The Vicar's Wife

13*

"And then she invited us for tea!" Hattie's delighted squeal made her father cringe, but George forced a smile despite the ear-splitting sound. "Can you believe it, Papa? We are on an intimate footing with the Marchioness of Aramoor!"

"Now, Hattie,"

"No!" The girl wagged her finger at her mother. "You cannot take away the delight of the experience!"

"As no one should," George interceded calmly. "However, I think you ought to be careful in how loudly you crow of this new development. Lord Benedict is not a man that admires attention, nor does Lady Benedict thrive in the public eye."

"Oh," sinking back into the couch, the girl frowned thoughtfully. "Yes, you are quite right. I will be more guarded in public."

Her parents exchanged patient, knowing looks. Of all the things their dear Hattie was, consistent wasn't one of her more prominent traits. Neither was restraint.

"At any rate," Hattie's bubbly enthusiasm was already sweeping through her again. "Her ladyship insisted we send a servant to collect roses from her hothouse for my bouquet the morning of the wedding, so they might be fresh! Although she regrets that they are already otherwise engaged upon that date, she wants very much to make it a special day! Can you believe that?"

"It was uncommonly generous of her," Lucille conceded, smiling. "We will take care not to put Lady Benedict to any trouble, however. Such offers are always made off the cuff, not in genuine concern."

"I cannot believe that, Mamma!" The girl's objection was strident. "Lady Benedict was most sincere!"

"Either way, we shall not intrude upon her goodwill."

"But what if-?"

Clearing his throat to interrupt the brewing argument, George glanced at the clock.

"It is late, child," he offered. "Shouldn't you be to bed?"

Sky blue eyes flicked to the clock, a small cloud of weariness passing through them.

"I am tired," standing up, she gave a delicate yawn, rubbing her eyes. Darkness had fallen long ago, and her stomach was full of roasted lamb, butter potatoes, and greens from supper. "Goodnight, Papa. Goodnight, Mamma."

"Goodnight, dear," Lucille stood, kissing the girl's cheek before she left the parlour. "I suppose I should retire-"

"A moment." Setting his glass of brandy down, George went to her, taking her hands in his. The affectionate gesture surprised Lucille, alarm flooding her features.

"What's this?"

"I spoke with a few acquaintances about last night. They say they've had several similar happenings. This dark character, whoever he is, has been making the rounds of late."

"George-!"

"Now, now, I tell you this not to upset you." His smile was patient. "I have hired a few of Mr Brimmings' farm dogs to be loose at night so that we will be alerted if an intruder comes near the house. He said I might have them for a fortnight. The constable has been alerted to the situation and will take it in hand. You are not to worry."

"You think he will come back here?"

"I cannot know that my dear, but I take the safety of my family most seriously."

"This frightens me, George."

"I will care for you, my dear." Putting an arm around her shoulders, he smiled, watching a shine of tears glaze her blue eyes. "You are not to worry."

"Silly man, I worry for Hattie, as it seems she is the target of this, this stranger's intentions."

"She is safe," leaning down, he put a chaste peck on her cheek. "I will see to it."