The Rector's Daughter by Jean Fullerton

Author:Jean Fullerton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atlantic Books

***

Mr Hatton thumped his chest in an attempt to shift the pork and pickles he’d had for lunch. A sharp pain jabbed at him just below his breastbone and he belched.

Reaching forward he dragged the open Bible on his desk towards him. Picking up the quill, he chewed the end.

There was a knock on the door. He threw the pen across the desk and called ‘come’. Sarah slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. He gave her an exasperated look.

‘I thought I said I wasn’t to be disturbed,’ he barked.

‘Captain Paget’s outside and is asking to see you on an urgent matter,’ she replied.

Mr Hatton muttered a very non-clerical oath under his breath. ‘Tell him I’m at prayer.’

‘I thought, perhaps, sir,’ she said hesitantly, ‘as the poor man lost his mother yesterday you wouldn’t mind being disturbed.’

Mr Hatton mustered a sympathetic expression.

‘Of course. Show him in,’ he said, thinking he could reuse one of last year’s sermons for Sunday and no one would notice.

Sarah opened the door and Nicolas entered. Mr Hatton stood up and walked around his desk to offer his hand.

‘I’m not disturbing you, I hope,’ Nicolas said, giving Mr Hatton’s a limp hand shake.

‘Not at all. I was about to start my sermon but under the circumstances…’ He indicated the two chairs either side of the empty fire grate.

‘Thank you,’ replied Nicolas. ‘I’ll stand if you don’t mind.’

Coughing, Mr Hatton flung back his coattail and sat down.

‘I hope you’re not unwell,’ Nicolas said.

‘A spring chill,’ said the rector.

‘Well, I’d advise you to take care,’ said Nicolas. ‘They can take a hold in the blink of an eye. Mother used to suffer….’ He bit his lower lip and Mr Hatton detected moisture in the other man’s eyes.

For goodness sake, the woman was nearly ninety. ‘The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away,’ he said perfunctorily.

‘And it is of that I wish to speak,’ Nicolas replied. He shifted his weight and cleared his throat. ‘Sir. You have known for some time that I have had a great affection for your daughter. Much to my regret, my duty as a son has prevented me seeking you out before now.’

Mama’s boy!

‘No parent could have asked more,’ Mr Hatton responded.

‘Now Mother is at rest I can allow myself to think of my own happiness.’ Nicolas grasped his lapels and adopted, what to Mr Hatton’s mind was, a somewhat theatrical stance. ‘Sir, I ask...nay, I beg that you grant me your daughter’s hand in marriage.’

‘Captain Paget, I have no objection to you in principle, but—’

‘Sir, I would like to point out that I am a man of some means,’ Nicolas interrupted. ‘My yearly income from her estate will be somewhere in the region of two thousand a year.’

Two thousand!

Mr Hatton looked grave. ‘That may be but—’

‘That doesn’t include the dividend of some seven hundred pounds from Mother’s investments in the Indies,’ Nicolas added.

Mr Hatton forced a serious expression to remain on his face.

‘That may be, but a daughter’s love and care is beyond price.

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