Page 84 of The Sea Siren of Broadwater Bottom
He turned and saw Robert Slocombe. His chin was ducked, and his hands were clasped before him. His eyes went wide as he noticed Harrington and Elissa.
Slocombe’s words came out in a rush. “Oh, dear. I’ve interrupted. I can see that I’ve interrupted. I’m terribly sorry, I’ll just come back later, and, um—”
“Not at all,” Edward said, waving him forward. “Elissa, may I present my friend from Cambridge, Mr. Robert Slocombe? Slocombe, this is my betrothed, Miss Elissa St. Cyr, and my brother, Mr. Harrington Astley.”
Elissa kept her features placid as she dropped a curtsey and said, “Mr. Slocombe, what a pleasure. Edward has told me so much about you.”
Harrington was much less discreet, his eyes agog as he jerked his gaze from Edward to Slocombe and back again.
Fortunately, Slocombe’s gaze was fixed upon Elissa. “The pleasure is entirely mine, Miss St. Cyr, I assure you. I am such an admirer of your work. I enjoyed yourOn the Sublimetremendously. Just”—he waved both hands, struggling to find sufficient words—“absolutely superb. It’s such an honor to meet the scholar behind such outstanding work.”
Elissa’s smile was fond. “Thank you, Mr. Slocombe. That means so much to me, coming from such an accomplished classicist as yourself.”
“Th-thank you,” Slocombe stammered, rubbing the back of his head. “I’ll keep this brief, as I can see you’ve got other things to…” He turned to Edward. “I was wondering if I could ask a favor.”
“Of course,” Edward said, surprised.
“You see…” Slocombe tugged at his cravat. “Up until recently, I was working as a curate out in Stoke-by-Clare. It’s a little hamlet within the gift of Baron Poslingford. The living went to one of his nephews, but he hired me to conduct the services.”
“I see,” Edward said. A curate was the lowest paid of clergymen. Often times, a man with good connections would be named to a number of lucrative church livings. Because no one could be in six places at once, it was common to hire someone else, a curate, to do the actual work. A curate’s wage was typically the barest subsistence. For many young graduates fresh out of university, it was a temporary waypoint while they searched for a more sustainable living.
But that was for those who had connections. The son of a baker such as Robert Slocombe would no doubt struggle to find a better-paid position.
“It was going well at first,” Slocombe continued. “But then my mother fell ill. I had to go back home to Holywell to take care of her.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Edward said.
“Thank you. Fortunately, she recovered, and I was able to return to my post after a few weeks. I had arranged with the vicar in the neighboring village to look after things while I was away. I didn’t just abandon my parishioners. I had thought Lord Poslingford would be understanding.”
“Did you lose your post?” Edward guessed.
“I did. But that’s not the worst of it.” He dropped his voice. “Lord Poslingford has been blackballing me. Every time I think I have a new curacy lined up, he gets wind of it, and lo and behold, it falls through.”
“That’s terrible,” Edward said.
“That was six months ago, and I won’t lie, I’m starting to get desperate.” Slocombe cringed as he peered up at Edward. “Last week I heard about a vacancy in Gloucestershire. I believe it’s in the gift of your neighbor, Lord Redditch.”
Time seemed to slow down. “That’s correct,” Edward said cautiously.
Slocombe was babbling nervously. “Of course, you would know Lord Redditch. And I—I thought your families might be friends.”
“Very good friends,” Edward confirmed. “My sister is even married to his son and heir.”
Slocombe looked positively green. “I… I know I would never be a candidate for theliving. But perhaps Lord Redditch could use a curate to take care of things while he searches for the right man.” He swallowed audibly. “Would you consider putting in a good word for me?”
Edward froze, because the position Slocombe was referring to was his own parish, where he and his family attended services each week. And if Robert Slocombe took over the post, it wouldn’t just be a matter of seeing him once a week at church. He would become an important member of the local community. Edward could expect to see him at every conceivable social occasion, from dinners to dances.
Three days ago, the notion of invitingRobert Slocombeto join his most intimate social circle would have seemed absurd.
And yet…
Robert Slocombe hadn’t done anything wrong. He had never been anything but kind to Edward.
Why, that very afternoon, he had been the one to stand and applaud for Elissa.
In truth, Robert Slocombe was a fine fellow. He would be precisely the sort of diligent vicar Lord Redditch had been searching for these past six months.
Which meant that Edward could not in good conscience recommend Slocombe to serve as a temporary curate.
