Chapter 5 #2
She was wearing lavender. The wool outlined her figure.
The flounces at her wrists swung gracefully as she played.
She’d even allowed a few tendrils of her hair loose to frame her pretty face, so different from the severe style she usually favored.
She was every bit the young lady on her first Season that he had loved in London.
“The vicar, Your Grace,” the butler said, raising his voice over the music.
The keys rang discordant. Her face paled, then flushed as she rose. “Mr. Caddington. Has something happened to Claudia or Sophia?”
Was that how she’d learned of her husband’s death, by the local minister arriving with the worst news? Hugh hastened to assure her. “No, not that I’m aware. I had a question for Mr. Warden. Mr. Kinsle thought you might be able to help.”
She glanced at the butler as if he had betrayed her. The fellow positively squirmed. “You help everyone, Your Grace,” he tried.
She drew in an audible breath. “That is the role of the Duchess of Tyneham, even when she’s a dowager. Please, Mr. Caddington, have a seat. Mr. Kinsle, would you ask Morrigan to bring Anastasia and stay with me?”
“At once, Your Grace,” he promised before hurrying out the door.
Hugh waited until she’d seated herself near the hearth before taking the opposite chair.
“How might I help?” she asked.
That distance yawned between them again, and he blamed himself for putting it there. But, as before, he had no time or right to make his case in private. “Have there been any more developments with the vagrant under the hedgerow?”
She shook her head, tendrils shining the light from the windows like chains of gold. “No. Bailey and Popsby saw no one in the last day. In fact, Bailey thinks the fellow may have moved on.”
Hugh sighed. “I wish I could believe that. But two scones went missing from the vicarage yesterday, right around the time Oliver was there.”
“The thief was in the vicarage the same time we were?” she asked, eyes widening.
Here came the hard part. “Mrs. Hallet wondered whether Oliver might be the thief.”
“No.” The word brooked no argument. “No, Oliver would never do anything like that. He is the dearest, sweetest…”
Hugh held up a hand. “I agree with you, but the question had to be asked. I had hoped you might have news of the true culprit.”
She blew out a breath. “I wish I did. I checked with Mrs. Carmichael and Mr. Kinsle, and they spoke with the rest of the staff. No one knew of a person or family in the area who was on such hard times they might consider theft. I think you’re right that it’s someone passing through, but he seems to have decided to stay.
And he’s only getting bolder if he’s willing to march into your kitchen while you have company. ”
“Perhaps he reasoned Mrs. Hallet and I would be preoccupied,” Hugh offered. “Which, we were.”
“I’ll have Bailey gather up your things from the nest,” Georgie said with a nod. “That ought to get our thief’s attention. Perhaps he will move on or at least come forward so we can help him!”
From down the corridor came the sound of a door and then barks, sharp and demanding.
“It appears Anastasia is on her way,” Hugh said with a smile.
Georgie shook her head. “That’s not Anastasia.”
The sounds came closer, punctuated by demands for “Quiet!” and “Come!” in a female voice. To the clatter of dog nails on hardwood, Her Grace the Third was dragged into the room.
The pug that was tugging at the leash was a little larger than Anastasia, with a darker face and a wider mouth. It rushed at Hugh and promptly put both front feet up on his knees to pant.
“Oh, good,” Her Grace the Third said, dropping onto another chair and releasing the leash. “You’re here. I wasn’t sure whether I could get him to the vicarage. He’s strong!”
Hugh scratched the dog behind the ears, and the pug wiggled appreciatively. “And who is this fine fellow?”
“Mr. Hugh Caddington,” she said with a grin, “meet King Saul. I thought you could use a companion of your own. He’s all yours.”
Hugh stared at her. “Mine?”
“Oh, Sophia, how sweet!” Georgie caroled. She patted her skirts. “Here, Saul. Come see me.”
King Saul regarded her a moment, then sprang from Hugh across the carpet to dance in front of her, leash flopping about like a fish on a bank.
Her Grace the Third laughed. “A true ladies’ man.”
Hugh rubbed his neck. “I wonder whether they should have named him King David.”
“Oh, no,” she assured him. “I have it on good authority that he thinks entirely too highly of himself to the point that he doesn’t necessarily obey your commands.
However, he will always stop and listen to music.
His previous owner was a music teacher who had retired to Grace-by-the-Sea.
She was finding him a bit much. But she suggested singing to him if all else failed. ”
Singing? Hugh could just imagine what his parishioners would think if he went around singing QUIET and COME at the top of his lungs!
As a boy, he’d dreamed of having the space and income to support a dog, but he’d only just settled in Tyneham.
Now didn’t seem the opportune time. And would His Grace even approve of the vicarage having a dog in residence?
“Oh, look, Hugh, he’s a darling!” Georgie stroked the dog’s head. “Isn’t hims? Why, yes hims is. Oh, I could just eat you up!” She met Hugh’s gaze, eyes glowing. “You must keep him.”
And Hugh knew he had lost.