"Friesner, Esther M - ss - A Beltaine and Suspenders" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friesner Esther M)

ESTHER M. FRIESNER

A BELTAINE AND SUSPENDERS

I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU say, Olivia; it's no natural place." John Herrick, Vicar
of Staddle-upon-Truss, dashed the papers onto the pew beside him and lifted his
well-chiseled chin in a manner straight out of the more popular female romances.
To the casual observer, Father Herrick did not seem a typical servant of the
Lord, unless it were Lord Byron.

"You dropped one," said Telemachus Battle-Purfitt, frantically wiggling long,
pale fingers at the errant sheet.

The vicar retrieved the page and gave it a superficial glance. "Oh, that's
merely a copy of an especially intriguing passage from the Stilby-Nash. You may
have it for your records, if you like. I've the original." He offered it to
Telemachus.

"No, no thanks, nonono, not to bother." Telemachus fairly gasped out the words,
backpedaling swiftly until his shoulders were nearly pressed flat against the
bizarre mural on the parish church wall which he had been at such pains to
uncover and restore for these past seven months. Flakes of plaster clung to his
jacket and blobs of freshly applied tempera stained his cuffs, but it did not
seem to matter to him so much as his successful escape from accepting the
vicar's paper.

"Do give it up, Father John," said Olivia Drummond in her clear, capable voice.
In heavy walking tweeds and thick brogues, she lounged against another pew as if
she were the squire of some rural seat come to exercise political bonhomie by
mixing with the locals at the pub. "He won't touch a thing that's been on the
floor, even if it is a consecrated one. You know our Tilly and germs."

A weak smile fairly doubled over Telemachus' meagre-fleshed face. "Just a
precaution," he quavered, scampering back up the scaffolding to the safety of
his scrapers and palette knives. "Mummy says one never knows, especially after
all those London mites trampling through the house."

Father Herrick stacked his papers smartly. "I don't know why your mother ever
agreed to take in so many city kids during the Blitz, old boy. Not if it was
half the strain you paint it."

A spark of alien fire kindled in Telemachus' shallow blue eyes, a fugitive Bolt
of gumption striking his book-curved spine abruptly stiff. "Whatever her
personal feelings in the matter, Mummy has never been known to shirk the
performance of her duty."

"Too right." Olivia laughed until her skinny shoulders shook beneath their
burden of woven wool. "England expects, but Lady Battle-Purfitt forestalls. Oh,