Page 16 of Otters and Obstacles
“Well, we are glad to have you at St. Alcuin’s,” Mrs. Clarke said. “I have said for some time that Lord Peter needs a companion at the rectory, though you are not at all what I meant.” She gave Lord Peter an arch look, and he laughed.
“All in good time, Mrs. Clarke,” he said easily, and before Georgie could ponder what that could mean, a bell began ringing above and the congregation hurried to their seats with Georgie and Mrs. Barwick caught up in the general rush.
Georgie settled Mrs. Barwick into their pew with a gentlemanly gesture—really, she was becoming more comfortable in her masquerade each day—and picked up her prayer book. She allowed herself to be carried along by thefamiliar ritual, soothed in a way she had not known she needed until this moment.
And then Lord Peter stepped up to the pulpit for his sermon.
The subject was simple, but he was a man transformed. Eloquent, witty, thoughtful—every good quality he had was magnified a thousandfold and channeled into his words. She hung on every one of them as they soared to the ceiling and back again, holding the congregation in the palm of his hand as he explained God’s message to them and how it could be applied to their everyday lives.
She had known he took his responsibilities seriously, but had not understood until now how well-suited to them he was.
Georgie almost felt sick to her stomach. If the truth came out, and scandal followed, he would lose his career. Now she knew that would not only be a personal loss to him, but a great loss both to the Church and to Kilbythorpe.
She must prepare to be on her way sooner rather than later. As soon as possible.
After the service, he removed his vestments to chat and shake hands with everyone as though everything was normal, as though he had not opened her eyes that day. Mrs. Barwick bustled off for a good gossip with some of the villagers as Georgie waited, drawing back to a spot where she could observe without needing to speak with the other parishioners.
Not that she needed to worry. Lord Peter was all but swarmed by them, with this one asking for a pastoral visit for his elderly mother and that one inquiring about charity for a son recently returned to the parish without employment or his left leg, lost to Napoleon’s army at Waterloo three years before.
He moved confidently through the crowd, stopping to speak with a solemn-faced man surrounded by a group of hollow-eyed children. Surely this was the bereaved Miller family, come to their first services after the loss of their mother and wife. Peterhad a word with each one of them, even getting down on one knee to speak to the smallest one and lay his hand on the child’s head in blessing.
A mere conversation could not cure a grief so deep, but Mr. Miller appeared a little lighter after his brief conversation with Lord Peter, herding the children towards the lane to return home. The smallest one turned back for a moment to wave to Lord Peter, and Lord Peter waved back.
He seemed to take extra pains to converse with a man Georgie did not know, and then with a gentleman standing near Mrs. Dinsdale—surely her husband. Each man shook his head firmly at Lord Peter’s questions, but he only smiled and continued on.
Lord Peter finished his last conversation, clapped the farmer on the back with a laugh, and turned to Georgie, putting his hat on.
“Today is Mrs. Barwick’s half-day, so she’ll be with her cronies until this evening. Are you ready?”
“Yes, of course,” Georgie said, and they began the walk back to the rectory.
“Why are you wasting your time at a country parish in Yorkshire?” She was horrified by her own blurted question, but he only laughed, then sighed.
“I was angry at first, after… well, after I was banished here by my brother. I felt—I still feel—I can do so much more good in the world by tending to the working poor in London. But I shall put a good face on it and do my duty until I can return to where I am most needed.”
Georgie frowned. “I do not think I agree with you. The people of Kilbythorpe do not need you less simply because their problems are less… less spectacular. You could have even more of an impact here since there are fewer outside forces to contend with.”
“I…” Lord Peter looked thoughtful. “I suppose so. I must think on it. Either way, I must fulfill Paul’s requirements before I can leave, and I prefer not to leave the parish in the lurch. And once Paul is satisfied, the rest of the family will be as well.”
“Including your twin?” Unexpectedly, Georgie felt a sudden sharp ache at Freddy’s absence with this discussion of brothers, and the red thread bracelet felt heavy on her wrist. Everything would have been different for her if only he had lived.
“Philip is married now.” Peter’s brow knit. “Our relationship is different.”
“You don’t approve?”
“She seems to be a good woman, and Philip worships the ground she walks on. But they have many differences that will make their lives difficult going forward, so I did not approve when he told me. She is a merchant’s daughter, and an American, and of a different race.”
They walked along in silence for a few moments before Georgie ventured, “My mother was from India.”
“Yes, so you have said.”
“Do you disapprove of me, or of my parents’ marriage?”
Peter considered the question thoughtfully. “It is not for me to judge your father’s choice. And I have come to realize that it was not my place to judge my brother’s wife based on the things she cannot help about herself rather than her own character, when what I have seen of her character is exemplary.” He sighed. “Now I face the awkwardness of having to admit to both of them I was wrong.”
“I’m sure they will forgive you. He is your brother, after all.”
“I hope so.”
