Chapter 21 #2
Miss Dinsdale and Georgie both held their breaths as Mrs. Dinsdale took a moment to think before looking at her daughter. Her stern face softened a little.
“I… will take your advice under consideration, Lady Peter.”
Nodding, Georgie sat back in her chair and changed the subject. Perhaps she had at least planted a seed that could sprout into a new roof for the church.
Peter stopped in front of the door to his brother’s study, his hand poised to knock.
He had few good memories of this room where his father would demand Peter answer for such high crimes as correcting his tutor (although Peter had been right) and emptying his pockets for a beggar woman.
It was here, perhaps, where he had first learned to keep his own counsel and solve any problems that might arise before they came to his father’s attention.
He sighed, and knocked.
“Come in.”
Peter opened the door and stepped into the room.
It no longer resembled his father’s domain, which had been dark and chilly at the same time.
New fabrics and wallpaper lightened the room while still keeping it masculine, and an assortment of paintings graced the wall, many of which had been painted by his sister-in-law, the duchess.
Including one of… a horse?
"Sit down," Paul said, and Peter sat. He glanced to the corner and saw Philip in a chair of his own, legs stretched out in front of him and hands folded across his midriff. Philip widened his eyes, and Peter scowled at him. Philip didn’t need to warn him. He already knew he was in for a scolding.
"I believe I have most of the story from my steward, who witnessed the scene your... wife's cousin made at the Harvest Festival, but I would like to hear your side as well."
Taking a deep breath, Peter told them everything. The arrival of the otters, followed by Georgie. Their budding friendship. His realization Georgie was a woman. Their marriage in York. Their life together in Kilbythorpe.
Paul nodded along, his expression so impassive that Peter could not help but think his explanations were not being well received, but he persisted.
"Georgie has found a place here, I think," Peter said. "The villagers adore her and most of them rallied around us when her cousin made his accusations. The rest came around after he tried to steal the otters."
Paul looked momentarily distracted. He had never been able to resist an interesting animal, and he seemed to find most of them interesting. “Yes, the otters. I would like to meet them as soon—but that is not the point of this conversation."
"No," Peter said. "The point... the point of this conversation is that I love Georgie."
He looked defiantly at Philip, who seemed to be holding back a smile, and then back at Paul, who sighed.
"You may be at ease with that, at least. Since your twin and I have both made scandalous marriages, no one will be shocked at your having done the same."
Paul leaned back in his chair and folded his hands. "The point of this conversation is to offer you the living here at Kilbythorpe. And a few associated parishes as well."
"I... what?" Of all the things Peter had anticipated, this was the last one on his mind.
"I received word shortly after we arrived that Mr. Sloane has succumbed to his illness, poor fellow. That means the livings he held are now open. However, you have always said you intended to return to London once the matter was settled one way or the other."
"Yes, I did say that." To Peter's own surprise, the prospect no longer sparked any interest in him at all. He and Georgie had made a place for themselves in Kilbythorpe. One that depended more on their own actions than on either of their families.
"And what is your decision?"
Peter turned the matter over in his head. "Georgie would be miserable in London."
"It is where you have always aspired to work."
"Yes. I thought... I thought I could do the most good there. Help the most number of people."
"And now?"
"Now?" Peter contemplated the question. Each word emerged almost without his volition. "Now I have responsibilities beyond myself. Not only to Georgie, but to Kilbythorpe and St. Alcuin's."
He was silent for another long moment, then laughed. "I even find myself concerned about the church’s roof. Is that not odd?"
"Certainly not what I expected of you." Paul paused. "I must say you seem far more settled and comfortable here. Is it the village or your wife?"
"Both," Peter said decisively. "It is both.” He smiled at his brother. “And I have a notion for how to make that clear at last to everyone.”
As they began their journey back to the rectory, Georgie could not help but feel warmed by their visit.
Other than his mother, Peter’s family had been so welcoming that she was reassured all would be well.
Livesey himself had come in after his talk with Peter and they had had a pleasant conversation about the otters.
It ended with her inviting him and the duchess to visit the rectory to meet them as soon as may be.
Beside her in the cabriolet, Peter cleared his throat. “Paul and I had a very interesting discussion.”
“Oh?”
“Mr. Sloane has died.”
“Oh. The poor man.” She could not hold a grudge against a man she’d never met, even if she suspected he would have stuffed and mounted her pets.
“Paul asked me if I would like to take over the living here.”
Georgie turned to look at him, but he continued watching the road as he drove. “What did you say?”
“I said I needed to discuss it with my wife.” Glancing over at her, he gave her a quick grin. “After all, I cannot make such an important decision without her.”