Petteril's Portrait by Mary Lancaster

Author:Mary Lancaster [Lancaster, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mary Lancaster
Published: 2024-02-10T07:00:00+00:00

“DO YOU PLAY, MY LORD?” Orville replied with such surprise that Piers assumed either Hope or his aunt had been talking about him.

“I enjoy the odd game,” Piers said. “I was hoping to have a quick one before dinner, and I understand you are the prevailing champion.”

“Only because Sir Peter does not take it seriously,” Orville said modestly.

He sat down in the chair April had just vacated and Piers pushed the board, already set up with its pieces, into the middle of the table. Picking up a black and a white pawn he rolled them between his hands and without looking, hid one in each fist. Orville tapped his right hand and was given the white pawn.

Piers turned the board. “You do take chess seriously?”

“I prefer to do my opponent the courtesy of keeping my mind on the game.”

“Let me guess.” Piers brought out his pawn to face Orville’s. “Hope’s and Sir Peter’s attention was distracted by my little cousin Gussie. My only surprise is that she did not win overall.”

“She beat both of them at least once.”

“But not you?”

“As I said, my mind was on the game. And she had not the benefit of having been taught by Sir Weston.”

“Of course. You are Sir Peter’s cousin, are you not?”

“My mother was Sir Weston’s sister. Sir Weston was my godfather and happily let my sisters and I run tame here over many a summer. In fact, I owe him my living at St. Claire’s.”

“Is that near here?”

“Near enough to visit. I shall return tomorrow, though my sister will remain with Lady Haggard for another week.”

For a little, they played on in silence. Then Piers said, “I have been impressed by how well everyone here speaks of the late Sir Weston.”

“He was an extraordinary man. I would even say a great one—a rich man who used his wealth and position for the benefit of others. There was nothing high in the instep about him, always willing to help and to understand.”

From which Piers gathered that Orville’s own parents were not. Taking a wild guess, he said, “Your own father did not understand your vocation for the Church?”

Orville grimaced. “My father was a soldier, sir, and understood no other way of life for a man.” He blinked as Piers took his bishop. Then brought back his rook to protect his king and queen. “I shall always be grateful to Uncle Weston for supporting me in my desire to enter the Church. Without him, my father would never have countenanced it. But that is not why I hold my uncle in such affection.”

Piers let him think and play his way out of the dilemma he had caused on the board, then gave him another. “You must have been very shocked by the defacement of his portrait.”

Frowning at the board, Orville’s attention, clearly, was only partly on the conversation. “Appalled, sir. Appalled. Such mindless violence—”

“Do you think it was mindless?” Piers asked, allowing surprise into his voice.

Orville blinked several times at the board. “Of course.

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