Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Anastasia pelted down the ground floor corridor, forcing Morrigan to lift her skirts to keep up.
The pug was generally excited to return to her mistress, but this was something else.
From farther down the corridor came the call, “Stay! Stay, I say.” Then of all things, a male voice singing out “STAY!”
Another pug appeared at the end of the corridor, leash trailing. Anastasia skidded to a stop and stared as it pranced forward. Then they were circling each other, tails wagging madly as they huffed and puffed.
The vicar and Her Grace the Second came out of the sitting room.
“See?” Her Grace caroled. “I knew they’d get along!”
Morrigan wasn’t sure whether to laugh or sigh. “We have two of them now?”
“No,” the vicar said, bending to scoop up the new dog. “This gentleman is mine.” He sounded a bit perplexed.
Her Grace the Third joined them. “Both pups would likely benefit from a walk around the grounds. Morrigan, perhaps you and one of the footmen would be so kind.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Morrigan dipped a curtsey before turning to the vicar. “What’s your fellow’s name?”
“King Saul,” the vicar said. “And apparently he responds better when you sing to him.”
The ways of the aristocracy would ever amaze her. “Yes, sir.” Morrigan curtseyed again, then went to fetch Anastasia’s leash and Bailey.
It was Popsby’s turn to watch the vagrant’s nest, so Bailey was working indoors, polishing the silver in a room off the pantry.
His coat was off, his lower sleeves covered with special sheaths to keep the grey of the polishing cream off his shirt.
But Morrigan couldn’t help the little thrill that went through her at the flex of muscle as he rubbed the cloth over a large serving platter.
“I need your help,” she told him.
He cocked an eyebrow and a smile that did not bode well for her equilibrium. “I thought the gardeners cleaned up her messes.”
“She hasn’t made a mess yet,” Morrigan informed him. “And now she has a friend. I’m not sure I can manage them both.”
He set aside the platter and peeled off his sheaths. “I’m your man.”
Not yet you aren’t.
Where had that thought come from? She hadn’t taken this position at Tyneham Manor to find a husband. She was here to work and help her family. If it hadn’t been for her previous employer’s treachery, she’d never have seen the wilds of Dorset.
And wouldn’t that have been a pity.
Knowing Mr. Foster and the rest of the gardening staff would be busy in the rear gardens today and the workmen pounding away along the east wing, Morrigan led Bailey and the dogs out the front and across the graveled drive to the grass down to the water.
A pond, they called it. Big enough to be a lake as far as she was concerned.
The still waters reflected the white clouds that dotted the sky, making it look as if clumps of cotton swam in the blue.
“He’s a wild one,” Bailey mused as King Saul veered from one clump of grass to another as if he couldn’t decide which smelled better. “And he belongs to the vicar?”
“Apparently as of today,” Morrigan said as Anastasia trotted more obediently at her side. “A gift from Her Grace the Third, I take it. Watch it!”
The two leashes crossed each other. Bailey swung around her to disengage them. “Sorry! This isn’t as easy as it looks.”
“No, it’s not,” Morrigan agreed. “For creatures with little legs, they can certainly move when they want to. There he goes again!”
Once more Bailey crossed to untangle them. “I don’t envy the vicar.”
Morrigan cast him a glance. His brow was scrunched as if walking the pug took all his concentration. “I hear he’ll be more obedient if you sing to him.”
Bailey stared at her. “You have to be joking.”
She bit back a laugh. “Dare you to try.”
He frowned at the pug as King Saul attempted to wiggle his way into the reeds at one end of the pond.
“Here, boy,” Bailey sang in a clear baritone.
The pug’s head came up.
“That’s a fellow,” Bailey sang. “Here, boy.”
King Saul obligingly trotted over and gazed up at the footman, tongue lolling.
Bailey grinned at Morrigan. “It works!”
She gave it up and laughed.
His smile softened.
They came around the end of the reflecting pond. A small dock thrust out, but she didn’t see the boat that it implied. “There were boats in Hyde Park,” she told him. “Do they never take to the water here?”
Bailey sobered. “Not since His Grace two dukes ago died. Boating accident. Afterward, Mr. Foster put the boat into storage above the stables. I hear he keeps it in good repair in case it’s ever wanted, but I think Her Grace the Second stopped any such ideas.”
She hadn’t heard that story, but it was no surprise. Her Grace the Second had been so deep in mourning that likely no one had wanted to mention the matter. “Drown, did he? I didn’t realize the pond was that deep.”
“Well over my head,” Bailey said. “Never did feel the bottom when I helped fish him out.”
She stopped. “Oh, Bailey, I’m so sorry! That must have been hard.”
His gaze went off over the waters as if he saw the moment even now. “Worst day of my life. But at least I could swim. He couldn’t, you see. I suppose they saw no need to teach him. Wasn’t as if he was ever going to sea.”
Perhaps he sensed Bailey’s sadness, for King Saul scampered closer and leaned his head against the footman’s leg. Bailey’s smile tipped up as he bent to pat the little fellow. Not to be outdone, Anastasia planted herself in front of Morrigan and waited, chin up and eyes bright.
“Yes, well, you’re a good girl too,” Morrigan said with a laugh, reaching to scratch the pug behind her ears. Anastasia sighed happily.
Bailey straightened. “I’ve been asking around about you.”
Morrigan snapped upright, heart speeding. What had he heard? Did someone else know? “Oh?” she asked, keeping her voice calm as she started around the other side of the pond. “Why?”
He shrugged. “I wanted to know more about you.”
She snorted. “Why not just ask me?”
He raised a brow. “I wasn’t sure you’d answer.”
She was so busy studying him that she almost missed King Saul’s dash to the other side of the path. “Watch the leash!”
Bailey swung wider, tugging the dog away from her. “Sorry.”
“And for your information, I’d be happy to answer,” Morrigan said. At least, about most things. “And you don’t have to sing the question.”
He chuckled. “As you wish. Care to spend some time together on our half-day off tomorrow?”
Oh! Warmth flushed up her, but she kept her tone neutral. “I might be willing.”
He grinned at her. She could lose herself in that look.
“Morrigan!”
Glancing around, she found that Mr. Kinsle and the vicar were standing by the door of the manor.
“Looks like King Saul is wanted,” she told Bailey. “Think you can get him back to Mr. Caddington without mishap?”
Still smiling, Bailey sang King Saul all the way back to the house.
* * *
Striving to get along with the others in the Foundling Hospital growing up, trying to fit in at the Bluecoat School, struggling through studies at Oxford—all those Hugh had found challenging. Making himself walk away from Georgie five years ago had been worse.
But learning to deal with King Saul might just kill him.
Hugh shook his head as he waited in the vestry for his cue to enter services Sunday.
The dog had been a sweet companion during the day, settling near Hugh’s desk, occasionally rising to lean his head against Hugh’s leg for a pat.
Mrs. Hallet had proclaimed there was no one more loyal or devoted than a dog, so at least he could count on her for help with feeding and letting the fellow out as needed.
King Saul had even jumped up on Hugh’s bed and gone to sleep in the one place Hugh was least likely to kick him while sleeping.
But take the dog outside, and everything changed.
He wanted to sniff every plant in the small vicarage garden, every acre of oats in the glebe beyond, and all the outer walls of the village shops.
Hugh had to keep tugging him away from the churchyard lest he make a mess among the stones.
His parishioners would hardly thank him for that sort of gift left on the grave of a loved one.
And the dog still ignored Hugh unless he sang the commands!
Mr. Pierce finished the morning announcements and stepped down from the sanctuary.
Hugh exited the vestry onto the platform.
Though not every church had musical accompaniment these days, St. Mary’s owned a barrel organ with a few hymns.
Mr. Pritchard obligingly began cranking.
Voices rose. Hugh joined in a chorus of praise.
So did King Saul. From the vicarage garden rang a yip and howl, perfectly in time with the music.
Hugh closed his eyes a moment. Likely only those in the first pew or two could hear the sound. Perhaps if he pretended not to hear it, all would be well.
He opened his eyes to find Georgie looking at him, lips pressed tight as if to hold back a giggle. And then it was all he could do not to burst out laughing.
Somehow, he made it through the service with the solemnity and dignity expected of a vicar, though he found his gaze drifting to her far too often.
Her nod at a sermon point buoyed him, her smile at another made him press it more firmly.
This would never do! He had to consider all his parishioners, not just the pretty duchess smiling in the front pew!
They sang the final hymn to King Saul’s accompaniment, and Hugh gave the benediction. This time, he could still hear yipping as he walked down the aisle to greet his parishioners at the door.
“I’m sorry the little fellow is so demanding,” Georgie commiserated after Hugh had spoken with His Grace and the other residents of the manor.
She was all in lavender again today, from the quilted pelisse to the lace-trimmed skirts peeking out below.
“Bring him up to visit Anastasia today. That ought to tire him out a little.”