Chapter 7 #2
The boy’s facility at cheating at cards had also become apparent when he’d first appeared at the Bateman Home. None of the children had much by way of belongings, but what they’d had had been transferred to Pip’s keeping before Mrs. Crenshaw had discovered the illicit cards and confiscated them.
“No, thank you,” Hugh said. “Let’s practice your reading instead. I’m sure you’ve progressed since I last saw you.”
Pip studied the pattern on the kitchen tablecloth. “Been kind of busy.”
He was saved by a yip from outside. He scrambled to his feet. “Your dog needs you! I’ll fetch him!” He dashed out the door before Hugh could stop him.
Lord, what am I to do? Hugh sent the prayer heavenward.
He could find someone travelling to London and send the boy back, but what was to stop Pip from escaping again?
A lone child in London and even on the roads could be prey to all sorts of villains.
Yet Hugh’s duties as minister meant he sometimes spent long hours at bedside vigils or serving on village committees.
How were Pip and King Saul to fare then?
A wife, Pip had said. Was Hugh in a position where he might have something to offer one?
Besides the bedchamber on the ground floor, the vicarage had four smaller chambers in the attics, perfect for children.
The fields belonging to the glebe allotted to the vicar were leased to a tenant farmer and brought in extra income besides the tithes that came with the living.
Any of the eligible women in the area would be pleased with the arrangement.
A shame the only wife he wanted was far above a vicarage beside a stone church.
* * *
Georgie rapped at the door of the vicarage on Monday morning and blinked as it opened to reveal a boy about Oliver’s age.
“Can I help you?” he asked, chin up and face solemn.
“Now, young Pip,” Mrs. Hallet scolded, coming up behind the boy. “It’s my place to answer the door whenever I’m here.” She smiled apologetically at Georgie before dipping a curtsey. “Forgive me, Your Grace. The vicar is in his study. I’ll just let him know…”
“I’ll do it!” The boy pelted off.
Mrs. Hallet stepped aside to let Georgie in. “He’s eager to help, poor mite.”
“I don’t recall seeing him in services,” Georgie said, following the housekeeper to the sitting room. “Has his family recently moved to the village?”
“You might say that,” Mrs. Hallet replied. “I’ll let Mr. Caddington explain. Would you care for tea? I have some lovely biscuits baked.” Her head suddenly swung toward the door to the kitchen. “Or at least I did. Excuse me.” She hurried off.
Georgie shook her head as she took a seat on one of the upholstered chairs.
Her lavender skirts looked so odd against the wood.
She was far too used to the black. But Sophia and Claudia had conspired against her, sending some of her favorite gowns to a modiste in London and having them remade in the lavender of half-mourning.
Now she owned purple from her bonnets to her hem!
She glanced toward the door. She’d come to see how Hugh was getting on with King Saul, but there was no sign of the pug, only the strange boy.
A boy who came trotting back with Hugh at his heels and King Saul prancing beside.
The pug scampered up to her and leaned against her skirts as if coming home at last. Smiling, Georgie bent to run a hand down the short hair. “Good morning, my fine fellow. Have you been good?”
“I’m trying,” the boy said as if he thought she’d addressed him. “But it in’it easy.”
Georgie glanced up as Hugh dropped into the nearest chair. His blond curls were disheveled, and his cravat was askew, as if he’d been tugging at it. Still, he tried for a smile.
“Your Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Tyneham,” he said, “allow me to present Pip, fresh from London.”
“Pip!” Georgie beamed at the boy. “I’ve heard wonderful stories about you. I had no idea the orphanage would allow you to visit.”
He wrinkled his short nose. “I don’t take me orders from the likes of them.”
“I believe Pip left without requesting permission,” Hugh explained. “I’ve already written to the head matron to let her know he’s safe here.”
There was a finality in his voice. Was he planning on keeping the boy? She wasn’t sure why her heart warmed at the thought. It would not be easy for a vicar to adopt a child, especially one like Pip, yet there was Hugh, taking up the mantle.
“And how long are you visiting, Pip?” she asked in case she was mistaken.
He stuck out his chin. “So long as I likes the look of the place.”
“I see.” And she did. Pip had run to the one person he valued—Hugh. And now poor Hugh had no idea what to do with him.
Georgie straightened her shoulders. “Well, we’ll simply have to make sure you like it here. We’re starting a school soon and hoping all the village children will attend. I’m sure you’ll find friends.”
He eyed her, as if waiting for her to snatch back the offer.
“Why don’t you take King Saul out to the garden for an airing?” Hugh suggested. “Mrs. Hallet should have the biscuits and tea ready by then.”
“Right you are, guvnor.” The boy started for the door, and the dog jumped up to follow.
“Pip,” Hugh called.
The boy stopped, standing still as a statue for a moment. Then he turned and bowed to Georgie. “If you’ll excuse me, Your Grace.”
“Of course,” Georgie said with a smile.
Hugh let out an audible breath as boy and dog disappeared.
“Of course you’ll let him stay,” she said.
He nodded. “I want to. Do you think His Grace will permit it?”
“His Grace is one of the most reasonable men I’ve met,” Georgie told him. “If he has any doubts, you should be able to convince him. He trusts you, Hugh.”
His gaze met hers. “And you, Georgie? Do you still trust me?”
The answer was surprisingly easy. “I’m disappointed you didn’t continue our courtship years ago. Father should never have said what he did or implied my concurrence. But you might have asked my opinion.”
He dropped his gaze. “Perhaps I should have. But I found myself in agreement with your father. I was no matrimonial prize.”
And Freddie had been. She’d been shocked to discover the many in Society who had suddenly wanted to presume on her acquaintance when it had become known she was to marry the heir to a duke.
“Again, sir,” Georgie said, “that was for me to decide. Regardless, we have both grown since then. I must remind myself not to think about the people we were but the people we are today. I’m sure you have the same problem at times.”
“No,” he said softly. “I’m more likely to remember that you are the Dowager Duchess of Tyneham, and I’m your vicar.”
He erected the barrier between them again. She knew the difference in their stations in the eyes of the world. What mattered more was their commonality.
“You are a friend and a gentleman,” she countered. “That is what I prefer to consider. And if you need anything, with Pip or King Saul, please do not hesitate to call on me. I want only to help.”
Some part of her whispered of more, but he clearly would not countenance it. And she wasn’t ready. How could she think of a second husband when she’d failed her first so badly?