Chapter Five

Perdita gazed into the vicar's blue eyes, which were staring right back at her, and forgot how to breathe for a moment. He was the most beautiful man she had ever encountered. Technically, Tom Roundtree was more classically handsome, but the perfect symmetry and serenity of Mr. Darby's face were more appealing to her.

Someone cleared their throat. Coming back to herself, Perdita blushed and was forced to look at something else. The vicar’s shoes, for example. Though they were clean and shiny, the wrinkles on the black leather showed that they were not new. The vicar, she saw, smiled before turning away as well.

“Tom, if you could please hold Elliott back,” Mr. Darby said, nodding at the younger pastor. “His exuberance is making Miss Sanchez a little nervous.”

“Oh, of course.” Mr. Roundtree grabbed the dog’s collar, knelt down to the grass, and hugged the animal to his body. “You’ll have to excuse Elliott, Miss Sanchez. He tends to get overexcited around new friends. He means you no harm.”

Perdita clutched her pendant and felt a little foolish. She thought she might have seen a slight smirk on Miss Easton’s face and wondered at the cause of it. Did she think it was funny that Perdita was afraid of canines?

Her older brother Miguel, who died in the second world war, had a wonderful dog named Brutus, whom he left in her care. But one day, Brutus went out hunting with their father, and the poor dog must have gotten bit by some rabid animal or something because when he returned to the villa, Perdita knew immediately there was something wrong with him. Her hand went to the spot just below her collarbone, where Brutus had bitten her. In her nightmares, she could still hear the boom of the shotgun that her father fired and blasted Brutus off of her.

Mr. Darby placed his palm on the small of her back and prompted her past the gate. She shivered from the deliciousness of the contact and hoped he didn’t feel the tremor that went through her body. For a moment, she forgot about her canine fear. “Thank you. So, this is the vicarage,” she remarked for lack of anything else to say. “It’s lovely.”

And it was. The house was an old-fashioned, Tudor-style structure made of red bricks and dark wood with green slate roof tiles. She couldn’t picture a vicar living anywhere else. Not that she even knew many vicars—just this one, she thought—but it seemed like a perfect house for him. The front yard displayed a variety of flowers: roses, violets, petunias, and marigolds. There were also a couple of fruit trees, maybe apple and cherry? She’d have to ask the vicar.

Mr. Roundtree had the poor dog properly restrained. It wasn’t barking, just looking at her with its large doggy eyes and its tongue hanging out. Her hand tightened around her reticule as she backed away toward the fence. Mr. Darby approached the animal, knelt on the grass, and allowed it to lick his face. He laughed and rubbed its head and ears.

“Good boy, Elliott,” he said. “We’ll go for a walk a little later, ok?” He straightened and wiped his hands on his black trousers before extending his palm to her. “We should probably go in before Mrs. Malone sends out a search party.”

He looked absolutely dashing out of his vestments and in a simple black suit with a white clerical collar. Perdita’s hand was shaking as she placed it in Mr. Darby’s reach. As his fingers closed around hers, the black rings around the blue of his eyes seemed to get thicker and darker. “I’m sorry about… the dog,” she said, biting down on her lower lip. “I know it’s silly.”

He shook his head and flashed her a smile that took her breath away. “My sister Trinity doesn’t like dogs at all. She’s a cat person. She has two cats in her flat in London. Her boyfriend Jackson is not a fan of them, I’m afraid.”

“Simon, I’ll go ahead and escort Miss Easton inside. I’ll take Elliott to the backyard, too,” Mr. Roundtree said, patting the vicar on the back.

“Thank you, Tom. We’ll be right in ourselves. I just want to show off Mrs. Malone’s garden to Miss Sanchez first.”

“See you inside, then.”

Perdita thought she saw Miss Easton’s mouth tighten in disapproval as she passed them on their way into the house. Was it Perdita’s dress she didn’t like? At the chapel, Perdita spotted a few young women wearing colorful day dresses as well, so it wasn’t as though she meant to stand out. She was the only one wearing red, however. Maybe Miss Easton disapproved of red. A lot of people did. Or perhaps it was her skin color that Miss Easton found offensive. Her grandmother on her father’s side was Northern African, which was why Perdita was darker than most mestizas. She herself suffered discrimination in Northern California even though many mixed-race people lived in the area. She could not pass as a white woman anywhere.

“Miss Sanchez.” Mr. Darby touched her arm. “Are you all right? You have a concerned expression on your face. Are you still worried about Elliott? I assure you, he's a harmless dog.”

Perdita felt the blush go up to her neck and face. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was merely lost in thought.” She pointed to the two small trees close together. “Are those apple and cherry trees?”

The vicar nodded. He had his hands folded together behind his back now so that no part of him was touching her. “They are indeed. They are too young to yield any fruit yet, but we should have a nice little harvest next year.”

Perdita played with the edging of her neckline as she tried to think of something interesting to say. She was horrified to find her mind blank. She studied Literature and Music at Stanford University. She was an educated woman. Why couldn’t she think of a thing to say to him? “I like trees” was the only thing she could manage. Idiot.

“I do, too,” replied the vicar with another smile. “I grew up in Northern Yorkshire, where there was nothing but trees for miles. My father is a doctor, and we eventually moved to London because he was offered work in a teaching hospital.”

“Oh.” Perdita gazed into his eyes and imagined they were pools of water she could drown in. “Did caretaking come naturally for you, then? Your father tends to bodies while you fix matters of the heart and soul.”

He laughed at that. “I don’t always succeed, but I do try my best with God’s guidance.” He offered his elbow to her. “Shall we go in? I don’t want your aunt to think I’ve absconded with you.”

Perdita slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and sighed. Touching him felt as natural as breathing. “My aunt is suspicious of everyone. My mother eloped with my father, you see, and their parents didn’t initially approve of the marriage. They blamed my aunt because she is the elder sister. Now she sees herself as my sentry and guardian.”

“So, your grandparents eventually approved of your mother’s union to your father,” Mr. Darby concluded, patting her gloved hand. They were taking their time to reach the door of the house.

“Money talks, you see.” Perdita was embarrassed to relate the history of her parents’ marriage. “My father came from a wealthy Spanish family, and he owns hundreds of acres of land in Northern California. For that, my grandparents were willing to overlook his less than stellar bloodline.”

“What do you mean?”

Perdita thought she might have said too much. What if Mr. Darby cared about such things as well and objected to her Moor blood? “Maybe that’s a story for another time, Mr. Darby. You’ve promised to take me down the river on a punt, remember? Whatever would we discuss then?”

His blue eyes sparkled with mirth. “I’m sure we’ll find something to talk about, Miss Sanchez.” He pushed open the front door and gently prodded her into the house. “Welcome to the vicarage.”

Perdita spun around, her hands clasped together against her bosom, and admired the structure and layout of the vicar’s home. It was a lot more spacious than it looked on the outside. Directly in front of them was a staircase that led to the second story of the house, where she assumed the bedrooms were. On one side of the stairs, she saw a drawing room with an arched doorway along the far wall that led to what looked like a living room. On the other side of the staircase was a dining area, and what she assumed to be the kitchen. Mr. Darby took her around the stairs and showed her a corridor that led to a wc and his home office. She adored the placements of all the picture windows that brought natural light into the house.

To Perdita, it looked like… home. She chided herself for her presumptuous thoughts. Would she be happy as a vicar’s wife? She’d have to decline William’s marriage proposal, which would make Mother unhappy. She peeked at Mr. Darby from the corner of her eyes. Oh, she wasn’t even sure if he returned her regard.

He looked down at her with a smile in his gaze. “So, what do you think?”

“It’s absolutely marvelous.”