KDBookOnline
Share Us
Rose couldn’t tell her, because then there would be another lesson about how the Pershings were going to find them a good family and she wouldn’t be dancing in front of people for coins any longer. “This afternoon is more dancing lessons,” she said aloud. “I like those almost as much as fencing.”
“I’m glad you do. You’re very good at them, too.”
“Thank you, Mama.”
Her fake mama blushed a little bit, like she always did when Rose called her that. It was funny how much the Pershings liked being called Mama and Papa, even though everyone knew it wasn’t true. If they liked children so much, they should have had some of their own. That was none of her business, though, and she liked all the things she’d been collecting, even if James said they were stupid. She thought they were pretty, and so she would keep them for herself, or let Georgie sell them. He liked her baubles.
Powell knocked at the open morning room door and then walked inside the room. “Ma’am, Father John has arrived.”
The missus set aside her embroidery and stood. “Splendid. I’ll speak with him in the library. Rose, perhaps you’d best not tell James about the pastor.”
“I won’t. No pig farms, though.”
“I shall keep that in mind. In the meantime, keep practicing. Remember, it doesn’t have to be perfect. You just have to try your best.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Powell sent her a look that made her feel like he’d seen her put the pretty blue and white porcelain thimble in her pocket, but he hadn’t even been in the room when she’d done that. Rose smiled at him, and with a humph he left again, but didn’t close the door.
Well, she was glad he’d left the door open, because Georgie had told her to try to listen to what the missus told the pastor, and she especially wanted to know if Father John did say anything about them going to a pig farm. If he did, then they would definitely have to leave with James, even if he had almost broken her bird.
Putting her embroidery on the sofa beside her, Rose stood up and tiptoed to the doorway. Edward hurried by with a tray, so Mrs. P and the pastor were going to have tea. Briefly she wondered if that meant Mrs. Brubbins had made lemon biscuits, but finding out would have to wait even if the cook had baked dozens of them.
Slipping directly behind the footman, she trotted up the hallway, her skirts in her hands so they wouldn’t swish. He knocked on the library door, and then when Mrs. P answered he pushed it open and went inside. The library had a million excellent hiding places, and once the footman started serving the tea she crawled through the doorway and around the corner behind the bookshelf that smelled like old potatoes.
Shifting the heavy book at the bottom up to the next shelf, she squirmed onto the empty lowest shelf, folding her legs up beneath her stomach and resting her head on her folded arms. Anyone looking at her would probably think she looked like a big, very pretty bunny.
“I apologize for not accepting your invitation sooner,” the pastor said. “Between Mrs. Packem’s rheumatism and her sick cat, Whiskers, and Ben Holder’s broken leg and trying to organize his neighbors for harvest, it’s been a busy fortnight.”
“I had no idea Ben Holder broke his leg,” Mrs. Pershing replied. “We would happily lend him a team and a wagon.”
“If you don’t mind, I shall inform him of that. I know he’s a bit… cantankerous, but I remain hopeful that the charity of his fellow parishioners will open his eyes and soften his heart.”
They muttered agreement to each other. After that at least one of the grown-ups ate a biscuit, and Rose was sure she could smell lemon. Blast it all, Mrs. Brubbins had made lemon biscuits, and with her stuck on a bookshelf, someone else—probably frowny Powell—would eat them all.
“Now, Mrs. Pershing, your note mentioned needing my resources for a task. I must tell you, after eight years of marriage, the Church is very unlikely to grant an annulment, even with no proof of matrimonial… relations.”
“What?” The missus sounded shocked, whatever an annulment was.
“I… I beg your pardon,” the priest stammered. “I thought… Well, with the phrasing of your request, I assumed—”
“I assure you, Father, I am not pursuing an annulment. And neither is Mr. Pershing.”
“Oh, splendid. You and Mr. Pershing are a much-admired example of matrimonial harmony in the community, I must say.”
“Thank you. We strive to be so. Which makes me ask the question: Why would your first thought after seeing my note be that I wished for an annulment?”
The priest cleared his throat. “Just a silly stray thought, Mrs. Pershing, I assure you. I mean, I have seen a number of annulments requested, and in most instances, there has been a failure to produce offspring.”
“Yes, well, there are also marriages of great renown without children. I don’t know if ours is one of them, but we are quite happy. And that isn’t at all why I requested your assistance.”
“Please, then.” A slurping sound of drinking tea made Rose wrinkle her nose. Slurping wasn’t at all proper, she knew now. “I’m all ears.”
Now Rose wanted to imagine a man in black pastor’s attire but with giant elephant ears. She put a hand over her mouth to cover her giggle. She couldn’t laugh now. Georgie said this was important.
“I must have your discretion, Father John. Everything rests on that. Do I have your word?”
“I couldn’t very well remain in my position if I were a gossip, Mrs. Pershing. Of course you have my word.”