Lord Day and Lady Night

37. Freshly Fabricated Relatives

"Miss Weston! Lord Patrick! Mr Karim!" the vicar called over joyfully. "Fabulous news! I've spoken with the Duke of Arrendyle's steward! He has agreed to bring the matter before the Duke and has told me His Grace will surely be interested in assisting us with our endeavour, and—oh! Who is this? Do we have more visitors?"

"They, um...err..." Amy's eyes flitted over the children, who stubbornly refused to turn invisible on the spot. What the heck was she supposed to say? What would be a believable story?

"My relatives!" Patrick blurted out, stepping forward. "They...they're my relatives! My nieces, to be precise."

Yep. That would be...the exact opposite of believable.

Amy let her eyes slide over the children once again, some tall, some short, one red-haired, three black-haired and one brown, one clutching a plushy and one clutching a kni—

Oh crap!

Hurriedly, Amy jumped forward, shielding the knife from the vicar's view.

"Dey just dropped by ta say 'ello," she hurriedly interjected. "Dey won't stay for lon—"

"Oooh!" An almost criminally cute voice interrupted her, and she was jostled aside to make way for the dynamic duo. Gazing up at the vicar and the house behind him, they batted their deadly eyelashes up at him. "Is dat yer 'ouse, Mister?" Flo piped up. "Sooo pretty!"

"Our 'ouse was pretty, too..." Jo mumbled, lowering her head.

"Was?" Concern spreading over the vicar's face, he bent down towards her. "What do you mean, little lady?"

Crap! Dose bloody little tricksters!

"She doesn't mean anythin'!" Amy exclaimed. "She—"

"Da...da fire..." Jo sobbed. "Smoke...flames...it's all gone now. All gone! And mother...mother is..."

"Oh, you poor dears!" Hugging the two little girls, a tear trickled down the vicar's cheek. An actual tear! "Don't tell me you lost your home! And Lord Patrick offered to take you in?"

Patrick cleared his throat. "Well, actually—"

"A-aye." Insert sad, sympathy-inducing sniffle here. Amazed, Amy watched the show. Why bother going to a Covent Garden theatre when you could just have a free show? "We've bin stayin' at 'is place for da last few days, but now 'e 'ad ta come 'ere and we...we..."

"Oh, you poor little darlings! Of course you can all stay here! Lord Patrick has come to help the poor and disenfranchised, how could I possibly turn away his young relatives from my door? Jenny! Jenny, have the maid prepare another bedroom! We have more guests!"

The children were rushed over towards the house and, just before they were maneuvered inside, Flo turned to send Amy a triumphant grin.

Little brat!

Then the door closed behind them.

Amy exchanged a look with Patrick.

"Perhaps we could try to persuade them," Patrick said. "If we could send them back..."

"I suggest you give up and surrender," Karim pronounced in the tone of an experienced warrior. "Resistance in the face of a superior enemy is not valor, but mere foolishness."

Amy exchanged looks with Patrick again. "'ow about we carry in da luggage?"

***

Flo was truly a devious little bugger. The moment she got into the house, she zeroed in on the vicar as the weakest link in the chain. Dialing up her cuteness factor to two hundred percent, she told him a magnificently crafted sob story about the oh-so-unfortunate orphans who had lost their entire family except for dear Uncle Patrick, and quickly laid claim to the most comfy bedroom in the house. By the time she was done, the cook and maids were cooing all over the five of them, and if, occasionally, small items disappeared from the house, nobody seemed to notice.