At the end of the lane was a bookseller. She nearly succumbed, but even Papa already had enough books to keep him busy for a long time. As she wandered, she began to think that had she wanted anything here—bread, cider, a book—she could simply buy it. It was a novel sensation, and a very welcome one.
Elizabeth decided to return to the carriage and turned to tell Thatcher so when two little boys caught her eye. They were standing opposite Mrs. Brown’s pie stall, but not approaching. The older boy was holding the younger one’s hand.
They were the boys who had knocked her over outside the draper’s, she was sure of it. They were even wearing the same clothes.
“Good day, gentlemen,” she told them. “Are you planning to purchase a pie?”
The older boy shrugged. “Might.”
Elizabeth handed the younger boy a coin. “I think you should. They smell wonderful.”
The little boy looked up into her face and wrapped a grubby fist around the coin, but he did not speak.
“We don’t need no charity,” the older said. “Give it back, Harry.”
“It is not charity,” Elizabeth replied. “It is pie.”
“It’s pie,” Harry whispered to the older boy. This close, Elizabeth could see they bore a strong resemblance to one another. Their faces were dirty, and their clothes threadbare. She wondered where they lived and thought she might wish to speak with Mr. Milner about them.
“Good day,” she said, and then turned to leave the green before Harry could be forced to return the penny. Thatcher followed behind. But she did not walk back to her coach.
The village parsonage, a comfortable home with a substantial garden in the front, was near the church at the end of the high street. Elizabeth strolled up to the door and was invited inside by the maid.
Within a few minutes, Elizabeth was sitting in a worn leather armchair, a steaming cup of tea warming her hands while Mrs. Milner sat in the corner, knitting. Mr. Milner arrived with a pair of new leather boots, which he placed on a shelf.
“Mrs. Potter found some dogs ready to snatch these and thought I might like to make an announcement to find the owner on Sunday. They are rather fine, so I expect they have been missed.”
The vicar then turned to regard Elizabeth with a serious, solemn sort of patience, taking his seat as he waited for her to gather her thoughts.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Mr. Milner.” Elizabeth hesitated, but she knew he could help. “I find myself already in need of your counsel.”
“Of course, Miss Bennet.” Milner smiled warmly at her. “What troubles you?”
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I encountered two boys in the village. The first time I saw them, they were running past the draper’s and almost knocked me down, and this morning they were at the market. I believe they are brothers, and they are clearly in some difficulty. Poorly fed, poorly clothed. I wish to help them, but the older boy is proud, and I am unsure of the best way to proceed in a way that respects his dignity.”
The pastor nodded knowingly. “Blonde boys? About ten and six?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Milner tsked.
“I know the boys you mean. Matthew and Harry Sykes. They have been in town much more frequently of late. They have nomother, and their father is a hard man. He cannot be harvesting much this year if the boys are here rather than helping him at home.”
“Surely there is something we can do.”
“You are wise to approach this delicately. In cases such as these, it is often better to offer help rather than charity, especially to two young, strong boys. And you certainly do not want to either run afoul of the father or be thought an easy mark.”
“I am listening,” Elizabeth said, setting her tea down on the table nearest her.
“The church requires assistance with various tasks—weeding the garden, keeping the churchyard tidy, helping with small repairs, that sort of thing. We could offer the boys some honest work. It would provide them with a little money, some food from the garden, and a hot meal each day.”
“Will you be teaching the boys how to make those repairs, Mr. Milner?”
“Mr. Oliver has tended to the needs of the church for many years, Miss Bennet. He will be the one to take the boys in hand and teach them what they need to know.”
“Will Mr. Oliver welcome them?”
Mrs. Milner made another tsking sound from her chair in the corner, and Mr. Milner lifted a bushy eyebrow at her.
