HH Fic announcement: Five Lives that Archie Kennedy Never Lived (3/5)
I've been going through my hard drive of late, reviewing the far too numerous WIPs residing there and trying to see if I can't actually finish some of them. This is the first of those languishing fics and hopefully it will not be the last.
/crosses fingers
Title: Five Lives that Archie Kennedy Never Lived:
Part the Thirde: The Quiet of the Countryside
Author: Widget
Characters: Archie Kennedy, William Bush
Rating: PG
Warning: none
Disclaimer: Not mine, alas.
Summary: Wherein William Bush returns home and encounters a new acquaintance
Notes: Well, if you believe the fanon, this isn’t as far fetched as it might first appear. Beware of gratuitous Jane Austen abuse. Many thanks to the lovely romanticalgirl for doing beta duty.
Part the First: In the Glow of the Footlights
Part the Seconde: A Swell of the First Stare
William Bush made his way along the narrow road towards the neat little cottage that had been his family home since before he’d been born. His parents had long since passed from this world, and William himself had left not long after to make a career for himself in the navy, but still it remained home to his three unmarried sisters and when the occasion allowed it, to William as well.
His return was a mixed blessing. The Treaty of Amiens had brought to a close nine years of hostilities between England and France, nine years of bloodshed and death and terrible loss. William knew he was fortunate to have survived when so many of his comrades had not. But with the Peace came other concerns. His ship, the Doncaster had been cashiered, her crew set ashore and her officers put on half pay. For the first time in his adult life, William found himself without occupation and without means. It was a strange and unwelcome circumstance, though he knew he was hardly alone in that regard; the better part of the fleet had been decommissioned, and officers had been set ashore by the dozens, all of them desperate for a post. But none were to be had, not even the less desirable land based situations that most would have scorned mere months before.
William knew that all too well. Like so many others, he’d made his way to the Admiralty and waited patiently day after day among the throngs of officers set adrift, all hoping for something, *anything*, only to return to their lodgings each night, the taste of bitter disappointment heavy on their tongues. Only the very lucky - or the very well connected - had managed to escape that common fate. And William, unfortunately, fell into neither category.
Finally, William had decided it was a fool’s errand. Better to return home to Chichester and bide his time rather than throw away his dwindling resources on overpriced lodgings in Portsmouth.
And so, he’d dashed off a brief note to his sisters informing them of his return. The note itself had been singularly lacking in details both about the date of his arrival (which he did not know) and his current status (which he did not wish to impart just yet). William was unsure how he would break the news of his limited means. He had habitually sent half of his monthly pay to his sisters to aid their meager wages earned from sewing, but now that would be an impossibility. He had no doubt that this sudden lack of funds would create new hardships for them all.
Still, William tried not to dwell over much. It was good to be home after so long at sea. Spring had come early to Chichester this year. The sun was warm upon his face and wildflowers bloomed riotously along the side of the road, so full of promise that at least for a little while William was able to put aside his worries and enjoy the prospect of a long overdue reunion with his dear sisters.
As he walked along the stone path that led to the cottage, William could hear the sounds of activity within. The shutters on the windows had been thrown wide, the door as well. For a moment, William thought that they were expecting him, though that was not possible. He crossed the cottage’s threshold and was greeted by a scene of domestic activity that was both familiar and striking.
The cottage itself was pristine as always, but it was far…gayer than he recalled. There were vases filled with wildflowers scattered about the room and dainty lace doilies-certainly the work of Rose who had always had the most skilled hand at tatwork--covering every available surface. There were new curtains in the windows as well, bright calico things edged with delicate ruffles, quite different from the simple linen curtains that had once adorned the room.
More surprising was his sisters’ appearance, however. There was the ever practical Mary sweeping the hearth, dressed in what he was sure was her Sunday best, a frock made from the sprigged muslin he’d sent his sisters at Christmas time. Rose was seated at the table polishing the silver, her typical crown of plaits replaced by a cloud of dark ringlets woven through with a riband of pale blue grosgrain. Of Georgette there was no sign, but the sounds emanating from the kitchen gave him an idea of her current location.
“Well, this is certainly a pretty sight!” William greeted.
At the sound of his voice, both sisters looked up from their occupations. He had expected to be greeted with smiles and warm embraces; instead he received twin looks of consternation.
“William! Your shoes!” Rose cried, standing so quickly she nearly toppled her chair. “Mary!”
William looked down to see he had trailed a bit of dirt along with his person, no great surprise, really, after the two mile jaunt from the village along dusty, muddy roads. This was hardly a catastrophe, but both his sisters regarded him with such dismay, he found himself taking a step backwards, across the threshold to stand outside once more.
Mary rushed forward, wielding her broom with a zeal that would not have been out of place in a boarding action. William found himself taking another step backwards to avoid the sudden cloud of dust that seemed determined to come to rest upon his shoes.
“Goodness! What is all this racket about?”
And there was Georgette, hands resting pugnaciously upon her slender hips, glaring balefully at her younger sisters and her elder brother as well. She too was dressed in her finest attire, right down to the lace cuffs and collar adorned with their mother’s cameo. William blinked slowly. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but it almost seemed as if Georgette--prim, serious Georgette--was wearing powder on her face. He shook his head at his own errant imagination.
“William is home and he tracked dirt inside the cottage after Mary had only just finished sweeping!” Rose cried, her tone positively accusatory.
“Oh dear!” Georgette murmured before casting a stern glance at William and a sympathetic one in her sisters’ direction.
William’s gaze flitted from one disapproving female visage to another. Somehow this wasn’t quite the welcome he’d expected; he’d received more cordial receptions when boarding enemy ships. For the first time, William was beginning to think he’d be better off in Portsmouth.
“Take off those shoes at once,” Georgette commanded, her manner businesslike once more. With a puzzled frown, William did as he was bid.
“Rose, dearest, take William’s shoes and clean them.” His youngest sister did as she was instructed though there was a decidedly petulant cast to her habitually congenial features. He stood in the doorway, staring down at his stockinged feet in bemusement while Mary swept the floor and Rose quickly rubbed the accumulated mud from the soles of his shoes.
It was only after these operations had been completed and peace restored to the household that Georgette invited him to take a seat in the cozy parlor.
“What is all this fuss about?” he asked, unable to hold his tongue any longer. “It’s apparent that you were not expecting my arrival unless this is the new custom for greeting family members returned after a long absence. One might think you were unhappy to see me!”
Georgette had the grace to blush a little. “I apologize, William. Of course we are happy to have you home.” She punctuated her words with a gentle kiss upon his cheek before perching herself on the edge of the chair beside him. “It is just that we were expecting a guest and have much to do in preparation for his arrival.”
“Whose arrival?” he asked, perplexed anew. They were on familiar terms with all of their neighbors and country customs prevailed. Such a veritable whirlwind of activity it seemed excessive for an afternoon social call.
“The vicar!” Rose piped up from her seat at the table.
“The vicar?!” And that made even less sense. They’d known the vicar since their childhood days. Surely he would not have expected such a fuss. Indeed, recalling the fusty old man, William rather thought he’d find it nonsensical. “Mr. Bagshawe?”
“No, stoopid,” Rose interposed, drawing that last word out.
“Rose!” Georgette chided sharply. “Go into the kitchen and check on the tart, please.”
“But…”
“Now,” Georgette said in a voice that brooked no refusal.
Rose heaved a great sigh, but did as instructed. William watched her retreating back. When had Rose become so ill-tempered, he wondered idly. He turned back to his other sister. “You were saying?”
“Mr. Bagshawe passed away two months ago. I wrote you of his passing.”
William shook his head. “I’m afraid I never received the letter. The post at sea is unreliable, I’m afraid.”
“Of course,” she replied with a small smile. “Well, it hardly matters now. After Mr. Bagshawe’s passing a new vicar was sent. He arrived at the parsonage a month ago and is just starting to settle in. We thought we would extend our hospitality and invite him to tea. It’s the Christian thing to do, after all.”
William nodded, unable to find fault in the plan. They’d invited the elderly Mr. Bagshawe to tea many times in the past. Nothing could be more respectable. Clearly his sisters wished to make a favorable impression, hence the fuss he’d unknowingly stumbled upon. Perfectly understandable. His sisters always had been the very soul of charity.
“Well, I suppose I shall have the opportunity to meet the new vicar sooner than I might have anticipated. When is he set to arrive?”
Georgette glanced over to the clock upon the mantle and blanched. “Oh dear! When did it get so late!” She leapt to her feet. “Mary! Mary! Gather up the polishing rags and set the table. Rose! Oh there you are. Is the tart ready?”
“It’s on the sill cooling.”
“Good. Get the jellies arranged on the platter then help your sister to set the table. Hurry now! It’s almost three o’clock!”
William had been in error; the fuss he’d interrupted with his arrival was nothing compared to the storm of industry that now beset their typically placid little cottage. Rose and Mary flitted about, setting the table, arranging platters of cakes and savories, enough to feed a dozen hungry guests and more. William frowned at such excess. His sisters were normally so frugal.
In the midst of this chaos was his eldest sister Georgette. Hands braced upon her hips, she surveyed the activity with the same cool detached eye of a captain standing upon the quarterdeck on the eve of battle. She nodded, apparently satisfied with the proceedings until her eye fell upon him.
“William! Don’t just sit there like a goose! Take your bag to your room and wash up, for heaven’s sake!” She frowned. “You do have another neck cloth with you, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he replied once he’d managed to get his mouth to cooperate.
“Well, what are you waiting for then? Go!”
Discipline was a virtue highly valued in the service and with it came the unerring ability to recognize when an order has been given. With a brief bob of his head, William went to reclaim his bag then retired to the relative calm of his room. If he hadn’t known better, William would have sworn that the peace had already been broken and that Chichester had become the front line. For the second time in less than an hour, William had begun to rethink his plan to leave Portsmouth. At least there sanity still prevailed.
Not wishing to attract further chastisement from his sisters, William washed and hastily brushed his jacket to remove the worst of the dirt from his recent walk. He retrieved a spare stock from his bag, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, a pair of breeches as well. Under normal circumstances, he would not have traded the comfort of his trousers for more formal garb during a visit home. However, given the solemnity with which his sisters were treating the vicar’s visit, he decided that the gesture would not go amiss and might, in fact, redeem him in their unexpectedly critical eyes.
Ablutions completed, William changed hastily. With a final tug at his cuffs and one last look in the small shaving mirror, William exited his room and returned to the parlor where his sisters awaited their guest.
Had he not arrived in the midst of the ruckus, he never would have imagined it from the scene that met his eyes. Everything was perfectly ordered: the table was set, the dainties laid out, his sisters seated calmly in their chairs. Except, they weren’t calm at all. Although William did not consider himself the most astute judge of female behavior, which even after so many years remained an utter mystery, he fancied that he knew his sisters rather well. So, it was a simple matter for him to note the small signs of nervousness that each of them wore. Mary’s eyes skittered about the room, from the clock to the window to the door. Rose, always the most high strung of the girls, fidgeted so much she was obligated to twist her hands in the folds of her skirts to hold them still. Even the habitually serene Georgette showed signs of the strain. William could see the way her hands holding her embroidery hoop shook faintly. Noticing William’s gaze upon her, she regained her control and returned to her stitching.
Recognizing his sisters’ distraction, William decided that it would be futile to try to engage them in conversation at present. Still, it felt queer to be sitting here silent in his sisters’ company when normally they chattered away happily, pelting him with questions about his life at sea, sharing bits of local gossip. Instead, he watched as they tried to occupy themselves and failed to hide their frequent glances at the mantle clock, all but oblivious to his presence.
It was a strange homecoming indeed.
When the clock struck three, all of his sisters started and Rose gave a soft squeak. Their eyes turned to the door, but of the vicar there was no sign. William could feel their disappointment almost as if it was his own.
The minutes dragged by with a painful slowness. Thankfully, their wait was to be a blessedly short one. It was barely ten minutes past the hour when the sound of horse’s hooves could be heard approaching the cottage. Three female heads shot up as one and cast desperate glances in the direction of the door. Another minute passed before there was a knock.
“Shall I?” William offered.
“No, no, I shall do it,” Georgette said. Setting aside her embroidery, she rose gracefully to her feet, smoothed the front of her skirts and went to answer the door.
From where he sat, William could not see the new arrival, but he could see Georgette’s profile and was most startled to see a girlish blush spread across her cheeks.
“Mr. Kennedy. Do come in, please,” she said.
“Thank you, Miss Bush,” a male voice replied. Georgette stepped aside and ushered him into the parlor.
It was then that William received his first look at the new vicar, as well as a considerable shock. The man in question was dressed in an austere suit of black in keeping with his vocation, but that was the only aspect of his appearance that was consistent with William’s expectations. The new vicar was shockingly young, fully ten years younger than William himself with a head of reddish-blond hair that merely added to his boyish appearance. He was also, William acknowledged, exceptionally handsome. He frowned at that thought, even as realization began to settle in.
“Miss Mary, Miss Rose,” he greeted William’s other sisters with a gracious nod of the head and an undeniably charming smile. Both girls blushed hotly and stammered out their own greetings in return.
The vicar’s smile broadened and William thought he saw a mischievous gleam in those blue eyes. He turned then and caught sight of William. His smile didn’t falter. “I do not believe we have met, sir.”
“Oh!” Georgette exclaimed, startled out of her fugue. “I beg your pardon. This is our brother William. Lieutenant William Bush of His Majesty’s navy. He’s only just returned today.”
Mr. Kennedy beamed at him as he took William’s hand in a firm grasp and shook it vigorously. “Lieutenant Bush, it is a great pleasure to meet you. I have nothing but the deepest respect for men in the service.”
“Oh?” William asked.
“Indeed.” Kennedy’s smile turned self-deprecating. “I confess that when I was a boy I had hoped to join His Majesty’s Navy myself. But my family had other plans.”
“Ah,” William replied delicately, uncertain how else to respond further to such an admission offered so freely. Thankfully, his sisters saved him from having to respond further.
“Mr. Kennedy,” Mary began, moving closer to the vicar, a smile on her face. “Would you care to take some refreshment?”
He returned her smile, winning him yet another blush. “Thank you, Miss Mary. I would indeed.”
Mary took the vicar’s arm and led him to the table, her expression triumphant despite - or perhaps because, William thought - of the glare her sister Rose cast at the back of her head. Not to be outdone, Rose moved swiftly and neatly slid into the place on his other side. Now it was Rose’s turn to gloat and Mary’s to glare. Shooting them both warning looks, Georgette took the seat directly across from the vicar which, while lacking proximity did provide the best view of their guest.
William frowned, bemused by the curious scene unfolding before his very eyes. He would be the first to admit that his experience with the peculiarities of the female sex was somewhat limited, but he’d always considered himself knowledgeable regarding his sisters’ behavior. At least until now. Feeling very much out of sorts, William slipped into the remaining seat resigned to enduring this strange spectacle.
“Let me pour you some tea, Mr. Kennedy,” Mary said, all smiles as she matched action to words.
“Would you like some apple tart, Mr. Kennedy?” Rose asked, already cutting a large slice before the man had even a chance to respond. She set the plate before him with an eager smile.
Kennedy opened his mouth to respond, but got no farther. “Some cinnamon cake, Mr. Kennedy?” Mary interjected, even as she deposited an enormous piece on the plate in front of him. “I baked it myself.”
Kennedy looked back and forth between the two sisters who were currently wearing identically angelic expressions. His own expression hovered between surprise and unease before good breeding came to his aid and his face settled into a gracious smile. “Well, people had assured me that I would receive a warm welcome in this district, but I must say I am quite overwhelmed.”
“People here do pride themselves on their kindness,” Georgette said, “even if their enthusiasm does overcome their good sense from time to time,” she added, her expression turning disapproving before being replaced by a placid smile. “Would you care for sugar in your tea, Mr. Kennedy?”
“Yes, please.”
“How are you settling in to the parsonage?” Mary asked. Unwilling to relinquish her control of the teapot lest Rose wrest it away, Mary had no choice but to pour for all of them, though she did make sure Mr. Kennedy’s cup did not languish even for a moment.
“Well enough, though there is still so much to be arranged. Mr. Bagshawe’s housekeeper has agreed to stay on to see to the day to day management. She has been quite the godsend,” he added with a small smile.
“Will Mrs. Kennedy be joining you soon?” Rose hazarded, her expression and voice a shade more hopeful than was seemly. She jumped and gave a small squeak that William would have wagered meant she’d received a kick in her shins for her indecorous query.
“I’m afraid there is no Mrs. Kennedy,” the vicar said though William could detect no hint of regret in his manner at that admission.
Apparently his sisters did not note that fact, or perhaps brushed it off as unimportant. As his gaze moved around the table, William encountered three visages wearing uncannily similar expressions of sympathy and feminine calculation.
“How very unfortunate,” Georgette murmured in a voice that did not seem the least bit remorseful to William’s ears. Mary and Rose soberly nodded their agreement even as their eyes gleamed in a most unnerving fashion.
They continued to pepper the new vicar with questions even as they stuffed him with cakes and dainties. Mr. Kennedy proved to be gracious and polite, answering their questions - at times a bit too probing in William’s opinion - without the slightest affectation. He also proved to have a robust constitution. William’s sisters had plied the poor man with enough food to feed three men his size and he showed no sign of becoming ill from the glut.
For their part, William’s sisters seemed remarkably happy. Rose, who had been inching her chair closer to his throughout tea, shot him winsome smiles and flirtatious looks through lowered lashes, while Mary, who seemed set on a personal crusade to insure that Mr. Kennedy’s tea cup remained filled to the brim, leaned forward, hanging on his every word. Even Georgette remained fascinated, particularly after Mr. Kennedy confessed to being the youngest son of a viscount, an admission made with some embarrassment and without the slightest hint of boasting.
Having little to add - assuming he would have been permitted to interpose himself into the conversation, of course -William contented himself with sipping his tea and nibbling on the few cakes his sisters had not foisted upon the hapless Mr. Kennedy, all the while wondering when the world had gone topsy-turvy. So it was not entirely surprising that he did not immediately realize that Mr. Kennedy had addressed him.
“I beg your pardon, sir?” William replied, quite abashed that he’d let his attention wander so.
Kennedy smiled back at him, clearly amused rather than offended by William’s poor manners. “I asked how you were getting on now that peace has been declared?”
“Tolerably well, Mr. Kennedy,” he said, adopting his most neutral voice. He set his tea cup aside. Mary did not leap up to refill it, he noticed. “It’s a bit strange being without employment after so many years at sea, but that is hardly uncommon at present.”
“Of course,” Kennedy nodded, his expression openly sympathetic. “Still, to have had the opportunity to travel the far seas, to serve King and country if only for a time…I quite envy you, Mr. Bush.”
William blinked, surprised by the warmth in the other man’s voice and the wistful cast of his gaze. He nodded slowly. “I can think of no finer vocation,” William said truthfully.
“Tell me, did you ever travel to the West Indies?”
William nodded. “I did indeed. I was posted not long ago aboard Renown. We sailed to the Indies and saw action at Samarna Bay against the Spanish as well as the indigenous population.”
He felt his chest tighten, unpleasant memories rising to the fore. Renown. Sawyer. The court martial. A body hanging from the yardarm. Even now he could almost feel his old injury throb and burn, a phantom pain that was nothing compared to horror at the needless tragedy that followed. William did not like to dwell upon those times though memory was a treacherous thing, far more duplicitous and cruel than any Spanish don.
If Kennedy noted his distraction, he gave no sign of it. His face lit with a bright, boyish grin that seemed incongruous to the austerity of his clothing and the sobriety of his vocation. “Really?” he began, his body leaning forward, eyes sharp and eager. “Is it true that the water is as blue as the sky and that the sand is so white it can blind a man if he stares at it for too long?”
William gave him self a small shake and offered the vicar a smile in return. “Quite true.”
“Astounding. I’ve always wished to travel, to see the world,” he added and William thought he could hear a note of melancholy in his voice before the bright smile returned to his face.
“And how long have you served in His Majesty’s Navy, Mr. Bush?”
William smiled, gratified by the use of the present tense. Even if he never walked the quarterdeck again, he would always be a Navy man. “All my adult life and then some.”
“You must have seen quite a lot of action then,” Kennedy said before taking a sip from his, yes, completely full tea cup.
“I have seen my share,” William replied modestly, not wishing to seem boastful.
Kennedy was leaning forward again, face and hands animated. “Were you ever stationed in the Med? I heard that that’s where all the great battles occurred.”
“Well, I…” he began, only to be brought to a sudden and painful halt by a foot colliding forcefully with his shin. Grateful that he’d set his tea cup aside, William sent a sharp look in Rose’s direction. She met his gaze calmly, smiling sweetly over the rim of her tea cup. William knew well enough what such a look portended.
“I think that perhaps this would not be the most appropriate topic of conversation in the presence of ladies,” William said, nodding his head towards his sisters.
Kennedy looked crestfallen, whether from disappointment or from his own thoughtlessness William could not gauge. He composed himself quickly. “You are quite right, Mr. Bush. I apologize for my unseemly conduct.” This last he directed to William’s sisters who, not surprisingly, leapt over one another to reassure him.
“You needn’t apologize, Mr. Kennedy,” Mary said. In a bold move, she rested her hand on his arm.
Not to be outdone, Rose copied the gesture, batting her eyelashes at him. “You’re not at fault.”
“We’re well accustomed to naval tales I this household, Mr. Kennedy,” Georgette added, determined to have the final word. “Perhaps another time, when we’re all better acquainted.”
“Oh, yes! You must come again!”
William couldn’t help but admire the skill with which Georgette managed that last bit. If Boney ever dared to show his face again, they should recruit Georgette to deal with him. The poor frog would never know what hit him.
Nor, apparently did Mr. Kennedy. He smiled and nodded his assent, but then etiquette would allow for no other response. William’s sisters beamed with delight. Pleased at this felicitous turn of events, William’s indiscretion was forgotten entirely and harmony was once again restored to the Bush household. Their satisfaction was so great, in fact, that when Mr. Kennedy announced his need to depart, William’s sisters made only the faintest of protests. After all, it would not do to be seen as grasping or indecorous.
Mr. Kennedy took his leave, bowing gracefully and murmuring his farewells to the Bush sisters until each of them was blushing like a rose. He turned then to look at William.
“I wonder, Mr. Bush, if you would be so good as to help me with my mount?”
William raised an eyebrow at the request - he couldn’t imagine what assistance a man of Kennedy’s youth and obvious vigor might require - but he murmured his assent and followed the man outside, closing the door behind them.
Kennedy’s horse was hitched to a nearby post. He patted the chestnut’s neck and whispered a few words into its ear, smiling when the horse nickered softly.
“Do you need…?” William essayed.
Kennedy shook his head. “No, thank you. I plan to walk home. After such a feast, a little healthful exercise is just the thing. Will you accompany me part of the way?”
William nodded, falling in to step beside the vicar as he led his mount down the dusty road towards the parsonage.
“I hope you enjoyed our hospitality, Mr. Kennedy,” William said, feeling unaccountably awkward. Kennedy’s answering smile set him at his ease.
“Very much so. You sisters are very charming. And very fine cooks. Too fine, perhaps,” he added patting his belly. “I confess I’m suffering from a surfeit of hospitality.”
“Oh?”
Kennedy’s smile turned knowing. “An unfortunate side effect of being an unmarried vicar. I’ve been invited into every home in the distract that lays claim to an unmarried female. I’m beginning to feel a bit like a fox on the first day of hunting season,” he added wryly.
William couldn’t help but smile at that remark. Certainly his sisters had laid their own traps with great care but little subtlety.
“They’re all well intentioned, of course” he continued, one hand running idly along his mount’s neck. “But I am not quite ready to be stuffed and placed on a mantle just yet. If ever.”
Kennedy shot William a look. “Tell me, Mr. Bush, do you plan on remaining in Chichester for a bit?”
William nodded slowly. “Unless there is a sudden change in my circumstance or the peace is broken, I believe so, yes.”
“I wonder if you might do me the honor of coming to the parsonage some time to share some of those naval tales that are not fit for delicate female ears. I confess I miss the companionship of other men more than I had anticipated.”
His mouth curved into that charming, boyish grin that seemed so natural and yet which appeared so unsuited to the younger man’s position. “As further incentive, I can offer a fine bottle of brandy sitting untouched on the sideboard. And cigars. A cousin of mine has business interests in the colonies and he receives boxes of them from his associate in Virginia. Exceptionally fine.”
He cocked a brow at William. “Well?”
William found himself smiling back at the vicar. “It would be my pleasure, sir.”
Kennedy’s smile widened. “Wonderful! Tomorrow afternoon? After tea?”
William nodded. When Kennedy extended his hand, William took it in his, shaking it warmly.
They stood there, hands folded together and it was only belatedly that William realized that the clasp had lasted longer than was strictly necessary. He released the other man’s hand almost reluctantly. Kennedy took a step backwards, but he was still smiling.
“Well, I should be on my way and let you return home, lest your sisters think there’s something afoot. I would not wish to be the cause of discord in the Bush household.”
“I don’t believe there’s any cause for worry on that account.” Thinking on his sisters, William paused. “But perhaps it would be best not to make any mention of my intended visit to the parsonage.”
“A prudent course of action, sir,” Kennedy nodded soberly, but William could see the gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Until tomorrow, Mr. Bush.”
“Until then, Mr. Kennedy.”
William watched as Kennedy steered his mount along the narrow road back towards the parsonage for several minutes before turning on his heel and heading towards the neat little cottage that he called home. Suddenly, life in peacetime did not look nearly as dull as it once had.
Finis
/crosses fingers
Title: Five Lives that Archie Kennedy Never Lived:
Part the Thirde: The Quiet of the Countryside
Author: Widget
Characters: Archie Kennedy, William Bush
Rating: PG
Warning: none
Disclaimer: Not mine, alas.
Summary: Wherein William Bush returns home and encounters a new acquaintance
Notes: Well, if you believe the fanon, this isn’t as far fetched as it might first appear. Beware of gratuitous Jane Austen abuse. Many thanks to the lovely romanticalgirl for doing beta duty.
Part the First: In the Glow of the Footlights
Part the Seconde: A Swell of the First Stare
William Bush made his way along the narrow road towards the neat little cottage that had been his family home since before he’d been born. His parents had long since passed from this world, and William himself had left not long after to make a career for himself in the navy, but still it remained home to his three unmarried sisters and when the occasion allowed it, to William as well.
His return was a mixed blessing. The Treaty of Amiens had brought to a close nine years of hostilities between England and France, nine years of bloodshed and death and terrible loss. William knew he was fortunate to have survived when so many of his comrades had not. But with the Peace came other concerns. His ship, the Doncaster had been cashiered, her crew set ashore and her officers put on half pay. For the first time in his adult life, William found himself without occupation and without means. It was a strange and unwelcome circumstance, though he knew he was hardly alone in that regard; the better part of the fleet had been decommissioned, and officers had been set ashore by the dozens, all of them desperate for a post. But none were to be had, not even the less desirable land based situations that most would have scorned mere months before.
William knew that all too well. Like so many others, he’d made his way to the Admiralty and waited patiently day after day among the throngs of officers set adrift, all hoping for something, *anything*, only to return to their lodgings each night, the taste of bitter disappointment heavy on their tongues. Only the very lucky - or the very well connected - had managed to escape that common fate. And William, unfortunately, fell into neither category.
Finally, William had decided it was a fool’s errand. Better to return home to Chichester and bide his time rather than throw away his dwindling resources on overpriced lodgings in Portsmouth.
And so, he’d dashed off a brief note to his sisters informing them of his return. The note itself had been singularly lacking in details both about the date of his arrival (which he did not know) and his current status (which he did not wish to impart just yet). William was unsure how he would break the news of his limited means. He had habitually sent half of his monthly pay to his sisters to aid their meager wages earned from sewing, but now that would be an impossibility. He had no doubt that this sudden lack of funds would create new hardships for them all.
Still, William tried not to dwell over much. It was good to be home after so long at sea. Spring had come early to Chichester this year. The sun was warm upon his face and wildflowers bloomed riotously along the side of the road, so full of promise that at least for a little while William was able to put aside his worries and enjoy the prospect of a long overdue reunion with his dear sisters.
As he walked along the stone path that led to the cottage, William could hear the sounds of activity within. The shutters on the windows had been thrown wide, the door as well. For a moment, William thought that they were expecting him, though that was not possible. He crossed the cottage’s threshold and was greeted by a scene of domestic activity that was both familiar and striking.
The cottage itself was pristine as always, but it was far…gayer than he recalled. There were vases filled with wildflowers scattered about the room and dainty lace doilies-certainly the work of Rose who had always had the most skilled hand at tatwork--covering every available surface. There were new curtains in the windows as well, bright calico things edged with delicate ruffles, quite different from the simple linen curtains that had once adorned the room.
More surprising was his sisters’ appearance, however. There was the ever practical Mary sweeping the hearth, dressed in what he was sure was her Sunday best, a frock made from the sprigged muslin he’d sent his sisters at Christmas time. Rose was seated at the table polishing the silver, her typical crown of plaits replaced by a cloud of dark ringlets woven through with a riband of pale blue grosgrain. Of Georgette there was no sign, but the sounds emanating from the kitchen gave him an idea of her current location.
“Well, this is certainly a pretty sight!” William greeted.
At the sound of his voice, both sisters looked up from their occupations. He had expected to be greeted with smiles and warm embraces; instead he received twin looks of consternation.
“William! Your shoes!” Rose cried, standing so quickly she nearly toppled her chair. “Mary!”
William looked down to see he had trailed a bit of dirt along with his person, no great surprise, really, after the two mile jaunt from the village along dusty, muddy roads. This was hardly a catastrophe, but both his sisters regarded him with such dismay, he found himself taking a step backwards, across the threshold to stand outside once more.
Mary rushed forward, wielding her broom with a zeal that would not have been out of place in a boarding action. William found himself taking another step backwards to avoid the sudden cloud of dust that seemed determined to come to rest upon his shoes.
“Goodness! What is all this racket about?”
And there was Georgette, hands resting pugnaciously upon her slender hips, glaring balefully at her younger sisters and her elder brother as well. She too was dressed in her finest attire, right down to the lace cuffs and collar adorned with their mother’s cameo. William blinked slowly. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but it almost seemed as if Georgette--prim, serious Georgette--was wearing powder on her face. He shook his head at his own errant imagination.
“William is home and he tracked dirt inside the cottage after Mary had only just finished sweeping!” Rose cried, her tone positively accusatory.
“Oh dear!” Georgette murmured before casting a stern glance at William and a sympathetic one in her sisters’ direction.
William’s gaze flitted from one disapproving female visage to another. Somehow this wasn’t quite the welcome he’d expected; he’d received more cordial receptions when boarding enemy ships. For the first time, William was beginning to think he’d be better off in Portsmouth.
“Take off those shoes at once,” Georgette commanded, her manner businesslike once more. With a puzzled frown, William did as he was bid.
“Rose, dearest, take William’s shoes and clean them.” His youngest sister did as she was instructed though there was a decidedly petulant cast to her habitually congenial features. He stood in the doorway, staring down at his stockinged feet in bemusement while Mary swept the floor and Rose quickly rubbed the accumulated mud from the soles of his shoes.
It was only after these operations had been completed and peace restored to the household that Georgette invited him to take a seat in the cozy parlor.
“What is all this fuss about?” he asked, unable to hold his tongue any longer. “It’s apparent that you were not expecting my arrival unless this is the new custom for greeting family members returned after a long absence. One might think you were unhappy to see me!”
Georgette had the grace to blush a little. “I apologize, William. Of course we are happy to have you home.” She punctuated her words with a gentle kiss upon his cheek before perching herself on the edge of the chair beside him. “It is just that we were expecting a guest and have much to do in preparation for his arrival.”
“Whose arrival?” he asked, perplexed anew. They were on familiar terms with all of their neighbors and country customs prevailed. Such a veritable whirlwind of activity it seemed excessive for an afternoon social call.
“The vicar!” Rose piped up from her seat at the table.
“The vicar?!” And that made even less sense. They’d known the vicar since their childhood days. Surely he would not have expected such a fuss. Indeed, recalling the fusty old man, William rather thought he’d find it nonsensical. “Mr. Bagshawe?”
“No, stoopid,” Rose interposed, drawing that last word out.
“Rose!” Georgette chided sharply. “Go into the kitchen and check on the tart, please.”
“But…”
“Now,” Georgette said in a voice that brooked no refusal.
Rose heaved a great sigh, but did as instructed. William watched her retreating back. When had Rose become so ill-tempered, he wondered idly. He turned back to his other sister. “You were saying?”
“Mr. Bagshawe passed away two months ago. I wrote you of his passing.”
William shook his head. “I’m afraid I never received the letter. The post at sea is unreliable, I’m afraid.”
“Of course,” she replied with a small smile. “Well, it hardly matters now. After Mr. Bagshawe’s passing a new vicar was sent. He arrived at the parsonage a month ago and is just starting to settle in. We thought we would extend our hospitality and invite him to tea. It’s the Christian thing to do, after all.”
William nodded, unable to find fault in the plan. They’d invited the elderly Mr. Bagshawe to tea many times in the past. Nothing could be more respectable. Clearly his sisters wished to make a favorable impression, hence the fuss he’d unknowingly stumbled upon. Perfectly understandable. His sisters always had been the very soul of charity.
“Well, I suppose I shall have the opportunity to meet the new vicar sooner than I might have anticipated. When is he set to arrive?”
Georgette glanced over to the clock upon the mantle and blanched. “Oh dear! When did it get so late!” She leapt to her feet. “Mary! Mary! Gather up the polishing rags and set the table. Rose! Oh there you are. Is the tart ready?”
“It’s on the sill cooling.”
“Good. Get the jellies arranged on the platter then help your sister to set the table. Hurry now! It’s almost three o’clock!”
William had been in error; the fuss he’d interrupted with his arrival was nothing compared to the storm of industry that now beset their typically placid little cottage. Rose and Mary flitted about, setting the table, arranging platters of cakes and savories, enough to feed a dozen hungry guests and more. William frowned at such excess. His sisters were normally so frugal.
In the midst of this chaos was his eldest sister Georgette. Hands braced upon her hips, she surveyed the activity with the same cool detached eye of a captain standing upon the quarterdeck on the eve of battle. She nodded, apparently satisfied with the proceedings until her eye fell upon him.
“William! Don’t just sit there like a goose! Take your bag to your room and wash up, for heaven’s sake!” She frowned. “You do have another neck cloth with you, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he replied once he’d managed to get his mouth to cooperate.
“Well, what are you waiting for then? Go!”
Discipline was a virtue highly valued in the service and with it came the unerring ability to recognize when an order has been given. With a brief bob of his head, William went to reclaim his bag then retired to the relative calm of his room. If he hadn’t known better, William would have sworn that the peace had already been broken and that Chichester had become the front line. For the second time in less than an hour, William had begun to rethink his plan to leave Portsmouth. At least there sanity still prevailed.
Not wishing to attract further chastisement from his sisters, William washed and hastily brushed his jacket to remove the worst of the dirt from his recent walk. He retrieved a spare stock from his bag, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, a pair of breeches as well. Under normal circumstances, he would not have traded the comfort of his trousers for more formal garb during a visit home. However, given the solemnity with which his sisters were treating the vicar’s visit, he decided that the gesture would not go amiss and might, in fact, redeem him in their unexpectedly critical eyes.
Ablutions completed, William changed hastily. With a final tug at his cuffs and one last look in the small shaving mirror, William exited his room and returned to the parlor where his sisters awaited their guest.
Had he not arrived in the midst of the ruckus, he never would have imagined it from the scene that met his eyes. Everything was perfectly ordered: the table was set, the dainties laid out, his sisters seated calmly in their chairs. Except, they weren’t calm at all. Although William did not consider himself the most astute judge of female behavior, which even after so many years remained an utter mystery, he fancied that he knew his sisters rather well. So, it was a simple matter for him to note the small signs of nervousness that each of them wore. Mary’s eyes skittered about the room, from the clock to the window to the door. Rose, always the most high strung of the girls, fidgeted so much she was obligated to twist her hands in the folds of her skirts to hold them still. Even the habitually serene Georgette showed signs of the strain. William could see the way her hands holding her embroidery hoop shook faintly. Noticing William’s gaze upon her, she regained her control and returned to her stitching.
Recognizing his sisters’ distraction, William decided that it would be futile to try to engage them in conversation at present. Still, it felt queer to be sitting here silent in his sisters’ company when normally they chattered away happily, pelting him with questions about his life at sea, sharing bits of local gossip. Instead, he watched as they tried to occupy themselves and failed to hide their frequent glances at the mantle clock, all but oblivious to his presence.
It was a strange homecoming indeed.
When the clock struck three, all of his sisters started and Rose gave a soft squeak. Their eyes turned to the door, but of the vicar there was no sign. William could feel their disappointment almost as if it was his own.
The minutes dragged by with a painful slowness. Thankfully, their wait was to be a blessedly short one. It was barely ten minutes past the hour when the sound of horse’s hooves could be heard approaching the cottage. Three female heads shot up as one and cast desperate glances in the direction of the door. Another minute passed before there was a knock.
“Shall I?” William offered.
“No, no, I shall do it,” Georgette said. Setting aside her embroidery, she rose gracefully to her feet, smoothed the front of her skirts and went to answer the door.
From where he sat, William could not see the new arrival, but he could see Georgette’s profile and was most startled to see a girlish blush spread across her cheeks.
“Mr. Kennedy. Do come in, please,” she said.
“Thank you, Miss Bush,” a male voice replied. Georgette stepped aside and ushered him into the parlor.
It was then that William received his first look at the new vicar, as well as a considerable shock. The man in question was dressed in an austere suit of black in keeping with his vocation, but that was the only aspect of his appearance that was consistent with William’s expectations. The new vicar was shockingly young, fully ten years younger than William himself with a head of reddish-blond hair that merely added to his boyish appearance. He was also, William acknowledged, exceptionally handsome. He frowned at that thought, even as realization began to settle in.
“Miss Mary, Miss Rose,” he greeted William’s other sisters with a gracious nod of the head and an undeniably charming smile. Both girls blushed hotly and stammered out their own greetings in return.
The vicar’s smile broadened and William thought he saw a mischievous gleam in those blue eyes. He turned then and caught sight of William. His smile didn’t falter. “I do not believe we have met, sir.”
“Oh!” Georgette exclaimed, startled out of her fugue. “I beg your pardon. This is our brother William. Lieutenant William Bush of His Majesty’s navy. He’s only just returned today.”
Mr. Kennedy beamed at him as he took William’s hand in a firm grasp and shook it vigorously. “Lieutenant Bush, it is a great pleasure to meet you. I have nothing but the deepest respect for men in the service.”
“Oh?” William asked.
“Indeed.” Kennedy’s smile turned self-deprecating. “I confess that when I was a boy I had hoped to join His Majesty’s Navy myself. But my family had other plans.”
“Ah,” William replied delicately, uncertain how else to respond further to such an admission offered so freely. Thankfully, his sisters saved him from having to respond further.
“Mr. Kennedy,” Mary began, moving closer to the vicar, a smile on her face. “Would you care to take some refreshment?”
He returned her smile, winning him yet another blush. “Thank you, Miss Mary. I would indeed.”
Mary took the vicar’s arm and led him to the table, her expression triumphant despite - or perhaps because, William thought - of the glare her sister Rose cast at the back of her head. Not to be outdone, Rose moved swiftly and neatly slid into the place on his other side. Now it was Rose’s turn to gloat and Mary’s to glare. Shooting them both warning looks, Georgette took the seat directly across from the vicar which, while lacking proximity did provide the best view of their guest.
William frowned, bemused by the curious scene unfolding before his very eyes. He would be the first to admit that his experience with the peculiarities of the female sex was somewhat limited, but he’d always considered himself knowledgeable regarding his sisters’ behavior. At least until now. Feeling very much out of sorts, William slipped into the remaining seat resigned to enduring this strange spectacle.
“Let me pour you some tea, Mr. Kennedy,” Mary said, all smiles as she matched action to words.
“Would you like some apple tart, Mr. Kennedy?” Rose asked, already cutting a large slice before the man had even a chance to respond. She set the plate before him with an eager smile.
Kennedy opened his mouth to respond, but got no farther. “Some cinnamon cake, Mr. Kennedy?” Mary interjected, even as she deposited an enormous piece on the plate in front of him. “I baked it myself.”
Kennedy looked back and forth between the two sisters who were currently wearing identically angelic expressions. His own expression hovered between surprise and unease before good breeding came to his aid and his face settled into a gracious smile. “Well, people had assured me that I would receive a warm welcome in this district, but I must say I am quite overwhelmed.”
“People here do pride themselves on their kindness,” Georgette said, “even if their enthusiasm does overcome their good sense from time to time,” she added, her expression turning disapproving before being replaced by a placid smile. “Would you care for sugar in your tea, Mr. Kennedy?”
“Yes, please.”
“How are you settling in to the parsonage?” Mary asked. Unwilling to relinquish her control of the teapot lest Rose wrest it away, Mary had no choice but to pour for all of them, though she did make sure Mr. Kennedy’s cup did not languish even for a moment.
“Well enough, though there is still so much to be arranged. Mr. Bagshawe’s housekeeper has agreed to stay on to see to the day to day management. She has been quite the godsend,” he added with a small smile.
“Will Mrs. Kennedy be joining you soon?” Rose hazarded, her expression and voice a shade more hopeful than was seemly. She jumped and gave a small squeak that William would have wagered meant she’d received a kick in her shins for her indecorous query.
“I’m afraid there is no Mrs. Kennedy,” the vicar said though William could detect no hint of regret in his manner at that admission.
Apparently his sisters did not note that fact, or perhaps brushed it off as unimportant. As his gaze moved around the table, William encountered three visages wearing uncannily similar expressions of sympathy and feminine calculation.
“How very unfortunate,” Georgette murmured in a voice that did not seem the least bit remorseful to William’s ears. Mary and Rose soberly nodded their agreement even as their eyes gleamed in a most unnerving fashion.
They continued to pepper the new vicar with questions even as they stuffed him with cakes and dainties. Mr. Kennedy proved to be gracious and polite, answering their questions - at times a bit too probing in William’s opinion - without the slightest affectation. He also proved to have a robust constitution. William’s sisters had plied the poor man with enough food to feed three men his size and he showed no sign of becoming ill from the glut.
For their part, William’s sisters seemed remarkably happy. Rose, who had been inching her chair closer to his throughout tea, shot him winsome smiles and flirtatious looks through lowered lashes, while Mary, who seemed set on a personal crusade to insure that Mr. Kennedy’s tea cup remained filled to the brim, leaned forward, hanging on his every word. Even Georgette remained fascinated, particularly after Mr. Kennedy confessed to being the youngest son of a viscount, an admission made with some embarrassment and without the slightest hint of boasting.
Having little to add - assuming he would have been permitted to interpose himself into the conversation, of course -William contented himself with sipping his tea and nibbling on the few cakes his sisters had not foisted upon the hapless Mr. Kennedy, all the while wondering when the world had gone topsy-turvy. So it was not entirely surprising that he did not immediately realize that Mr. Kennedy had addressed him.
“I beg your pardon, sir?” William replied, quite abashed that he’d let his attention wander so.
Kennedy smiled back at him, clearly amused rather than offended by William’s poor manners. “I asked how you were getting on now that peace has been declared?”
“Tolerably well, Mr. Kennedy,” he said, adopting his most neutral voice. He set his tea cup aside. Mary did not leap up to refill it, he noticed. “It’s a bit strange being without employment after so many years at sea, but that is hardly uncommon at present.”
“Of course,” Kennedy nodded, his expression openly sympathetic. “Still, to have had the opportunity to travel the far seas, to serve King and country if only for a time…I quite envy you, Mr. Bush.”
William blinked, surprised by the warmth in the other man’s voice and the wistful cast of his gaze. He nodded slowly. “I can think of no finer vocation,” William said truthfully.
“Tell me, did you ever travel to the West Indies?”
William nodded. “I did indeed. I was posted not long ago aboard Renown. We sailed to the Indies and saw action at Samarna Bay against the Spanish as well as the indigenous population.”
He felt his chest tighten, unpleasant memories rising to the fore. Renown. Sawyer. The court martial. A body hanging from the yardarm. Even now he could almost feel his old injury throb and burn, a phantom pain that was nothing compared to horror at the needless tragedy that followed. William did not like to dwell upon those times though memory was a treacherous thing, far more duplicitous and cruel than any Spanish don.
If Kennedy noted his distraction, he gave no sign of it. His face lit with a bright, boyish grin that seemed incongruous to the austerity of his clothing and the sobriety of his vocation. “Really?” he began, his body leaning forward, eyes sharp and eager. “Is it true that the water is as blue as the sky and that the sand is so white it can blind a man if he stares at it for too long?”
William gave him self a small shake and offered the vicar a smile in return. “Quite true.”
“Astounding. I’ve always wished to travel, to see the world,” he added and William thought he could hear a note of melancholy in his voice before the bright smile returned to his face.
“And how long have you served in His Majesty’s Navy, Mr. Bush?”
William smiled, gratified by the use of the present tense. Even if he never walked the quarterdeck again, he would always be a Navy man. “All my adult life and then some.”
“You must have seen quite a lot of action then,” Kennedy said before taking a sip from his, yes, completely full tea cup.
“I have seen my share,” William replied modestly, not wishing to seem boastful.
Kennedy was leaning forward again, face and hands animated. “Were you ever stationed in the Med? I heard that that’s where all the great battles occurred.”
“Well, I…” he began, only to be brought to a sudden and painful halt by a foot colliding forcefully with his shin. Grateful that he’d set his tea cup aside, William sent a sharp look in Rose’s direction. She met his gaze calmly, smiling sweetly over the rim of her tea cup. William knew well enough what such a look portended.
“I think that perhaps this would not be the most appropriate topic of conversation in the presence of ladies,” William said, nodding his head towards his sisters.
Kennedy looked crestfallen, whether from disappointment or from his own thoughtlessness William could not gauge. He composed himself quickly. “You are quite right, Mr. Bush. I apologize for my unseemly conduct.” This last he directed to William’s sisters who, not surprisingly, leapt over one another to reassure him.
“You needn’t apologize, Mr. Kennedy,” Mary said. In a bold move, she rested her hand on his arm.
Not to be outdone, Rose copied the gesture, batting her eyelashes at him. “You’re not at fault.”
“We’re well accustomed to naval tales I this household, Mr. Kennedy,” Georgette added, determined to have the final word. “Perhaps another time, when we’re all better acquainted.”
“Oh, yes! You must come again!”
William couldn’t help but admire the skill with which Georgette managed that last bit. If Boney ever dared to show his face again, they should recruit Georgette to deal with him. The poor frog would never know what hit him.
Nor, apparently did Mr. Kennedy. He smiled and nodded his assent, but then etiquette would allow for no other response. William’s sisters beamed with delight. Pleased at this felicitous turn of events, William’s indiscretion was forgotten entirely and harmony was once again restored to the Bush household. Their satisfaction was so great, in fact, that when Mr. Kennedy announced his need to depart, William’s sisters made only the faintest of protests. After all, it would not do to be seen as grasping or indecorous.
Mr. Kennedy took his leave, bowing gracefully and murmuring his farewells to the Bush sisters until each of them was blushing like a rose. He turned then to look at William.
“I wonder, Mr. Bush, if you would be so good as to help me with my mount?”
William raised an eyebrow at the request - he couldn’t imagine what assistance a man of Kennedy’s youth and obvious vigor might require - but he murmured his assent and followed the man outside, closing the door behind them.
Kennedy’s horse was hitched to a nearby post. He patted the chestnut’s neck and whispered a few words into its ear, smiling when the horse nickered softly.
“Do you need…?” William essayed.
Kennedy shook his head. “No, thank you. I plan to walk home. After such a feast, a little healthful exercise is just the thing. Will you accompany me part of the way?”
William nodded, falling in to step beside the vicar as he led his mount down the dusty road towards the parsonage.
“I hope you enjoyed our hospitality, Mr. Kennedy,” William said, feeling unaccountably awkward. Kennedy’s answering smile set him at his ease.
“Very much so. You sisters are very charming. And very fine cooks. Too fine, perhaps,” he added patting his belly. “I confess I’m suffering from a surfeit of hospitality.”
“Oh?”
Kennedy’s smile turned knowing. “An unfortunate side effect of being an unmarried vicar. I’ve been invited into every home in the distract that lays claim to an unmarried female. I’m beginning to feel a bit like a fox on the first day of hunting season,” he added wryly.
William couldn’t help but smile at that remark. Certainly his sisters had laid their own traps with great care but little subtlety.
“They’re all well intentioned, of course” he continued, one hand running idly along his mount’s neck. “But I am not quite ready to be stuffed and placed on a mantle just yet. If ever.”
Kennedy shot William a look. “Tell me, Mr. Bush, do you plan on remaining in Chichester for a bit?”
William nodded slowly. “Unless there is a sudden change in my circumstance or the peace is broken, I believe so, yes.”
“I wonder if you might do me the honor of coming to the parsonage some time to share some of those naval tales that are not fit for delicate female ears. I confess I miss the companionship of other men more than I had anticipated.”
His mouth curved into that charming, boyish grin that seemed so natural and yet which appeared so unsuited to the younger man’s position. “As further incentive, I can offer a fine bottle of brandy sitting untouched on the sideboard. And cigars. A cousin of mine has business interests in the colonies and he receives boxes of them from his associate in Virginia. Exceptionally fine.”
He cocked a brow at William. “Well?”
William found himself smiling back at the vicar. “It would be my pleasure, sir.”
Kennedy’s smile widened. “Wonderful! Tomorrow afternoon? After tea?”
William nodded. When Kennedy extended his hand, William took it in his, shaking it warmly.
They stood there, hands folded together and it was only belatedly that William realized that the clasp had lasted longer than was strictly necessary. He released the other man’s hand almost reluctantly. Kennedy took a step backwards, but he was still smiling.
“Well, I should be on my way and let you return home, lest your sisters think there’s something afoot. I would not wish to be the cause of discord in the Bush household.”
“I don’t believe there’s any cause for worry on that account.” Thinking on his sisters, William paused. “But perhaps it would be best not to make any mention of my intended visit to the parsonage.”
“A prudent course of action, sir,” Kennedy nodded soberly, but William could see the gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Until tomorrow, Mr. Bush.”
“Until then, Mr. Kennedy.”
William watched as Kennedy steered his mount along the narrow road back towards the parsonage for several minutes before turning on his heel and heading towards the neat little cottage that he called home. Suddenly, life in peacetime did not look nearly as dull as it once had.
Finis