Sara giggled, the action dislodging the rest of her anxiety.
“Claire,” Jacob’s voice interrupted the conversation. “Are you ready to return home? My stomach is requesting luncheon.”
Claire smiled at the ladies in the circle. “It was a pleasure to see you this morning.” Louisa and Sara echoed the farewell, and Jacob helped them all into the carriage, Claire taking the front-facing seat and her husband joining her. Sara and Louisa sat across from them, facing the rear. Sara burrowed herself into the side of the carriage as much as she was able to give Louisa more room.
“Miss Collins,” Mr. Pomeroy called out and approached the vehicle. Sara happily returned the smile. “I wish to thank you again for the flower arrangements.”
“It is no trouble, sir,” she replied, feeling her face heat up again.
“I was hoping I could impose on you to accompany me on my visits again this Wednesday. I am still struggling with the names and circumstances of my new congregation.”
“Of course, I would be happy to.” Sara’s smile grew until it ached.
“You are certain it is not an imposition?” he asked, concerned. “I am confident that after this week I will be able to manage on my own.”
“Not at all,” she assured him. “I enjoyed doing the same with my father before he passed.”
“Thank you, Miss Collins,” Mr. Pomeroy said with a slight bow. “I will come to Ridgestone on Wednesday, then.”
Sara continued to smile at him as the carriage moved away. The handsome vicar raised his hand in farewell, waving as they pulled out of the courtyard. Still smiling, Sara settled back into her seat.
“You are embarrassing yourself, Sara.” Louisa’s comment caught her attention.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
“He is just using you, yet you continue to throw yourself at him,” Louisa said.
“Louisa,” Claire began.
But she continued on. “Our reputation is our strongest attribute; if it is not spotless, then we are nothing. Even after a year, we are barely managing to meet our financial obligations. We cannot afford to have even the slightest blemish on our names.”
“Again, allow me to offer financial assistance,” Jacob said, bringing up a long-standing discussion. “I have no qualms about using my fortune to benefit the school.”
Louisa’s narrowed eyes shifted to him. Her jaw set and her mouth flattened. “No. We have discussed this. We have no desire to become dependent upon a man.”
“Louisa,” Claire broke in more firmly this time and returned to the topic at hand. “A connection to the vicar and the church can only help us. Yes, it is a concern, as we do not want Sara to get hurt, but it is her choice how she spends her free time.”
“If you appear too eager, Sara,” Louisa said, “he will not be interested. The opposite will occur.”
“Well, I’m not sure I fully agree with that,” Jacob countered. “Some gentlemen need to be assured of a lady’s interest before doing anything.”
“But that is not my real concern,” Louisa defended herself. “He is using her. How can you not see it?”
Sara turned her head to look at the passing scenery as her friends continued to speak of her as though she were not there. Louisa didn’t understand—none of them did. Assisting a vicar was all she knew, all she was good at. She had loved helping her father before his death; the act of helping those in need brought peace and purpose to her life. Seeing another’s life improve through her efforts gave her a sense of accomplishment.
There was no doubt in her mind: She was meant to be a vicar’s wife.
“See here, what’s this?” Jacob’s statement brought Sara back to the conversation to see him straighten in his seat and crane his neck out to peer beyond the carriage. She and Louisa swiveled in their seats to do the same and saw a gentleman leading a horse along the side of the lane. Both were limping.
“Rogers, stop the carriage,” Jacob ordered. He hopped out as soon as he was able and approached the man.
Sara craned her neck even more to get a better look at the gentleman. His dark clothes were dusty and rumpled and his cravat was flat, but the understated fine quality of his garments was still visible. His hair was hidden under his hat, obviously kept short, although light wisps played at his collar in the slight breeze. Though lanky of build, the man’s shoulders were still broad and his chest was full, exuding strength.