Chapter 11 #2
As Miss Welburn broke into a lively explanation of their plans for the booths to be set out on the village green, Georgie smiled and nodded and hoped she would be able to keep it all straight.
She had a feeling the Harvest Festival would set the tone for her acceptance by the villagers and, perhaps more importantly, by the Ladies’ Auxiliary.
If she could not learn to work with them, and they with her, her time in the village would be fraught. And lonely.
The men of the church board looked up as Peter entered the room, and he sighed inwardly as they rose to shake his hand and clap him on the back.
“Congratulations, Lord Peter.” A bluff, hearty man, Mr. Kilvington’s handshake nearly crushed Peter’s fingers. “M’wife says the rectory has needed a woman’s touch for many a year.”
“Thank you, sir. But it’s not quite ours yet.” There was no need for the whole village to know Peter had no intention of staying beyond the cooling of his brother’s temper. The gentlemen might not call it gossip, but gossip it was even when couched in masculine tones.
“Nonsense. I’m sure the duke will grant it to you once Mr. Sloane, er…” Kilvington seemed to realize halfway through the sentence how crass it sounded to seem to anticipate a man’s death, and trailed off.
Mr. Banner cleared his throat. The shopkeeper did not often attend the afternoon meetings of the board, but today he had entrusted the shop to his oldest son since the time to the Harvest Festival was growing short and many matters needed to be settled.
“And what of your houseguest, Mr. Morley?” Banner said. “A most courteous young man, I always found him. Mr. Lumley was kind enough to tell me the young gentleman made good use of the watercolors he purchased from me.”
Like a flash, Peter realized how flimsy the story he and Georgie had concocted with Mrs. Clarke really was. How on earth had they thought they could keep Georgie’s identity concealed when she had the same art skills and the same affectionate pets as “George Morley”?
He must tell them, and trust they would keep the secret.
Peter cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, I have a serious matter to discuss with you. I must ask you to keep it a secret until I—we—are ready to reveal it. It concerns my marriage. And… my houseguest.”
As the men stared at him, Peter stood and began to pace, already inwardly cringing at what their reaction could be.
“You know I had a houseguest for several weeks. Well… my wife was that houseguest, under the name of George Morley.”
The silence in the room was terrifying, but Peter pressed on. “Lady Peter was forced from her home by the relative who inherited her father’s estate and traveled in disguise until she arrived here. I, er… I did not realize her true sex until shortly before our marriage.”
Peter sighed, rubbing his hand through his hair, and looked at each of the men in turn. They stared back at him, clearly in various states of shock.
“I am only telling you this so you can help quell any gossip and hope you will keep my words in confidence.”
They remained silent until, at last, Mr. Kilvington spoke. “Only honorable thing to do, I suppose.”
“I’m afraid so. But also I am… fond of her. Very fond. And that is why I am asking you to keep our secret. I do not wish the villagers to think poorly of my wife.”
The men looked at each other and, to Peter’s relief, began to nod.
“You may count on us,” Mr. Kilvington said. “There’s no need for the poor lady’s reputation to be ruined, after all.”
The apothecary, Mr. Coverdale, cleared his throat delicately. “If that matter has been settled, Lord Peter… have you been able to discuss the slate needed for the roof with Mr. Dinsdale and Mr. Wynpenny?”
Peter blinked. The church roof had not been much in his mind during his elopement with Georgie.
“Er… I spoke to each of them once or twice, but neither was willing to budge. Mr. Wynpenny will not apologize for his son’s actions since he never felt Miss Dinsdale was right for him, and Mr. Dinsdale will not release the slate without an apology. ”
A murmur of discontent ran through the room, and Peter held up his hand.
“I shall speak to them again as soon as possible. But in the meantime, we must discuss whether there is another way to reach the same goal if they both remain intransigent.”
“There is a quarry two towns over,” Mr. Coverdale said with a sigh. “Though the additional cost to have it cut and transported here would be more than is in the fund. We would need to raise more money.”
“Then we will shall raise more money,” Peter said. “Does anyone have any ideas?”
As the men began to discuss the matter, Peter realized he would need to tell Georgie he had been forced to reveal their secret. Her secret, really.
But would he?
Looking around the room, he felt confident he could trust these men to stay quiet. They all had an interest in keeping both St. Alcuin’s and Kilbythorpe scandal-free.
There was no need to tell her. It would only make her worry, and the last thing he wanted was for Georgie to have even more worries.
Besides, they would be off to London soon, within a few months at most. Then they could leave Kilbythorpe and any gossip behind. She would never need to know.
With that decided, Peter turned his attention back to the debate over where to find the additional funding for the roof. It was likely he and Georgie would be gone before the repairs began, but he did not want to leave St. Alcuin’s with a leaking roof if he did not have to.