Sanji walked with his hands behind his back next to Miss Pudding as they toured the grounds of his father's estate. He kept his father's words in mind and steered Miss Pudding and her younger sister towards the front of the house. Miss Flampe accompanied them as chaperone.
"Keep them to the north lawn. I will not have the likes of them look down upon the rest of our gardens," his father hissed in his ear before they left.
Miss Pudding was under a lace trimmed umbrella, slowly twirling it as they walked. The two of them made small talk about the weather and Sanji complimented her on the chocolates her family had brought.
He found himself taking longer glances at her, watching her pale skin glow under the shade of her umbrella.
Pudding looked back over at him, and smiling, she whispered. "Do you see something you like?"
Feeling emboldened, Sanji whispered back. "Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks - "
It was a mistake.
Miss Pudding pulled away. "Song of Solomon? Mother says that book is for dirty vicars. I prefer Proverbs. Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain; but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised."
Flushing, he could only reply back, "You are quite right, as always."
Sanji felt something tickle the back of his neck. Miss Flampe had torn off a small branch from the privet and was using it to amuse herself.
"Boring! So boring. Could we talk about something else?"
"Of course. My apologies."
Sanji hoped his father wasn't watching. If he had seen the damage done to the hedge by Miss Flampe, Sanji would would not hear the end of it later. "Miss Pudding, your mother mentioned you had plans to go into London this week?"
As Sanji listened to Miss Pudding, he began to fear that this beautiful young woman was too good for him. He worried she would soon figure out she was getting the unfair end of the bargain and change her mind about any possibility of a union.
She was rich, beautiful, and kind hearted. He was the third son of a Lord, with no money and no real prospects. Even his own father saw little in him.
Shaking off these melancholy thoughts, Sanji paid careful attention to Miss Pudding. Her church auxiliary group, the Daughters of Paradise, were not just going to London.
The Daughters of Paradise was headed to the East End to engage in charity work among the wretched and destitute citizens there.
"They eat a warm meal and get a chance at salvation, the poor dears. My brother is quite good, for not being ordained. If he only had the chance, Perospero could have brought Charles Darwin down to his knees in prayer."
Of that, Sanji had little doubt. Perospero made him pray to God that every time they met, if only to wish their time would be cut short.
"Our other brothers will be going as well. Katakuri insisted because of that prostitute who got herself murdered last week. She had her throat slashed," Miss Flampe made a gesture across her own throat. "And her organs were removed."
Sanji found himself stopped on the footpath.
"The poor woman." He hoped her death came quickly, at the very least.
"Do you think she was still alive when he took them out?" asked Miss Flampe.
"Flampe!" scolded Miss Pudding. "Do you think this is the proper kind of talk to have with nobility? I apologize to Lord Sanji. The stories of the murders have a fever hold on some. Mother will be hearing all about this, I assure you."
Sanji watched Flampe go pale.
He had heard rumors that Mrs. Charlotte had fractured the knee of one of her sons with her walking cane because he had upset her. The rumors of what the cause might have been varied. Those in Lord Sanji's circle delighted in retelling any gossip involving the vulgar Mrs. Charlotte.
They said her son took the last spiced bun at tea. Some said he tried to stop her from beating a stable hand. Others claimed she caught him in flagrante delicto with the -
Sanji stopped his train of thought there. He had enough sins on his conscience as it was.
"There's no need to bother your mother with this, I think, Miss Pudding. I blame the newspapers for turning tragedy into a circus, not for enlightenment but for profit. They are without pity."
"You have a soft heart," commented Miss Pudding.
"Is that good?" asked Sanji. He tried to laugh but felt it die in his throat. His own father had often said the same.
"Charity is one of the theological virtues, so it is good that you hold it in your heart. But, if I may be so bold, there are six others that cannot be ignored. Charity is not greater than temperance or justice. That poor woman, as you called her, can no longer sin or lead others to sin." Miss Pudding's nose wrinkled and her eyes narrowed in disgust. "I'd rather be dead than a whore."
The venom in Miss Pudding's words momentarily took away Sanji's breath. He rallied himself, however.
Of course, Miss Pudding would have strong feelings on this matter. She was so very virtuous herself.
"I suppose some people just want to live," he was finally able to say.
Miss Pudding squeezed his arm.
"I'm so glad we're on the same page. Yes, some people are simply weak. It is our mission to show them a better path."
Lord Sanji shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand and looked out across his father's estate, seeing the details that told him it was slowly falling into disrepair. "I pray for a better path for us all and that God may grant us the wisdom to see it."
In the distance, the hedge sparrows argued in song.
"Boring," intoned Flampe. "Can we go back now?"
"Of course. Anything for two beautiful young women. Your wish is my command."
Sanji spoke automatically, the words of flattery coming easy to his lips.
As the three of them strolled back to the manor house, he thought over his own ingratitude. He willed away any hard judgments that might have passed through his mind, no matter how fleeting.
Miss Pudding's intentions were as good and as his own misgivings were ugly.
Sanji just hoped he could become the man she deserved.