CHAPTER ONE
“Yvette, a moment, if you do not mind.”
Miss Yvette Norleigh was walking past the doorway to her father’s office when she heard him call for her. She was busy at the moment, an entire morning of chores that needed to be done, but her father’s call was enough to drag her away from them, as she knew that he would not be asking for her unless it was something important.
“Yes, Father?” she asked as she stepped into his office.
Her father’s office was a clustered mess of shelves and stacked books, the type that needed a good clean and sorting through, but would never get such a thing, as this was the one room that Yvette was not allowed in on her own. While her father had changed much these past few years, there were still glimpses of his old self about, notable in how messy and disorganized he could be. Not to mention stubborn.
She stood in the doorway, waiting until he saw her.
His head was bent over his desk, his eyes fixed on the tome he had open before him. He held a quill, and as he read through the tome, he scratched at a piece of parchment beside it. Brow furrowed, shoulders rigid, he gave no indication that he noticed her.
“Father…” she pressed gently.
“One moment,” he responded without looking up. “Just allow me to…” He continued to scratch away.
Yvette’s father was the vicar of this church and had been since he was a young man. His parish was a rather small one, existing on an estate owned by His Grace, the Duke of Pembourne, and at most it might see a congregation of two dozen local farmers, their wives, and their children.
Not an important church in the grand scheme of things, but that made little difference to her father. This might have been Westminster Abbey, for how seriously he took his role.
“Where are you off to?” her father asked without looking up.
“Off to?” Yvette blinked. “I do not understand…”
“Your tasks, girl,” he corrected. “What tasks have you left for this morning?”
“Oh,” she said. “Yes, of course. I was just about to finish cleaning the church, Father. It has always confused me how dirty it gets after a single mass. I suppose that’s what comes with serving mostly farmers, though, isn’t it?” She laughed softly at the comment. Her father, however, continued to scribble away without looking up. “After which…” Yvette cleared her throat. “I expect the children will have finished eating by that point, so I will be attending to that mess.” She laughed again. “And what a mess they make.”
“Children?” Her father paused.
“The orphans,” she corrected. “I saw them making their way over just now, and there are close to a dozen. I swear they are like mice, the way they multiply.” More laughter, again not returned by her father.
“Good. Good…” Her father scribbled a moment longer and then sighed before placing down the quill, shutting the tome, and folding his hands on the desk. And then, he looked at her. “I ask because I am expecting an important guest later at the house and –”
“A guest?” she interrupted. “Who is it, Father?”
He looked at her flatly.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “I did not mean to interrupt.”
He sighed. “That is fine. As I was saying, I am expecting an important guest later at the house, and I would prefer not to be interrupted. So, if you might oblige this request and spend your morning at the church, that would be much appreciated.”
“How will I know when this guest has left?” she asked.
“I will send word.”
He continued to look at her, likely expecting her to ask again who the guest was. And oh, how she wanted to. It was rare for anyone of importance to visit her father outside of church hours, and that her father saw fit to warn her…it must be someone very important indeed.
Yvette did not ask the question again, because she knew there was no point. While her father was not overtly strict, and he certainly was not cruel, she knew him well enough to know that if he wanted to tell her who the guest was, he would.
That he did not tell her meant that he did not want her to know.
“Is there anything else?” she asked, sensing an end to this conversation.
“Yes, actually.” He smirked and shook his head. “At the risk of showing my vanity, how was the sermon today?” He gestured to what he was working on: the tome and the parchment on the table. “I worry sometimes that I ramble.”
Yvette smiled. “You were wonderful, Father. As always.”
