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He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, though he hid it well. “Thank you. I will send the coach tomorrow afternoon and deliver you to the house. I would like to get these matters sorted as soon as possible.”
“Of course. I’m sure you’d like everything completed before you return to London.”
“Exactly.” His dark eyes delved into hers a moment longer and then he turned away as if that was all there was to be said. For the sake of her heart she wished that were true. She wished this was all a game to him, a diversion, and at the same time she was perversely glad that it was not.
After the meal was over they withdrew to the sitting room and made themselves as comfortable as possible on the vicar’s rather shabby sofa and chairs. Lady Sibylla seemed to be finding private amusement in the vicar’s pronouncements about life in general, and he, being too full of his own importance to realise she was secretly laughing at him, grew only more verbose.
Margaret was still trying to oversee their guests’ comfort and disguise the failings of the servants. After having hurried back to the kitchen for the fifth time when the maid forgot something—this time the milk—she began to hand out the cups and saucers.
“I will look forward to meeting Sir Peter Grey,” Sibylla was saying, prompting the vicar to begin a long winded explanation of who the man was, going back several generations of the Grey family.
Margaret wondered whether she should break in and change the subject. She could hardly rebuke Sibylla. The truth was she was tired and there were too many thoughts whirling around her own head to care that her father was making a fool of himself.
“Perhaps it was Sir Peter who recommended you.”
Her mother smiled at Margaret as she took her cup and there was a twinkle in her green eyes that had not been there for a long while. Before Margaret could decide what it meant, her mother spoke again, this time turning to her father.
“Recommended you for the new parish, I mean, dear.”
The vicar stopped mid word and turned to stare at her. He seemed to be trying to decide whether to tell her she was talking nonsense, as he often did, or ignore her.
It was too late.
“New parish?” Lady Strangeways’ voice was louder than normal.
Margaret watched as her mother focused on the other woman, and she could no longer pretend her mother didn’t know what she was doing. Her timing was masterful.
“Yes. We are moving after Christmas. It is very exciting.”
Everything seemed to happen at once. The vicar began to protest and Lady Strangeways turned to stare at him. Her voice rose above his. “Moving?” she repeated, a hand to her heaving chest. “Moving!”
“It is a mistake,” Mr Willoughby began, and then changed his mind halfway through. “I mean, I would have told you, my lady. I have been busy and it isn’t certain yet. As my wife knows, the Dean is yet to announce the news.” He glared at his wife, promising retribution.
“So you may not go?” Lady Strangeways managed a shaky hopeful smile.
“Oh yes, we will definitely go,” Margaret’s mother said before anyone could stop her.
Lady Strangeways stood up and walked out of the room. A moment later the vicar followed her. After the door closed, the remainder of them sat in uncomfortable silence, not sure where to look or what to say. Apart from her mother, who had a little smile on her face.
“Mother,” Margaret whispered in awe. “What have you done?”
“What I should have done years ago,” she said.
Sibylla had
set aside her tea cup and risen to her feet, causing Dominic to do the same. “We will leave you. Thank you for …” She bit her lip, and Margaret was sure she was going to say, ‘for the entertainment’. Instead she merely smiled sympathetically, and, with a glance at Dominic, went to the door.
Dominic gave a bow. “I will send the coach tomorrow as arranged,” he said, and followed his sister out of the room.
Louis was hovering and Margaret could see he wanted to follow them. He took a step and then seemed to restrain himself. “My goodness,” he said, and shook his head. “This has certainly been an interesting afternoon.”
“Yes, it certainly has.”
He seemed confused. She felt she should speak with him, but Margaret just wanted him gone. Matters were complicated enough at the moment.
“Perhaps you should go over to the church for some quiet prayer and contemplation.”
His eyes lit up. “That is a very good idea. I am rather out of sorts just now, Miss Willoughby. I’m not sure why.”
