CHAPTER THREE
* * *
“Well,” Mr. Pomeroy said as he sat beside Sara in his gig and picked up the reins. “I can honestly say that not many visits have gone worse than that. Indeed, I believe we may have set a new precedent.”
Sara gave him a sympathetic smile and held onto the side as the gig lurched into motion, enjoying how the movement made her side press into his momentarily. “I don’t think it was that bad.”
“Oh no,” he said, “I assure you, this will become material at rectories all over England of how not to conduct visits.”
Sara shook her head. “You cannot be so hard on yourself. Mrs. Simpson was simply not in a good visiting mood. I doubt anyone would be, with an absent husband and three sick children, not to mention the other two who need constant attention.”
The vicar returned her smile, finally. “I am sure she appreciated your finishing up her laundry and putting a loaf of bread in the oven.”
“And your taking the two out for a walk,” Sara returned. “All she needed was a few moments of quiet to herself.”
He sighed. “I will return in a day or two to check on her and see if she needs any more help. And I will let Dr. Moore know of the illness. Perhaps he can do something for the children.”
“That is a good idea. I don’t know if I am able to accompany you then, but I can send along a basket.”
“Oh, I wasn’t suggesting you join me, Miss Collins,” Mr. Pomeroy said, looking at her with earnest brown eyes. “I believe I now have a good grasp on the needy families in the parish.”
Sara’s stomach dropped. Was he implying that her help was no longer needed? Dear heavens, if she didn’t accompany him on these visits, how could she prove to him that she would be a useful wife for a vicar? She swallowed and forced herself to speak. “That is good.”
Oh bother, that was more of a squeak than her voice. Mr. Pomeroy looked at her with concern in his eyes. “Are you unwell?”
Sara shook her head, unwilling to try and speak again.
His concern did not abate. “I would never forgive myself if you were to take sick after visiting Mrs. Simpson with me.” He reined in the horse and turned to face her, taking her hands in his.
“I am fine,” Sara assured him, though her voice was still little more than a squeak. His hands warmed hers, sending slow frissons of comfort up her wrists. She took a shaky breath and enjoyed the sensation.
“Have I distressed you in any way? I wish I had some water or lemonade to offer you. Your voice is still strange.” He rubbed her hands between his, his eyes filled with concern and anxiety.
Looking into his chocolate eyes, so full of emotion, all on her behalf, filled Sara with a sense of peace and security. He was a good man, a kind man, and would make her a fine husband. Her anxiety eased and her throat cleared, allowing her to speak normally. “Truly, I am well.”
Relief reflected in his eyes. “Thank God.”
She gave him a weak smile. “I am sorry for concerning you.”
Mr. Pomeroy looked at her, his face serious and intent. “The health and well-being of all my parishioners are my concern, Miss Collins. I would not be able to forgive myself if you were harmed while helping me with my work.”
“I—”
“I should not have put you into a situation where you were at risk. We are fortunate that nothing serious occurred. We must be more cautious in the future.”
Sara bent her head and looked at her hands, still being held in his. She ran her thumb over his, marveling at how soft and large they were.
His concern warmed her heart and she smiled to herself. Louisa was wrong; he did care for her. How could he express such worry over her well-being if he did not have some affection for her? She needed him to know, however, that she was up to the task of being a vicar’s wife.
Sara raised her eyes and met his gaze. “I am sorry for causing you concern, Mr. Pomeroy. But I assure you, in my experience of helping my father, I have seen and been exposed to much worse than the colds of Mrs. Simpson’s children.”
Mr. Pomeroy’s eyes held a rueful quality as the anxiety left them. He smiled at her. “I suppose that is true. I keep forgetting that you have more experience at this than I do.”