“Aye. What can I do for you?”
“My carriage has a broken wheel that needs to be repaired.”
The blacksmith grunted. “Where is it?”
“About five miles east of here. My driver is waiting with it as we speak.”
“I see,” the blacksmith said.
Peter was in a bit of a hurry. He needed to arrive at St. Mary’s parish in Reading in two days’ time. He didn’t have the luxury ofwaiting for the wheel to be repaired. He pulled several coins out of his pocket and held out his hand. “I need this repair done as soon as possible.”
The blacksmith’s eyes widened when he saw what Peter was offering. “Of course, sir. I’ll get my boys right on it. Will have it good as new in no time.”
Peter nodded. Money always talked. He’d learned that growing up and though he didn’t like to lean on his aristocratic lineage to get what he needed, there were times like this when being the son of an earl had its privileges.
He walked back to the inn. It wasn’t a large building, but it looked well-kept. He hoped they had a room available.
“Good day, my lord,” the innkeeper behind the counter said. “How may I be of service?”
“I need a room for the night, and my driver will need a meal and stabling for the carriage horses,” he told the innkeeper.
“Not a problem. We can certainly help with that. I didn’t hear your carriage drive into the yard.”
“It’s about five miles out. The blacksmith is already taking care of the repairs. Not sure how long it will be before they get back,” Peter said.
“I see. I have one spacious room left and a small room in the back of the inn for your driver. Would that suffice?”
Peter nodded. “That will be fine, thank you.”
“Would you like a dinner tray in your room, my lord? My wife has made a tasty chicken stew this evening.”
Peter looked around the common room and saw a table by the window. It would give him a good view of the yard so he could watch for his driver. “I’ll sit over there and wait for my carriage.”
“Very good, my lord. I’ll show you to your room when you finish eating.”
“Thank you.”
Peter hoped the rest of the journey to Reading would be smoother. He hadn’t wanted to become the new vicar at St. Mary’s. He enjoyed being a curate at his small London parish, but his father had insisted that it was time for him to become a vicar with more prestige and a parish of his own. One did not go against the powerful earl’s wishes without severe consequences.
As Peter had learned, the Earl of Armstrong was very friendly with the Earl of Berkeley, the highest ranking noble in the Reading area. His father obviously talked with Berkeley about Peter becoming the new vicar. The pay was certainly better. He’d only been earning one hundred and fifty pounds per annum at his small parish, but at St. Mary’s, his salary would be close to four hundred.
It was the only favor that Peter could ever remember his father doing for him, specifically, besides paying for his education. He’d felt invisible for most of his life, but evidently, the earl had been keeping an eye on him. It had been quite an unexpected shock the day his father summoned him. It was quite unusual, and he’d had no idea what the meeting was about.
He vividly remembered the day his father had changed the course of his life.
“Good morning, Father,” Peter said after the butler had announced him.
“Peter, you are to be the new vicar at St. Mary’s parish,” the earl said with no preamble.
“What? I didn’t apply for that position, Father. I’m happy at my current parish. I have—”
The earl waved a dismissive hand, silencing him mid-sentence. “Don’t be absurd. This position is more prestigious.”
“Where is St. Mary’s?”
“In Reading. You are expected by Friday next.”
Peter stood stunned, staring at his father. Why had the earl interfered with his life this way? He was so dumbfounded by thisunexpected turn of events that all he could say was “thank you” before the earl summarily dismissed him.