Lord Day and Lady Night

46. Pa-tricking People

The waiter looked at Amy, squirming, his eyes flitting over their little group. He cleared his throat.

"Miss, I'm afraid this is...not in accordance with restaurant policies."

"It ain't?" the young woman innocently enquired. "But dis is a restaurant, ain't it? A place for eatin'?"

"Yes, but..." Once again, the waiter threw a glance towards the children and, in particular, the bunnies they were holding, who were quite happily munching on lettuce leaves. "Not like that!"

That was the moment when Lord Patrick Day decided to make his presence known. Clearing his throat, he stepped up behind the waiter.

"May I ask, is there anything the matter?" His Lordship enquired, cocking an eyebrow. "If you have any objections to my dinner guests, by all means, go ahead and voice them."

"Objections?" The waiter whirled around to face him. "Of course I have objections! You cannot simply—"

That was when he first truly took in Lord Patrick Day. Golden hair. A face that could make angels cry. A meticulously handcrafted suit straight from Savile Row, that probably cost more than this entire restaurant.

"Gmfdmph," the waiter said.

"You were saying there is something I cannot do?"

"N-no! Of course not!"

"That's what I thought."

"Please come this way, Mister..."

"No. Not Mister." Lord Patrick nodded, picking the stack of menus from the waiter's hands. Fishing a chequebook out of his pocket, one that just happened to have his personal crest emblazoned upon it, he jotted down a number with numerous zeroes in it and, with a flick of the pen, added his signature. Tearing off the cheque, he held it out towards the waiter with the coat of arms clearly displayed.

"This should be sufficient, I believe. You may consider the remainder your tip for the day."

The waiter's eyes zeroed in on the cheque and, in particular, the number and the name.

And title.

"Y-yes, My Lord! Definitely, My Lord!"

"Oh, and have some of your best wines brought to the table. And fruit juice for the children."

"Right away, My Lord! I'll be back in a moment!"

He dashed off into the kitchen and, to judge by the look on his face, as far away from the farm animals invading his restaurant as he could possibly get.

Lord Patrick turned towards where Amy and the beaming children sat, one corner of his mouth curling up into a smile.

Sometimes, he thought to himself, it is marvellous to be a lord.

Then his eyes fell on the adults sitting at one end on the table, clearly discussing something not meant for the ears of the children—or rabbits—on the other end.

And sometimes, it is a heavy responsibility.

"So...what are you plotting, if I may enquire?"

The five looked up at him guiltily—well, except Amy, who was eyeing his chequebook, and Titus, who had never felt guilt for anything in his life.

"Is it dat obvious?" the vicar's wife raised an eyebrow.

"Well..." He glanced over at the five children who were quite happily hugging their munching bunnies, completely oblivious to what was happening. Then his gaze flicked to the adult group sitting at the opposite end of the table, out of hearing range of even the largest, most acute bunny ears, huddled together like a bunch of conspirators. "The setup is not particularly well-disguised. Besides..." Lowering her voice, he added, "Do you think I was not expecting this? Why do you think I came up with this idea in the first place?"