Page 15 of Otters and Obstacles
Not that his personal preferences should have anything to do with his duty to the poor in London.
They began to walk, striking out across the nearby meadow towards the stream that meandered through it.
“Autumn is coming,” Morley said, his voice unusually dreamy. “I can smell it in the air.”
“A few leaves have already started to turn, but I think we will have at least a few more weeks of summer before Michaelmas and the Harvest Festival.”
Morley turned his head and gave Peter what he could only call a calculating look. “Papa and I were used to giving the otters the run of his library in colder weather.”
“No.”
“The coop will be far too chilly for them in the winter. They are tropical animals, after all.”
“What about their, er, defecation habits?”
“Papa installed a cat door for them, and they did their business in a corner of the garden.”
“And how did your gardener feel about that?”
Morley chuckled. “He was not best pleased at first, but he discovered mixing it with manure from the stables kept the rabbits and deer away from his roses, so he became accustomed.” A shadow dropped over the younger man’s face. “Until they were moved to the stables, it worked out very well.”
“Who moved them to the stables?”
“My cousin. I do not wish to speak of it.”
They continued walking, but Morley’s mood was clearly far darker than when they had set out.
“Was your cousin appointed your guardian?”
“I said I do not wish to speak of it. But I am of age, so I had no need of a guardian.”
Given that Morley appeared to still be too young to shave, Peter was doubtful of the claim, but he held his peace forthe moment. Morley would need to trust him before he would confide in him, but Peter was confident that, given time, the boy would open up. And in the meantime, it was pleasant to have a companion at the vicarage, someone to discuss his day with at supper and keep him company afterwards. It already felt as though they had known each other for years when less than a week had passed.
It would be a shame when it was time for Morley to move on, but Peter would cherish their time together while he could.
6
On Sunday morning, Georgie briefly considered pretending to be ill, but reluctantly discarded the idea. Besides being impolite to her host, it would make Lord Peter look negligent for his houseguest to avoid attending divine service. And now that Mrs. Barwick had trimmed Georgie’s hair, she felt much less awkward in her disguise.
Resigned, she dressed in the best suit of clothes she had brought with her and waited for Mrs. Barwick to finish tidying the kitchen before escorting the older woman the short distance to the church.
St. Alcuin’s improved even more on Georgie’s second look. Its very modesty had likely protected it from the various religious changes over the centuries. There would not have been much of material worth inside that could be looted and carried away. Lord Peter greeted the congregants at the church door, dressed in his vestments, and smiled at Georgie as she arrived.
“Mrs. Barwick usually sits in the front left-hand pew, if you would like to escort her there.”
“Oh! Yes, of course.”
A call from behind made Lord Peter turn and smile broadly at someone who had come from inside the church. He waved the pair over and bowed to them before turning to Georgie.
“Mrs. Clarke, Mr. Lumley, this is Mr. George Morley, my houseguest. Morley, this is my curate and his sister.”
“How do you do?” Georgie bowed to each of them in turn, knowing she was awkward but doing her best.
“And from where are you visiting, Mr. Morley?” the curate’s sister asked. She was a plump, cozy woman who was Mr. Lumley’s senior by at least a decade. He was a tall, gaunt young man about Georgie’s age or a little younger who looked as though he was still trying to catch up with his own limbs. He was dressed in his own vestments, clearly prepared to assist Lord Peter with today’s services.
“S… Shropshire,” Georgie said. Best not to make it too easy to trace her past.
Lord Peter quirked an eyebrow at her and she was suddenly afraid she had made a different answer earlier. She really ought to sit down and decide what her false background should be so she would not make any mistakes. She had never been much of a liar, and the strain was showing already.
