seat. “Well, actually . . .” He ran a finger around the inside of his stiff white collar. “It was . . . ah . . .”
“I’m sorry,” Star said, reaching into the traveling bag at her feet. “It says right here on page 22, ‘Do not be blunt when conversing with gentlemen. Bold, straightforward questions are never ladylike.’ This is my etiquette manual from the New York finishing school, and I reckon I’ve read that page fifteen times. Madame Bondurant told me I have a terrible habit of blurting right out what’s on my mind. You know, you grow up with five brothers and three sisters, and somebody says, ‘Dinnertime,’ and you holler out, ‘Hand over the biscuits.’ You don’t think about please and may I and thank you kindly . Somebody says, ‘Remarkable experience,’ and you ask, ‘Why?’”
“And I shall tell you why.” He gave her a nod of acceptance. “I’d been taken to church all my life. Mother always went. Father couldn’t be bothered. Nonsense, he called it, and I must say I quite agreed. Incense, Latin, Gregorian chants, a great deal of formality and tradition. Lovely at Christmastime but a bit much the rest of the year, to my way of thinking. What was it all about? I hadn’t the foggiest. Far more interested in tying my brother’s knickers in knots than in listening to the minister.”
Star laughed. “You tied your brother’s knickers in knots?”
“It’s an expression rather like yours about the heifer and the fence post. I liked to annoy my brother during the service. Make him wriggle. Great fun, you know.” He chuckled. “At any rate, I went off to public school and then university. When I’d had enough and struck out on my own, I might as well have been wearing a suit of armor for all the religion that had penetrated my heart. Regular rake I was—women, wine, and cards. Good fun, I thought. Spent reams of money, bought a house in London, roved off to the Orient, gadded about the Continent. Thought I’d take a look round India, the Jewel in the Crown, you know.”
“Oh, my.” Star couldn’t help but stare. What a different life this man had experienced. And yet, there was something about him that appealed to her. Something warm and honest.
“Whilst I was in Calicut,” he went on, “I grew deathly ill. I’d a raging fever, thought I was going to die, and didn’t particularly relish the notion. In the hospital I met a couple of chaps— students of William Carey. As I recovered, I watched them work, saw the things they were willing to do, talked to them, questioned them. And that’s when it happened.”
“When you realized you had confused religion with faith.”
“Exactly.” He smiled at her. “I’m not much good at . . . well, at feelings. They’re unfamiliar territory to me. But this was more than a feeling. It was as though I could hear Christ Himself knocking on that suit of armor I wore. I took it off, and in He came. Right inside me. Changed everything. I can’t explain it, but I became different. A new man.”
“And that’s why you’re going home. You want your family to meet the new man.”
“Indeed.” He unbuttoned his greatcoat to reveal a fine suit of black worsted wool, a stiff white collar with pointed wings carefully turned to the sides, and a knotted silk tie stuck with a gold pin. “The reformed rake, so to speak. Bit of a sticky wicket, going home. My father’s been in a red rage at me for years. Mother can hardly speak my name. My younger brother, no doubt, hopes I’ll wander off and get eaten by a tiger so he can lay claim to the titles and the inheritance. Both sisters married while I was away. I’ve nieces and nephews I’ve never seen. Bad business.”
“Consequences,” Star said. She watched as the coach rolled past the last of the redbrick houses and entered a vision of snowy white fields crisscrossed by black hedges. Flocks of woolly sheep clustered together for warmth, observed here and there by fat snowmen garbed
“I’m sorry,” Star said, reaching into the traveling bag at her feet. “It says right here on page 22, ‘Do not be blunt when conversing with gentlemen. Bold, straightforward questions are never ladylike.’ This is my etiquette manual from the New York finishing school, and I reckon I’ve read that page fifteen times. Madame Bondurant told me I have a terrible habit of blurting right out what’s on my mind. You know, you grow up with five brothers and three sisters, and somebody says, ‘Dinnertime,’ and you holler out, ‘Hand over the biscuits.’ You don’t think about please and may I and thank you kindly . Somebody says, ‘Remarkable experience,’ and you ask, ‘Why?’”
“And I shall tell you why.” He gave her a nod of acceptance. “I’d been taken to church all my life. Mother always went. Father couldn’t be bothered. Nonsense, he called it, and I must say I quite agreed. Incense, Latin, Gregorian chants, a great deal of formality and tradition. Lovely at Christmastime but a bit much the rest of the year, to my way of thinking. What was it all about? I hadn’t the foggiest. Far more interested in tying my brother’s knickers in knots than in listening to the minister.”
Star laughed. “You tied your brother’s knickers in knots?”
“It’s an expression rather like yours about the heifer and the fence post. I liked to annoy my brother during the service. Make him wriggle. Great fun, you know.” He chuckled. “At any rate, I went off to public school and then university. When I’d had enough and struck out on my own, I might as well have been wearing a suit of armor for all the religion that had penetrated my heart. Regular rake I was—women, wine, and cards. Good fun, I thought. Spent reams of money, bought a house in London, roved off to the Orient, gadded about the Continent. Thought I’d take a look round India, the Jewel in the Crown, you know.”
“Oh, my.” Star couldn’t help but stare. What a different life this man had experienced. And yet, there was something about him that appealed to her. Something warm and honest.
“Whilst I was in Calicut,” he went on, “I grew deathly ill. I’d a raging fever, thought I was going to die, and didn’t particularly relish the notion. In the hospital I met a couple of chaps— students of William Carey. As I recovered, I watched them work, saw the things they were willing to do, talked to them, questioned them. And that’s when it happened.”
“When you realized you had confused religion with faith.”
“Exactly.” He smiled at her. “I’m not much good at . . . well, at feelings. They’re unfamiliar territory to me. But this was more than a feeling. It was as though I could hear Christ Himself knocking on that suit of armor I wore. I took it off, and in He came. Right inside me. Changed everything. I can’t explain it, but I became different. A new man.”
“And that’s why you’re going home. You want your family to meet the new man.”
“Indeed.” He unbuttoned his greatcoat to reveal a fine suit of black worsted wool, a stiff white collar with pointed wings carefully turned to the sides, and a knotted silk tie stuck with a gold pin. “The reformed rake, so to speak. Bit of a sticky wicket, going home. My father’s been in a red rage at me for years. Mother can hardly speak my name. My younger brother, no doubt, hopes I’ll wander off and get eaten by a tiger so he can lay claim to the titles and the inheritance. Both sisters married while I was away. I’ve nieces and nephews I’ve never seen. Bad business.”
“Consequences,” Star said. She watched as the coach rolled past the last of the redbrick houses and entered a vision of snowy white fields crisscrossed by black hedges. Flocks of woolly sheep clustered together for warmth, observed here and there by fat snowmen garbed
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