Page 28 of A Victim, A Viscount, And Miss Mifford
"I agree," Miss Laura Morton nodded her golden curls in agreement, "I have not yet finished stitching the sampler I designed to mark his passing. I have used Psalm 34:18 for the lettering and a flock of doves and lilies to decorate it; would anyone care to see?"
There was a muted response to this question, for Miss Morton was universally viewed as something of a milksop, but Jane took pity on her and asked to view the work.
"Beautiful stitching, Miss Morton," Jane offered, before passing the sampler around the circle, where the ladies offered their own lacklustre compliments on her work.
"Thank you," Miss Morton, who was often as dense as rout-cake, preened at their half-hearted words, "When it's finished, I am of a mind to gift it to the new viscount, or, perhaps, offer it as a prize in the tombola."
"Oh, don't do that, dear," Mrs Mifford interjected, "We need a proper prize for that, or we'd never sell any tickets."
Miss Morton's face fell and Jane hastily moved the conversation on, lest it descended into further farce or, worse, tears.
"So, it is a nay from Mrs Canards and Miss Morton," Jane noted, "Does anyone else object?"
As was expected, Mrs Wickling raised her arm in the air, so that her objection might be noted. The rest of the ladies, however, did not follow suit.
"We cancelled the last assembly to honour the man," Mrs Mifford grumbled, "Do we need to cancel them all from now until infinity, lest someone ends up offended? He was two and eighty ; it was hardly a tragedy."
As ever, Mrs Mifford's words managed to upset someone; this time, Miss Prunella Hughes, who dissolved into a puddle of sobs.
"Oh, dear," Mrs Mifford had the decency to look somewhat chastised, "Of course it was a tragedy for you, Miss Hughes, I do not argue against that. It's just, that it was not so sad after all, for the rest of us. In fact, I have heard a few people say—"
"Thank you, Mother," Jane hastily interrupted, before her mother could tell the sobbing Miss Hughes how little the villagers had cared about Lord Crabb's death.
"It is alright," Miss Hughes batted away concern and proffered handkerchiefs with a watery smile, "Do not mind me. I have not been myself of late. An assembly might be just the thing the village needs, to lift the gloom from the place. I know I could do with some cheering up."
"See," Mrs Mifford, who thought herself above many things but was not above crowing a victory, said to Mrs Canards, "Even Miss Hughes is in favour of holding a dance. Let's set the date ladies, before anyone else raises any more frivolous concerns."
Jane, who was in agreement with her mother that it would be best if the meeting was not delayed any longer—mostly in fear that her mama might say something base again—quickly extracted an agreeable date from the group.
"It shall be held on the next full moon," Jane summarised, for travelling was easier under the light of a moon, "In the room above The Ring. Mrs Canards and Mrs Wickling shall be on ticketing duty, while the rest of us shall stay behind afterwards to clean."
"I shall confirm the date with the musicians," Mrs Price added, which sounded far more important a task than it actually was, given that the musicians numbered three and not one of them were likely to have any other plans of a winter's evening.
"And I shall let Lord Crabb know of it," Mrs Mifford added, patting her curls importantly, "What a pity we did not know of this yesterday, for we were invited to dine with him last night."
With that settled—and with the room once again assured of her status as better—Mrs Mifford made a great show of gathering her things together, so that everyone might know that she considered the meeting at an end.
"I would like it noted, for the record, that Mrs Price and I have not settled our earlier disagreement," Mrs Canards huffed, as the ladies began to filter out, "I cannot stand idly by and allow the scones at the spring tea-party be contaminated by sub-par conserves."
As Mrs Price had already left, there was nothing that Jane could do bar dutifully note Mrs Canards' concerns in the minutes of the meeting, while making a mental note to feign a migraine the next month so she would not have to deal with the fallout.
Mrs Canards stalked out, with her nose in the air, leaving the Parish Hall empty, bar Sarah, who had lingered to help Jane put away the chairs.
"I apologise for my haste," Sarah called, as she swept around the room as fast as a shiny new Phaeton, "It's just I dare not leave Prunella outside alone for too long."
"The wolves might pounce," Jane agreed, before adding thoughtfully, "The poor girl looks like a strong wind might knock her over."
"Yes," Sarah paused, her brow marred into a concerned frown, "My mama thinks she is pining for Lord Crabb; she said she was the same way herself when Papa went off to Oxford—unable to eat because she missed him so."
"I know," Sarah continued, as she caught Jane's expression of disbelief, "It is difficult to fathom how it is so, given how ghastly he was. Poor creature, she cannot sit still in her grief; she takes herself out for long walks each day, but seems to return in a worse state than she left. I am glad that you suggested the assembly, Jane, for it is just what Prunella needs—an opportunity to be reminded that she is still young and gay."
"There is nothing like dancing to lift one's spirits," Jane agreed, before casting a glance around the hall, "All looks in order.Thank you for your help, Sarah."
"Any time," Miss Hughes replied, with a smile.
Sarah took her leave and Jane followed suit, locking the door behind her and pocketing the key in her skirts. She would return it to Papa later, who was its custodian, despite never having set one foot inside the hall's door.
Outside, Jane found Plumpton busy with midweek activity. The villagers flitted between the grocer, the butcher, and the poulterer, their baskets filled with wares, while carts, gigs, and carriages trundled along the cobblestones. Across from the Parish Hall, on the village green, several groups of ladies stood beneath bare-branched trees, no doubt discussing the events of the meeting.
