Sweet Rogue of Mine (The Survivors #9) - Shana Galen Page 0,45

leaving.

“PRUDENCE.”

Pru stopped. She had been making her way silently down the stairs, avoiding all the steps that creaked. She was usually the last to rise, so she knew Mrs. Blimpkin and the vicar would already be up and about, but she hoped she’d tarried long enough that the vicar would be in his library hard at work at...whatever he did in there.

But the deep voice that spoke her name was unmistakably Mr. Higginbotham’s.

Pru let out the breath she’d been holding and straightened her shoulders. “Good morning, sir,” she said in her cheeriest voice. Not bothering to be quiet now, she scampered down the remaining steps and saw the vicar sitting at the breakfast table.

“Morning?” He took out his pocket watch and glanced at it. “Barely.”

“Yes, sir. I will start on my chores straightaway.” She started for the kitchen where the broom was kept.

“Wait a moment, young lady.”

Pru closed her eyes then pasted a smile on her face and turned back to the vicar. “Yes, sir?”

“Sit down and break your fast first.”

“I really should start sweeping. I—”

“Sit down.”

Pru had rarely heard this tone from the vicar, and she took a seat without arguing further. The teapot was beside the vicar, but he did not offer her any. She hadn’t expected she would actually eat anything at any rate.

“You were not here for dinner last night.”

Pru blinked. The vicar was often visiting parishioners or took dinner in his library, and she had not thought he would notice her absence.

“I was not, no.”

“And you did not return until after dark.”

Another surprise as the vicar went to bed with the sun, and she could often hear him snoring while it was still dusk outside.

“I was tutoring Mr. Pope at Wentmore, sir. You gave your permission.”

“I did not give you permission to stay out until all hours of the night.”

She had been in bed by nine, which was hardly all hours of the night.

“Yes, sir. The problem is I cannot begin the tutoring until after the workmen have stopped for the day, and that is not until four or five. I do not think it’s possible for me to return home before dark, especially with winter coming and the days growing shorter.” Pru took a breath, but she saw the look on the vicar’s face and decided it might be better to keep speaking before he had a chance to say something she would rather he did not. “I know returning so late is not ideal, but I can’t help but think of your sermon two weeks ago on the importance of Christian charity. You said, and I believe this is a quote, ‘It is our solemn duty as followers of Christ to be of service to those less fortunate than we.’”

“Mr. Pope is the son of an earl. He is not one of the less fortunate.”

“But he has lost his sight, Mr. Higginbotham, and I have my sight.”

“And that has made him dangerous. I am coming to regret my decision to allow you to tutor him. The loss of sight has made him a danger to himself and others.”

“I completely agree,” Pru said.

Mr. Higginbotham’s mouth snapped shut. He had been prepared to counter her argument, so she did the only thing she could—she did not argue.

“You agree?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Yes. Mr. Pope is dangerous because he is suffering from melancholia.”

“Melancholia?”

“At first, I thought he was angry, but now I think he is grieving the loss of his sight. It seems more important than ever that I show him all is not lost. Ecriture Nocturne may just be the cure that he needs.” Pru didn’t believe this at all. She thought Mr. Pope probably needed someone to kick him in the seat of his trousers, but as Mr. Payne seemed to have that task well in hand, Pru would do what she could on other fronts.

“And why are you the one who needs to teach him? I do not like the idea of a young girl like you alone with a man like Pope.”

“We are hardly alone, sir.” This was true, technically. “As to why I am the one to teach him, well, it reminds me of your sermon of the gifts of the spirit. Isn’t it incumbent upon me to use my gifts to bless Mr. Pope? I cannot help but think I was put in the path of Monsieur Barbier for just that reason. And I never would have realized this if not for your sermon on the matter.” Pru worried