“After the verdict.”
“There are times when you have more hair than wits. Give her a few days or even a week then ask her again. She’ll change her mind.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you will work on her. You will show your handsome face and jabber on about the importance of building fine minds or whatever it is you say that convinced all of us to support you, and she’ll agree to hold the lecture.”
“My face has never convinced anyone to do anything.”
“Only because you are afraid of using it. You could have a harem of women with your looks. And then you wouldn’t have to settle for Clarissa Taylor. I swear, the biggest mystery is why God gives gifts to people like you who won’t use them.”
“You don’t have trouble with women.”
“Because I use the gifts I’m given.” Mars walked Bruno out of the stable. “Truly, Ned, I know what the lecture means to you. Wait a bit. Ask again. Everything will work out as it should.”
“Another difference between us—I’m not an optimist.”
Mars laughed on that one. “Let her cool off,” he advised. “If it comes to the worst, we hold the lecture at the Posting Inn.”
“We won’t be able to.”
“Why not?”
“First, it is too busy a place for concentration and serious discussion. Second, Winderton, Dawson, and the lot of them are heading there to drink. They will ruin any goodwill we have with Peavine.” Peavine was the proprietor of the Posting Inn.
“Fools.”
Ned nodded his agreement. He watched his friend mount before saying, “She’s changed us. This woman is changing the village.”
“Perhaps it is time to change.” Mars picked up the reins. “For all of us. And thank you for fetching me. I lost myself a bit this time in London. I needed someone to make me return.” On those words he rode off.
That night Gemma slept better than she had for ages.
The Garland washers.
After sherry at Mrs. Warbler’s, she and Mr. Fitzsimmons had returned to work. He was actually a rather nice young man who was easily influenced. He was also sincere in his regrets and was willing to do what she asked as atonement. Most of her garden beds had now been turned and were ready for planting, her favorite task. Her new friends had seen that she had all the seeds and plantings she would wish.
She’d not had Mr. Thurlowe’s predicted headache so she hadn’t finished the brandy in the flask. She did so before she went to bed because she was certain after all the hard labor of gardening, she would wake with a few muscle aches.
Of course, and perhaps since she was not accustomed to spirits, the drink seemed to have given her strange dreams.
She dreamed of chickens. Thousands of chickens. She could hear them clucking. They were off in the distance and she wasn’t quite certain whatshewas doing or what was happening... until a rooster crowed, and she realized, shewasn’tdreaming. But waking at her customary early hour.
Gemma sat up and wiped the sleep from her eyes—and then shedidhear chickens.
Jumping from the bed, she opened the door and found in the kitchen she had cleaned the night before... chickens. Red hens, black ones, brown ones roosted on the table and chairs. There weren’t thousands but there were enough to make a mess of the place. They clucked and ruffled feathers and one pooped right there in front of her. The bird just put her chicken tail over the edge of the table and did her business. It landed with a plop on the brick floor.
At the sight of her, their clucking paused and then they took up again.
A very beleaguered Athena, the gray mouser Mrs. Smethers had given her in gratitude for the foot soak, had been hiding under the cupboard.She now raced to the open bedroom door for shelter even as one of the hens tried to peck at her.
A rooster called from the main room.
Still in a state of disbelief, Gemma gingerly walked to avoid droppings through the taproom and almost collapsed in shock. There had to be a dozen, maybe more, hens on tables or chairs, while the rooster stood proudly on the back of a chair and crowed his “good morning” to her.
Dear Lord, the floor was a mess with feathers and droppings. All her cleaning had been for naught.
And she knew who to blame.
