Mrs. Atkins had come to live in the village with her husband and their young son, Peter, several months before Kit himself had moved to Avesbury House. George had assumed they’d met here, but later he’d learned that Kit and Mrs. Atkins had been close friends for many years and that Kit was godfather to Peter. Indeed, Kit had provided the capital to set up the school the Atkinses had established in the village.
George offered Mrs. Atkins a small bow. “Good afternoon, ma’am. I do hope you’re well?”
“Good afternoon, my lord,” she returned, inclining her head. “Yes, I’m very well, thank you. A beautiful day, is it not?”
“Quite lovely,” George agreed, his smile polite.
“Do join us,” Kit said warmly, drawing George's attention back to him. “Cook sent us a mountain of cakes to eat, and we’re quite defeated, aren't we, Peter?”
It was only then that George spotted the small boy sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing with a handful of tin soldiers.
The boy looked up at this, seeming insulted. “I’m not defeated!” he protested. “I’m just having a rest.”
“Hmm.” Kit raised his brows, but he was smiling. “But even if your mother allowed you to have another three slices of cake?—”
“Which she would not,” Mrs. Atkins interrupted in a firm voice.
“—there would still be plenty left over to share,” Kit continued.
Peter sighed at this. “Yes,” he said sadly. “That’s true.”
Kit returned his gaze to George who was still hovering in the doorway. “So,” he said. “Will you join us? Roberts just brought us a fresh pot of tea.”
George didn’t really want to make polite conversation right now, but he’d been trying to make more of an effort with Kit, since it so obviously made his father happy. He knew he’d been a little standoffish with Kit when Kit had first arrived at Avesbury House—not because he disliked the man but because he was standoffish with everyone. He’d never been the sort of fellow who was easy with new people.
Now, though, he forced himself to smile. “All right. Thank you.”
Kit looked briefly surprised, before smiling widely. “I’ll pour you some tea.”
While Kit busied himself pouring George’s tea, then filling a plate for him, George settled into one of the armchairs and began talking to Mrs. Atkins about how things were going with the school. She seemed content to chatter away while he ate and drank.
After a while, Peter got up from the floor and approached Kit, whispering something in his ear. A moment later, Kit was getting out of his chair and joining him on the floor while the boy emptied a box of dominoes onto the rug.
“Peter,” Mrs. Atkins said, a warning note in her voice. “Don’t have Uncle Kit playing dominoes all afternoon.”
“We’ll just play best of eleven,” Peter said, not looking up from his job of turning all the dominoes over so the spots were hidden.
“Best of five,” Kit said, with a chuckle.
“Seven, Uncle Kit?” Peter countered hopefully.
“All right,” Kit replied indulgently, his expression fond.
Mrs. Atkins sighed. Then she returned her attention to George, who was setting down his empty plate. “I hear you have a rather marvellous library.”
“Oh, yes, we’re very lucky,” he replied. “Would you like to see it? It’s just next door.”
Her pretty face lit up. “That would be wonderful.”
They left Kit and the boy engaged in what sounded like an exceedingly competitive game and went next door. George pointed out the different categories of books and explained how they were shelved. When she gave a shout of glee at discovering several of Sir Walter Scott’s novels, he insisted she borrow The Bride of Lammermoor, the only one she had not yet read. Then he pressed her to take The Tales of Mother Goose by Charles Perrault too, to read with Peter.
“I loved this when I was his age,” he said, handing it to her. “I used to read it with my mother.”
Her pretty gaze softened. “You’re very kind,” she said, cradling the books reverently. “I’ll return them next time I visit Kit.”
“No need to rush,” George assured her, smiling. “If Peter’s anything like I was, he won’t be satisfied with reading it just once.”
Later, after Mrs. Atkins and Peter had left, Kit said, “It was very kind of you to lend Clara the books. Particularly the Mother Goose one—I know it must be very dear to you.”
