Page 20 of The Dream of Love
Adam seemed relieved to see her. “No, you are right on time.”
He rose from his seat in the parlor and offered it to her, giving her arm a little squeeze, which she took to mean he was glad to see her.
“I think you know Lady Monkton.” He nodded toward an elegantly dressed blonde in her early thirties.
“I do. How are you, Lady Monkton?” Remi was sorry she and Adam would not have a moment alone. Perhaps he would agree to walk her back to Sherbourne Manor, then they could talk as they sauntered along the road. Yes, it was better to get him away from the vicarage, where he could come up with any feeble excuse to be rid of her and not answer more of her questions.
“Quite well. And you, Lady Remington? I understand you’ve landed in a spot of trouble yet again.”
It was a snide comment to make, but Remi tried to overlook her smirk and the way her chin was raised as though peering down her nose at Remi. “No, all is well.” She was not about to rise to the woman’s bait. “I’m so pleased Vicar Carstairs thought to ask me to your meeting.”
She turned to the other two ladies seated in Adam’s parlor. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Dowd. Miss Dowd. It is a lovely day, isn’t it?”
“Too warm for my liking,” said Mrs. Dowd, taking out her fan and waving it across her face so that her body odor wafted through the room. It wasn’t a very pleasant odor, which immediately broughtThe Book of Loveand its chapter on the sense of smell to Remi’s mind. As for herself, she’d added a lavender-scented oil to her bath and hoped she reminded Adam of his beloved Scottish home. If not that, then at least a pleasant Scottish flower.
Not that she was Scottish, but he was and obviously missed his home.
“Not a pleasant day at all,” Emily Dowd said, mimicking her mother’s disdainful air.
Remi shrugged off their dismissive glances, understanding why the Dowds were not happy to see her. She was competition for Emily, who no doubt sought Adam’s affections. Well, Remi refused to be glum about it. Emily was pretty, but she wasn’t particularly nice or clever, which made her completely unsuitable to be a vicar’s wife, especially this vicar.
As for Lady Monkton, she was a fairly attractive woman married to a lunkhead of a husband. He wasn’t cruel or prone to excessive drinking or gambling. He was just dull as dishwater. Remi was innocent, but not so innocent as to be ignorant of Lady Monkton’s intentions toward Adam. Not that he needed Remi to protect him from the unwanted advances of a hungry female.
But she did not like to think he might be receptive to the odious woman.
No, Adam was honorable. He would never take up with a married lady.
Remi was struggling for something polite to say in order to break the uncomfortable silence when Adam’s housekeeper rolled in the tea cart. “Lady Remington,” Adam said, turning to her, “may I impose upon you to act as my hostess?”
It was a proper request since she, despite being presently homeless, was the highest-ranking lady among them. “I would be delighted.”
Also, despite her rebellious nature, her years of finishing school had served their purpose. She knew how to behave like a lady, and was glad to have given thought to her attire. She wore a gown of ivory muslin with a forest-green pelisse that highlighted her auburn hair. She looked elegant but approachable. Her hair was done up in a braided chignon at the nape of her neck, once again elegant but not too ornate. She hoped to look charming and suitably understated, not the imperious earl’s daughter.
Two men hurried in as she was pouring tea for the ladies. The first gentleman was a local magistrate, Squire Claymore, a pleasant, rotund fellow who enjoyed hearing himself speak. The second was a successful local merchant by the name of Mr. Squibb who thought quite highly of himself.
Adam greeted them and motioned for them to be seated. “Shall we begin? Anyone have suggestions for our midsummer’s eve festivities?”
Mr. Squibb frowned. “I wouldn’t call our plans festive. We ought to be giving thanks to our Creator for providing us with our bounty. The children especially must be discouraged from behaving like heathens.”
The others took turns making comments and offering suggestions, none of which remotely appealed to Remi. Finally, it was her turn. She cleared her throat. “I think we must hold a fair. Surely a marionette show and some games for the children would not cause any harm. I think a three-legged race would be fun. Children need to run around, especially if the weather is beautiful. Perhaps we can make faerie wings for them and crown one of them the faerie queen or king. Food and dancing for the adults.”
Her suggestions were immediately voted down. “You seem to be under the misapprehension we are planning a party,” Lady Monkton said with a sniff.
“Why can it not be a party? Isn’t the point of this celebration to make goodness enjoyable?” Adam asked.
Remi glanced at him, hoping she hadn’t embarrassed him too badly. But he did not seem in the least disgruntled, so she pressed her suggestion. “What is wrong with holding a fair at the vicarage? Food, dancing, and games, but all for charity. I mentioned faerie wings, but we can call them angel wings instead. The three-legged races can be run for charity, each participating pair designating their favorite cause. A pie-eating contest, too. I’m sure the local landowners would all be happy to donate to a church roof or new psalm books or food for a struggling family, whatever the cause designated by the winner of each event. All for a good purpose, and the children would be quite happy to participate.”
“I like the idea,” Adam said before anyone else could respond. “Lady Remington, you seem to have given this serious thought. Midsummer’s Eve is a perfect time to bring our Wellesford families together to celebrate love of their neighbors and village. I have no doubt the Earl of Welles and Duke of Hartford would be happy to donate a few shillings to a good cause. Perhaps others would as well.” He stared pointedly at the magistrate and Mr. Squibb, both of whom felt a sudden need to stare at their toes.
“The children will feel quite proud of themselves. I’m sure they will enjoy racing across the field for a good cause,” Remi said.
Adam grinned at her. “Or stuff their little faces with pie to help fix our roof.”
Mrs. Dowd shot to her feet. “It seems the two of you have it all worked out. Come, Emily. We are obviously not wanted here.”
Adam sighed. “Do sit down, Mrs. Dowd. The fair is an excellent idea and we should all be in the planning of it together. Piety does not mean deprivation, and I certainly do not want any families in this parish to feel that attending my Sunday sermon is a chore. I particularly like the idea of involving the children in raising donations. I don’t know how better to make them feel as part of the Church.” He turned to Remi. “Will you take the lead in organizing the fair?”
Her eyes rounded in surprise. “Yes, I would love to.”
