A Noble Pair of Brothers (The Underwood Mysteries Book 1) Read Free Page B

had been the moment when she had ceased to merely despise him to actively disliking him.  She now tried to avoid him as far as she possibly could, though she was occasionally obliged to eat at the same table as the family.
    With all this in mind, and still stinging from the unpleasant exchange with Charlotte, Verity was beginning to seriously consider her position in the Wynter household.
    She could think of nothing that could possibly happen that would make her change her plans. 
    Perhaps it really was time for her to look for another job.
     
     
    *

CHAPTER THREE
     
     
    (“Telum Imbelle Sine Ictu” - An ineffectual argument )
     
     
     
    Left alone in the vicarage drawing room, Mr. Underwood took a few moments to look about him.  The furniture had evidently been inherited with the house, for it was dark, heavy and old-fashioned – puritanical in design, purely practical and far from comfortable.  He walked past the vast fireplace and squeezing between the overcrowded chairs and tables, made his way to the window.
    He immediately decided that the effort to reach this destination had not been worth the aspect afforded, for this particular room overlooked the churchyard.  The wind seemed to have grown more boisterous – or did it simply blow more savagely over the open space between the walls of the church and the vicarage?  A couple of saplings lashed about, almost bent double by the stronger gusts, and only the two ancient yews refused to yield to the growing gale.  They deigned only to bow slightly and rustle a little, like irritated dowagers who refuse to be drawn into an unbecoming display of temper.
    Mr. Underwood seemed to sink into a reverie as he stared out at the bending grasses and the moss bedecked headstones.  His face grew more drawn than mere tiredness dictated, and there was a hint of melancholy in his eyes which could not be explained by the depressing proximity of the graveyard.  He did not hear his brother come back into the room and Gil was rather concerned by the picture he presented.  The vicar had been convinced that his brother had succeeded in putting his past behind him, that he had recovered himself fully, but this unguarded moment made it clear that no such transformation had taken place.  Mr. Underwood was as haunted now as he had been ten years before.
    “Come to the fire, old fellow.  There are howling draughts by the window, and Mrs. Selby is bringing the tea.”
    Underwood stared blankly at his brother for a moment before he came to himself and remembered where he was.  He straightened his shoulders in a visible effort to shake off his previous mood and managed a slight smile, “I hope my bedroom is at the front of the house.”
    Aware that he had made a serious error of judgement, the vicar answered diffidently, “I thought it would be quieter for you at the back.”
    “Too quiet!” retorted his brother emphatically.
    “I’ll speak to Mrs. Selby after tea.”
    “Please do.”
    Mr. Underwood sat down and watched his brother with faint amusement as he fussily unlocked the tea caddy and carefully mixed measured spoonsful of the two different sorts.  The kettle was lifted from the trivet by the fire just as the wisp of steam grew steady and the first drop was used to warm the pot, before being emptied into a small bowl provided for the purpose.
    “Wouldn’t it be easier for Mrs. Selby to do all that in the kitchen?” he asked when the ritual was almost complete.   It was the vicar’s turn to look appalled, “Oh dear me, no!  I’ve tried and tried to teach her the art of tea-making, but she insists upon a slapdash approach which quite ruins the flavour!”
    It occurred to Mr. Underwood that he was not the only member of his family who had spent rather too many years alone.  He was suddenly uncomfortably aware than many little habits acquired over the years could all too easily turn from quirks into eccentricities and doubtless caused great amusement amongst