“Don’t you worry over that now.” Mrs. Warbler took Gemma’s arm and drew her to her feet to guide her toward the bedroom. “In fact, you appear exhausted, child. Why don’t you take a rest and leave all of this to me. Jane changed the sheets. The bed should be comfortable.”
Gemma attempted to turn. “I can’t. I can’t rest when there is so much to do.”
“You can,” Mrs. Warbler’s soothing voice said. “See, the sheets are clean. Doesn’t the bed look inviting? Have a little rest.”
She was right. The bed now appeared an oasis. Gemma didn’t need help to practically fall into it. The sheets smelled of lavender. Mrs. Warbler was a good housekeeper. It would be lovely to take a rest. Her eyes grew heavy. “There is so much to be done.”
“And we’ll help you,” came the comforting answer. “You have friends now.”
Yes, friends. Mrs. Warbler and Miss Taylor hadbeen all that was kind to her. They had done for her what she would have offered if she had been in their places.
Friends.Such a lovely word.
“And our friends will help with The Garland,” Mrs. Warbler cooed as if knowing she had won. “The matrons have been looking for a new project and this is a most excellent one.”
Gemma wasn’t certain what she meant, but she was truly too tired to care, even as she listened to the excited buzz of female plotting.
Mrs. Warbler was giving instructions. She mentioned names and ordered Jane and Miss Taylor to “spread the word. Have them come now with buckets and mops and rags.”
Gemma smiled. She could imagine Mrs. Warbler commanding a force of soldiers, or better yet, fairies to scrub from top to bottom. She was having a dream, she surmised. A vision of her tea garden coming to life...
Chapter Six
“Our conscience... ourconsciences... ourconsciences,” the Reverend Summerall repeated, testing the words. He paced the length of a small clearing in a wood not far from St. Martyr’s. He read from a handwritten paper while gesturing grandly with his free hand. His booming voice filled the air.
Ned had assumed he would find the good reverend in the sanctuary practicing his Sunday sermon. He had not. After he caught Mrs. Summerall in the parsonage, she had directed him here. “Just follow the sound of his voice,” she had advised, and so he had.
Summerall was so deep into weighing the different inflections, he didn’t realize Ned was there, even after Ned had politely cleared his voice several times.
Finally, Ned spoke up. “Reverend? Reverend?Summerall.”
The cleric started at the sound, and then chuckled good-naturedly as he recognized Ned. “Mr. Thurlowe, how fortuitous you are here. Which tonal quality did you think sounded best?”
“Best for what?”
“To make you uneasy. To prick that of which I speak.”
“Our consciences?”
“Yes.”
“You want the congregants to feel uneasy?”
“Absolutely. My role in Maidenshop is to make the villagers think long and hard about their choices. Of course, that is what I wish them to do every week. You can see how effective I am.”
“More of us have devils whispering in our ear rather than angels. Or your voice,” Ned observed.
That sparked a bark of laughter from Summerall, and then his manner changed to one of excitement. “Whyam I going on this way? You’ve come to discuss the details of your nuptials with Miss Taylor, haven’t you?” He put his papers in his pocket and rubbed his hands with anticipation. “This will be a fine wedding. Everyone is ready for it.” He chuckled before adding, “Past ready.”
Almost churlishly, Ned said, “How has everyone heard the news already? It really isn’t even decided.”
The Reverend Summerall’s manner grew stern. “Not decided? Sir, you have held this woman’s promise to you for two years. It is pastdeciding.Besides, I understand you set a date. The day following your lecture, correct?”
Ned stood in awkward silence. He didn’t even understand himself why he wanted to deny it. He was going to marry Clarissa. He had made a commitment.
Then he remembered discussing his marriage was not his purpose here. Without preamble, he said, “There is a woman at The Garland who says she is a relative of Old Andy. She claims he left the tavern to her.”
The minister’s reaction was not what Ned had hoped. “Mrs. Estep? She is here?”
