“Good girl, Belle. Onlya little farther,” Peter said as they turned into the drive of the Berkeley manor. From what Mr. Randolph had told him, Lady Berkeley had passed away several years ago, and it was only Lord Dudley and his father who resided there, now that an older sister had married and moved away.
Lord Dudley hadn’t been very forthcoming about his father’s condition at Sunday services, but Peter had a pretty good idea what was ailing Lord Berkeley. He’d seen the condition before when he was a curate in London. He knew it to be frustrating at times for the caregiver when their loved one seemed to lose a little bit of themselves every day, becoming people who were nolonger who they used to be, and eventually not recognizing their family members.
As he pulled on the reins to get Belle to stop at the front door, a young groom came around the corner. “Good day, vicar.”
“Good day to you. My horse could use some water.”
“Of course. Shall I unhitch her as well?”
Peter shook his head. “No, that won’t be necessary. I won’t be staying that long.”
“Very good, sir. I’ll take good care of her. Come on, girl.”
Peter climbed the steps to the front door. Before he had a chance to reach for the knocker, the door opened.
“Good day, vicar. How may I help you?” the butler asked.
“Good day, Tatters. I’ve come to pay my respects to Lord Berkeley.”
The butler opened the door wider. “Please come in, Mr. Wallings. I’ll see if Lord Berkeley is receiving guests today.”
“Are both father and son at home?”
Tatters shook his head. “Only Lord Berkeley is here at the moment.”
“I see. I would very much like to see him if possible.”
“Of course, sir, but I must warn you that sometimes the earl is not quite himself. You mustn’t take it as a personal affront.”
“Of course not. Thank you for telling me.”
“Simon!” A scream tore through the air, followed by a loud crash.
“Oh dear. I must see to him at once. Excuse me, Mr. Wallings,” Tatters said, rushing away.
Peter followed him into the drawing room.
“Simon, where are you?” came the plaintive plea.
Tatters and Peter rushed into the room to find Lord Berkeley wringing his hands in a terrible state of agitation.
“Never can find that child when I need him,” the earl mumbled as he paced the room.
“My lord, the vicar is here to see you,” Tatters said.
Lord Berkeley turned his wild eyes toward the sound of the butler’s voice. “Tatters, where is the child?”
Peter knew exactly how to help the ailing earl. The best thing to do was to distract him. He walked to him. “My lord, won’t you come and sit down? You must tell me about your boy. What’s his name again?”
“Simon.” A spark of recognition lit Lord Berkeley’s eyes when he saw the black cassock. “Vicar, this isn’t your usual day.”
Peter nodded. “I know, but I found myself missing your company and couldn’t wait until our next visit to talk with you again.” He took hold of the older man’s arm and led him to the sofa.
“Have you seen the boy?” Berkeley asked.
“Yes. He’s playing out by the stables. Not to worry. All is well,” Peter said in a soothing voice.
“Oh, thank the good Lord. I thought I lost him,” the earl said, slumping against the sofa cushions.