It is far enough away from the vicarage and the Lord of the manor, yet close enough that folk may easily come to hear your words.”
“I agreed. That said, if trouble comes, we will face it with pure hearts, my son,” Mr Williams replied. “For now, let us hurry and set things up here. We have given our word to assist with morning and evening chores on the farm to help pay our way. We cannot be late on our very first evening.”
He handed his sons the poles, and they worked silently and quickly to set up. Mr Williams could feel his younger son Jacob’s anger beating against him. The boy did not share his faith, and harboured an unhealthy resentment against God for the conditions under which they were forced to live. He had been the hardest hit by his mother’s untimely death, and had never recovered the joyful spirit of his childhood. Instead, he had grown hardened and rebellious.
“I’m sure you will enjoy working with the animals, Jacob,” Mr Williams said, trying to drain away his son’s ill humour. “Particularly the horses. I know that you love horses.”
There was no response. The boy wrapped his silence around him like a cloak, and Matthew scolded him sharply. “Do you not hear our father speaking to you, Jacob? You should be grateful that we have been blessed by finding this new place, instead of being angry. We prayed for a good way to earn our keep, and this is much better than the last place we lived in.”
“If you find it better to muck out the stables and feed cows and pigs, then I suppose you will be grateful,” Jacob replied surly. “For myself, I have other dreams.”
Before his sons could get into yet another heated debate, Mr Williams called them over to help him stretch the canvas, and the work continued. The sky was darkening by the time they finished and he hurried them along to the farm, where he joined the farmer beginning the evening chores.
“Please forgive our tardiness, Mr Smith. What would you like help with this evening?”
The farmer, a short rotund man, smiled cheerily. “Your boys can help me finish up out here, good sir. Your daughters have helped my wife with the evening meal, and have baked some cakes for us to sell at market this next Saturday. That should be enough for today.”
Mr Williams turned away, grateful for a moment to himself where he could sit and rest before the evening meal. He would pray with the farmer and his wife, who were childless and had been so kind to his children. He could tell that Mrs Williams would dote on his girls, though they were no longer so much in need of nurturing. He prayed, as he wiped
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