If you won’t mind showing yourselves out . . .”
“We don’t mind,” Andrew assured him.
They took turns reading for an hour. Julia’s mouth became dry, but at least the room was not heated. She hoped the squire was comfortable, temperature-wise. If he could feel temperature. If he could feel anything. For though his eyes sometimes moved in their direction, they were blank.
“I’m not discouraged,” Andrew said softly on the way down the corridor. “We just have to be consistent, like Jonathan’s grandmother. And a couple of hours daily—not just from newspapers, but also books.”
“But how?” Julia asked, pausing on the landing. “As much as we care for him, we have other responsibilities.”
Andrew scratched his beard. “We could ask others to help. Take turns.”
“That’s up to Mr. Gibbs now.”
“I’m sure he’ll be open to the idea.”
You’re more charitable than I am, Julia thought.
Mrs. Cooper appeared when they reached the hall downstairs. After thanking her for his hat, Andrew said, “May we trouble Mr. Gibbs once more?”
“I’ll ask, if you’ll follow me. He’s in the library.”
She ducked inside briefly, opened the door wider, and nodded on her way out. The oak paneled room smelled of fine leather, old books, and smoke. Mr. Gibbs rose from a leather chair as he put aside a copy of The Gentleman’s Magazine and extinguished a cigarette.
“Any luck?”
Andrew did not wince, though Julia knew he despised the word and all forms of superstition. “I’m afraid not.”
“Ah.” Mr. Gibbs clicked his tongue, motioned to a settee. “Would you care to . . .”
“No thank you, but we’d like to ask permission to have others come and read to him.”
“Others?”
“Trusted people, well acquainted with him,” Julia said. “We could design a daily schedule with Mrs. Cooper.”
“How kind of you. Do you think it will do any good?”
“I’m optimistic,” Andrew said. “The mind is a remarkable creation.”
“Then of course you may. My uncle is fortunate to have such good friends.”
During the homeward stroll up Bartley Lane, Andrew said, “You don’t like him.”
“Not in the least,” Julia admitted. “I think he’s full of wind. I doubt he even looked in on his uncle until we arrived. Mary had no idea who he was.”
“But we don’t know that. She could have simply been nervous for having a new master.”
“What about those things the squire told us? Did you not believe him?”
“I did. But I also know he had harsh opinions of people at times. Didn’t he dislike you when you first moved here?”
“Well, yes,” Julia admitted. “But only because he missed a chance to buy the Larkspur for a pittance.”
Gently, Andrew said, “Should we not give Mr. Gibbs the benefit of the doubt until we know otherwise?”
Sometimes it was a pain, being married to a vicar. Especially when he was right. Julia sighed. “Of course. It’s the notion of so many good people losing out that has me bitter.”
“I’ve grieved over that myself. We just have to trust that the squire will recover and continue with his plan. Until then, it will do us—nor the squire—no good to antagonize Mr. Gibbs. He could forbid us to visit.”
That sobered Julia. “Oh dear, Andrew. I didn’t mean to be a liability.”
Andrew chuckled and linked his arm through hers. “Liability? Every man should be blessed with such a liability.”
She leaned her head briefly upon his shoulder. “Who do you think would be willing to take turns reading?”
He thought for a moment. “Surely Ambrose and Fiona.”
“Aleda could come out of her shell once in a while,” Julia said. “Considering what the squire did for her. And I believe Mercy Langford would be willing.”
“Don’t forget Jonathan, now that school’s on holiday. After all, he gave us the idea.”
It so happened that they had reached Church Lane at that moment. Their son-in-law was outdoors, installing a lock on the
“We don’t mind,” Andrew assured him.
They took turns reading for an hour. Julia’s mouth became dry, but at least the room was not heated. She hoped the squire was comfortable, temperature-wise. If he could feel temperature. If he could feel anything. For though his eyes sometimes moved in their direction, they were blank.
“I’m not discouraged,” Andrew said softly on the way down the corridor. “We just have to be consistent, like Jonathan’s grandmother. And a couple of hours daily—not just from newspapers, but also books.”
“But how?” Julia asked, pausing on the landing. “As much as we care for him, we have other responsibilities.”
Andrew scratched his beard. “We could ask others to help. Take turns.”
“That’s up to Mr. Gibbs now.”
“I’m sure he’ll be open to the idea.”
You’re more charitable than I am, Julia thought.
Mrs. Cooper appeared when they reached the hall downstairs. After thanking her for his hat, Andrew said, “May we trouble Mr. Gibbs once more?”
“I’ll ask, if you’ll follow me. He’s in the library.”
She ducked inside briefly, opened the door wider, and nodded on her way out. The oak paneled room smelled of fine leather, old books, and smoke. Mr. Gibbs rose from a leather chair as he put aside a copy of The Gentleman’s Magazine and extinguished a cigarette.
“Any luck?”
Andrew did not wince, though Julia knew he despised the word and all forms of superstition. “I’m afraid not.”
“Ah.” Mr. Gibbs clicked his tongue, motioned to a settee. “Would you care to . . .”
“No thank you, but we’d like to ask permission to have others come and read to him.”
“Others?”
“Trusted people, well acquainted with him,” Julia said. “We could design a daily schedule with Mrs. Cooper.”
“How kind of you. Do you think it will do any good?”
“I’m optimistic,” Andrew said. “The mind is a remarkable creation.”
“Then of course you may. My uncle is fortunate to have such good friends.”
During the homeward stroll up Bartley Lane, Andrew said, “You don’t like him.”
“Not in the least,” Julia admitted. “I think he’s full of wind. I doubt he even looked in on his uncle until we arrived. Mary had no idea who he was.”
“But we don’t know that. She could have simply been nervous for having a new master.”
“What about those things the squire told us? Did you not believe him?”
“I did. But I also know he had harsh opinions of people at times. Didn’t he dislike you when you first moved here?”
“Well, yes,” Julia admitted. “But only because he missed a chance to buy the Larkspur for a pittance.”
Gently, Andrew said, “Should we not give Mr. Gibbs the benefit of the doubt until we know otherwise?”
Sometimes it was a pain, being married to a vicar. Especially when he was right. Julia sighed. “Of course. It’s the notion of so many good people losing out that has me bitter.”
“I’ve grieved over that myself. We just have to trust that the squire will recover and continue with his plan. Until then, it will do us—nor the squire—no good to antagonize Mr. Gibbs. He could forbid us to visit.”
That sobered Julia. “Oh dear, Andrew. I didn’t mean to be a liability.”
Andrew chuckled and linked his arm through hers. “Liability? Every man should be blessed with such a liability.”
She leaned her head briefly upon his shoulder. “Who do you think would be willing to take turns reading?”
He thought for a moment. “Surely Ambrose and Fiona.”
“Aleda could come out of her shell once in a while,” Julia said. “Considering what the squire did for her. And I believe Mercy Langford would be willing.”
“Don’t forget Jonathan, now that school’s on holiday. After all, he gave us the idea.”
It so happened that they had reached Church Lane at that moment. Their son-in-law was outdoors, installing a lock on the
Similar Books
