The vicar’s kind eyes flashed between the two of them, holding hers longer than Mr. Harrison’s. “Are you certain you are quite all right, Miss Shroud?”
Lucy smiled. “Quite certain. The cart hit a bump in the road and I was ill-prepared for it. Mr. Scarper was able to save me from fallin’, though I’m certain it may not have looked graceful from yer point of view.”
Mr. Victor cleared his throat, obviously unwilling to mention exactly how he first found them. Perhaps trying to burn the image from his pious mind. “And what brings you to Fenswallow?”
“I’ve come to observe Mr. Scarper. He’s doin’ exactly what my father would like to see done for deliveries in his business.”
The vicar stepped back in surprise. “And where are you and your family staying?”
Blast. How many untruths could one tell to a churchman and still be right with God? Mr. Harrison was actually the one who’d told him her name, so perhaps she was innocent in that one, but she couldn’t pretend her family was here with her. Fenswallow was a small enough town that someone was certain to find out. “My family didn’t come with me.”
“Your father sent you here on your own?”
Here it was, the question she had been waiting for. What kind of father would send his daughter without a proper chaperone, or evenwitha proper chaperone, to accompany a man for weeks?
There were really only two scenarios in which she could come to be in this position. Either her father had no concern for his daughter or her reputation, or he was a decent man and his daughter was the one who ignored the rules of society and came without telling him.
“Nay,” she answered truthfully.
“Then you’ve brought a companion?”
Heavens, but this was a nosy vicar. She glanced at Mr. Harrison. How thoroughly would he judge her for coming here without her family? She’d hired Mrs. Tucker in London, but she didn’t know her well, and Mrs. Tucker only knew her as Miss Shroud. She hadn’t been so dimwitted as to come completely on her own. But she couldn’t tell anyone other than Helena what she was doing, or her plan would have been stopped before she’d even gotten to speak with Mr. Harrison.
“My companion is still at home. She’s an older woman, and it wouldn’t be kind of me to have her ride on the cart all day.”
The vicar furrowed his brows, but apparently he felt that his quota of questions had run out. “Do you mind if I join you? I assume you’re headed to Mr. Johnson’s farm.”
“We are,” Mr. Harrison said, his voice cheerful, as if the end of their time alone together brought him joy. “And of course, you are welcome.”
The vicar walked over to Mr. Harrison’s side of the cart and pulled himself up. Lucy shuffled to one side and sat. With the three of them on the bench, Mr. Harrison suddenly sat very close to her, his leg brushing against her own. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. He kept his eyes forward as he flicked the reins, and Marge moved forward. The vicar might have been able tokeep up with them on foot at the pace they were going, but seeing how far away from town they were, it was most likely a relief to sit.
He obviously wanted to keep an eye on her, as well, which could prove unfortunate if he decided to make a habit of it. Coming to Fenswallow had been a gamble. Mr. Victor leaned forward and looked over Mr. Harrison, his sand-colored hair falling gently over his forehead. “How long do you plan to be in Fenswallow, Miss Shroud?”
“Several weeks. But I suppose my time could be cut short if I’m a quick learner.” Or if her identity was exposed. Mr. Harrison raised an eyebrow. No doubt he hoped for an early departure so he could be free of her. “Then again,” she couldn’t help but adding, “if I don’t come to understand Mr. Scarper because of his reticence to speak, my visit could take months.”
The vicar smiled, glanced briefly at Mr. Harrison, then back to her. “You may need to plan on several months then.”
Lucy laughed, which only made Mr. Victor’s grin broaden. Mr. Harrison, on the other hand, clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. If her plan was to woo Mr. Harrison, this first day didn’t seem to be going very well. But at least now she knew Mr. Harrison hadn’t singled her out in his silence. He simply wasn’t a talkative man. “So I’m not the only person he doesn’t enjoy talkin’ to?”
The vicar laughed. “I’ve seen Mr. Scarper talk to exactly two people in the parish: Mr. Bennion and Mr. Garvis. Don’t worry, miss. His fortitude puts you in company with the rest of the town.”
Mr. Harrison grunted. “There are three family members in the Garvis family, so that makes four people, Mr. Victor. Speaking regularly to four people disqualifies me from hermitry.”
“Fair point,” Mr. Victor said, though he turned to Lucy and gave her a look that conveyed doubt. “I suppose that means I must absolve you of being a hermit.”
Mr. Harrison stopped speaking after that. For a man who wanted to prove he could speak to people, he wasn’t doing a very good job. If he were in a ballroom, people might see him as too proud or particular, but out here—miles from the nearest town—it was difficult to see his silence in a positive light.
The vicar, on the other hand, seemed quite comfortable speaking. The two of them spent the rest of the ride to the Johnson farm conversing about the end of summer, debating whether or not the leaves had started changing. At one point, Mr. Victor took pity on Mr. Harrison and asked him what he thought about autumn weather, and Mr. Harrison admitted it was fine.
The weather was forgotten as soon as the cart pulled up to the farmhouse. The Johnson home was a well-kept cottage with more than a dozen geese roaming the front garden, but it wasn’t the geese that caught Lucy’s eye. It was all of the young ladies.
As far as she could tell, the farmer’s family consisted entirely of daughters, and they had all run out of the home to greet them. A row of five lovely young ladies, with only the last two still in short dresses.
When they saw that not only Mr. Harrison had come to visit, but the young vicar as well, their eyes lit up with excitement. The middle two waved, and, oh dear, they were jumping. If this was how these ladies reacted every time they needed a goose delivered, it was a wonder they had any geese left.
The vicar beamed back at the young ladies. Mr. Harrison pulled his horse to a stop, glanced at Lucy out of the corner of his eye, and rubbed the back of his neck. His voice was low when he spoke. “Let’s find this goose, so we can be on our way.”
Lucy couldn’t have agreed more. However, based on the way the whole family had come out to greet them, she doubted this transaction would be a quick one.
