cooing, and teasing.”
“Teasing?”
“Wandering back into the fold. Napping through the sermon for a change, the usual lame jokes.”
“They are coping too, Hadrian.”
“With?”
“Harold is a good neighbor to one and all. Anybody in need could prevail on him, and he’d lend a hand. Your neighbors are worried you’ll not continue that tradition and with reason, when times have been difficult.”
“I wasn’t off in Peru. I know what the past few winters have been like. I know how many widows the Corsican’s armies created. I read the
Times
, the same as Harold no doubt does.”
Why was it every bench in every churchyard had the same hard, damp, chilly, uncomfortable quality?
“You’ve been gone for twelve years,” Avis said. “People change.”
“People also run off and leave unsuspecting friends at the mercy of Gran Carruthers. That woman has claws, so tightly did she pinch my forearm.”
Avis rose, all unassisted. “She cut a dash, back in the day. You mustn’t begrudge her a moment on the arm of a handsome fellow.”
“Back in German George’s day.”
“Is there any part of you that’s glad to be back, Hadrian?”
He was about to say no. He felt that out of sorts, and that honest, but Avis was regarding him with such patience, such concern, he surprised himself.
“I am glad to see you again. Glad to see that you are thriving and your life has meaning, and you still have the kindest smile a man ever beheld.”
“You say that so seriously.” That smile he’d mentioned graced her features, conjured by his compliment, and inside him, something eased. He could still make a solitary lady smile.
Hadrian winged his arm. “Your companion awaits us in the coach. If we make a dash for it, we might elude capture by the enemy.”
“Or we could take the path around the outer hedge, then there’d be no dashing needed.”
Hadrian acceded to that suggestion because it would give them more privacy, and Avis apparently craved solitude, despite Lily Prentiss’s comments to the contrary.
“When did you acquire Miss Prentiss’s services?”
“She was Vim’s idea, seven years ago or so, when it became clear my future lay at Blessings. She’s mostly my companion and a little bit my secretary, and eyes and ears belowstairs. Her papa was a churchman, who, like you, stepped down from his pulpit, though I’m not entirely sure of the circumstances.”
“Lily’s your curate.” A thankless post and a handy ecclesiastical cupboard for storing unmarried clergy. “I never had a curate. The livings I took were too humble.”
Hadrian had surprised her. His determination to minister without a curate had surprised him too.
“Your brother holds an old title, you’ve family wealth, and you’re astute. Why the modest livings, Hadrian?”
Rue had asked the same thing, repeatedly, suggesting she’d aspired to be the wife of a bishop, not a garden variety rural vicar.
“I had no need of coin, and the church is full of worthy men dependent on their flocks. Those fellows were motivated to take on the more ambitious parishes, and then too, Rue wanted to remain close to her sisters.”
They reached the coach, sparing Hadrian further interrogation. Lily Prentiss’s relief was palpable, though Hadrian was forced to leave the ladies to pry Harold away from a discussion with one of the local squires.
“He wanted Hamlet.” Harold settled in beside Hadrian on the backward-facing seat. “Can you believe such nonsense?”
“What could he have been thinking?” Hadrian did not roll his eyes, while Avis took an inordinate time to adjust her skirts.
“Exactly.” Harold thumped his cane on the roof, and the coach moved off. “That dog hasn’t left my care since he was a pup, and God willing, I’ll be the one to plant him. Did Chadwick grill you terribly?”
“He’s a smart fellow. He has the vocation.” A relief, that. To find a true churchman contentedly ministering to the flock in Hadrian’s
“Teasing?”
“Wandering back into the fold. Napping through the sermon for a change, the usual lame jokes.”
“They are coping too, Hadrian.”
“With?”
“Harold is a good neighbor to one and all. Anybody in need could prevail on him, and he’d lend a hand. Your neighbors are worried you’ll not continue that tradition and with reason, when times have been difficult.”
“I wasn’t off in Peru. I know what the past few winters have been like. I know how many widows the Corsican’s armies created. I read the
Times
, the same as Harold no doubt does.”
Why was it every bench in every churchyard had the same hard, damp, chilly, uncomfortable quality?
“You’ve been gone for twelve years,” Avis said. “People change.”
“People also run off and leave unsuspecting friends at the mercy of Gran Carruthers. That woman has claws, so tightly did she pinch my forearm.”
Avis rose, all unassisted. “She cut a dash, back in the day. You mustn’t begrudge her a moment on the arm of a handsome fellow.”
“Back in German George’s day.”
“Is there any part of you that’s glad to be back, Hadrian?”
He was about to say no. He felt that out of sorts, and that honest, but Avis was regarding him with such patience, such concern, he surprised himself.
“I am glad to see you again. Glad to see that you are thriving and your life has meaning, and you still have the kindest smile a man ever beheld.”
“You say that so seriously.” That smile he’d mentioned graced her features, conjured by his compliment, and inside him, something eased. He could still make a solitary lady smile.
Hadrian winged his arm. “Your companion awaits us in the coach. If we make a dash for it, we might elude capture by the enemy.”
“Or we could take the path around the outer hedge, then there’d be no dashing needed.”
Hadrian acceded to that suggestion because it would give them more privacy, and Avis apparently craved solitude, despite Lily Prentiss’s comments to the contrary.
“When did you acquire Miss Prentiss’s services?”
“She was Vim’s idea, seven years ago or so, when it became clear my future lay at Blessings. She’s mostly my companion and a little bit my secretary, and eyes and ears belowstairs. Her papa was a churchman, who, like you, stepped down from his pulpit, though I’m not entirely sure of the circumstances.”
“Lily’s your curate.” A thankless post and a handy ecclesiastical cupboard for storing unmarried clergy. “I never had a curate. The livings I took were too humble.”
Hadrian had surprised her. His determination to minister without a curate had surprised him too.
“Your brother holds an old title, you’ve family wealth, and you’re astute. Why the modest livings, Hadrian?”
Rue had asked the same thing, repeatedly, suggesting she’d aspired to be the wife of a bishop, not a garden variety rural vicar.
“I had no need of coin, and the church is full of worthy men dependent on their flocks. Those fellows were motivated to take on the more ambitious parishes, and then too, Rue wanted to remain close to her sisters.”
They reached the coach, sparing Hadrian further interrogation. Lily Prentiss’s relief was palpable, though Hadrian was forced to leave the ladies to pry Harold away from a discussion with one of the local squires.
“He wanted Hamlet.” Harold settled in beside Hadrian on the backward-facing seat. “Can you believe such nonsense?”
“What could he have been thinking?” Hadrian did not roll his eyes, while Avis took an inordinate time to adjust her skirts.
“Exactly.” Harold thumped his cane on the roof, and the coach moved off. “That dog hasn’t left my care since he was a pup, and God willing, I’ll be the one to plant him. Did Chadwick grill you terribly?”
“He’s a smart fellow. He has the vocation.” A relief, that. To find a true churchman contentedly ministering to the flock in Hadrian’s
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