Chapter 10
The church bells rang bright and unrestrained, their peals tumbling across the rooftops and carrying far beyond the village boundary.
The joyous sound echoed through the clear spring sky as the congregation poured from the church doors in a cheerful press of voices and color, the sun glinting off the gilt edges of prayer books hastily tucked beneath arms.
Moving to a clear patch of the churchyard, the curate settled in to bless the tools for the forthcoming planting and harvest, and the farmers and laborers lined up with their ploughs, spades, and scythes along the edge of the green, the metal and wood polished to a humble shine.
The clergyman moved among them with measured steps, his voice rising over the murmur of the crowd as he prayed for fruitful fields, gentle weather, and steady hands in the work to come.
When the final blessing was spoken, a cheer broke out as the bells renewed their joyful song.
The festivities couldn’t be contained solely within the churchyard itself, and the revelers made good use of the adjacent village green, setting up long tables across the grass with strings of bunting flapping in the breeze.
Beneath the spreading elms, a fiddler struck up a tune, his bow keeping lively time while the air filled with the lingering scent of spring rain, sweet herbs, and roasting joints, whilst the village pulsed with life and light.
“Haverford certainly adores celebrations,” said Mina, standing beside Thea as they watched the revelries begin in earnest. “I arrived only a few weeks ago, and yet, we’ve had the Spring Market, May Day, and now, a parish feast.”
“Do they not celebrate such things in Lowden?” asked Thea with raised brows.
“I suppose we do, though I am rarely able to attend them all,” she said, as a group of men gathered about the Maypole, which had remained standing at the edge of the green after the previous celebration.
Stripped of its ribbons and flowers, the men now smeared the wood with lard, laughing as one slipped and nearly lost hold of the bucket.
“That is the joy of a smaller town,” said Thea, threading her arm through her cousin’s as the prize was tied to the top, waiting to be claimed by anyone foolish enough to attempt the climb.
The parish feast had long outlived most of its spiritual meaning and ties to their local patron saint, but the villagers still found ample reason to bake, sing, and make merry.
And though having this many celebrations so close to one another was a bit overdone, the crowd thrummed with pleasure and reveled in any reason to be out in the spring air, in the company of their neighbors.
There was such life in every breath that one couldn’t help but embrace it all.
The harvest would arrive soon enough, leaving the villagers too busy to do anything else, and then winter would settle in, trapping them inside their houses.
Soon, grace was spoken, and the villagers tucked into the sumptuous feast. The tables stretched the length of the green, a patchwork of rough boards and borrowed benches that had seen better days.
Platters of roasted beef and mutton steamed beside great loaves of bread, their crusts crackling and golden; there were wheels of cheese wrapped in muslin, fresh-churned butter set out in neat curls, and pies so fragrant that the scent alone could make one’s mouth water.
There were no gleaming silver dishes, no footmen gliding silently between guests, no orchestras to fill the pauses in conversation.
But that did not diminish it in Thea’s eyes.
She had sat at grand tables before, had eaten delicacies that would make these villagers gape, yet those fine dishes had never filled her quite like this.
The laughter here was louder. The cheer freer.
No one worried about posture or precedence.
Here, there was something honest about every bite, as if each dish carried the warmth of the hands that had prepared it.
It was a feast of belonging and brotherhood, and there were no better flavors in the world.
But once more, Thea found herself glancing at Mina.
Though she knew her cousin wasn’t so high-minded as to turn her nose up at their humble offerings, too many of their class merely deigned to attend, rather than relishing it.
And when she studied Mina’s expression, she spied the same appreciative glow, and Thea held her friend’s arm tighter.
Across the swell of the crowd, a familiar figure caught her eye.
Frederick stood a little apart, speaking with a group of farmers near the edge of the green, the sunlight catching in his fair hair, and her heart lifted at the sight of him—until she noticed the bright red bloom pinned neatly to his lapel, the vivid color standing out against the dark color of his coat.
Her breath caught. No ribbon. Just the single rose.
Mina followed her gaze, brow furrowing. “What is the matter?”
Thea shook her head as her throat tightened.
“It is nothing. Only…” She forced a small smile that wavered.
“It is a little custom. On our feast day, the ladies send a ribbon or rosette to their sweetheart, and he wears it and a spring flower upon his lapel. At some point during the festivities, he returns the favor by bestowing the flower upon the lady. It’s rather a harmless thing. Just a bit of village silliness.”
Mina’s eyes flicked back to Frederick. “And he isn’t wearing yours.”
“No.” The word was soft, nearly swallowed up by the hum of conversation and clatter of plates. She tried to laugh it off, but her heart gave a traitorous twist.
“Think nothing of it,” said Mina, straightening as her gaze focused on Thea.
“I may have met your Mr. Voss a mere six weeks ago, but it is clear both from his behavior and your description of him that he is a touch…” Mina paused, considering her words, though Thea’s mind was quick to supply the descriptor the lady danced around. “…forgetful.”
Thea gave a humorless chuckle. “That is the truth. I love the man dearly, but I fear he would forget his head if it weren’t attached to his neck.”
Nodding, Mina’s expression brightened. “Precisely. And he has had much on his mind of late, hasn’t he?”
That was unequivocally true, though Thea couldn’t say what those troubles were, and her patience was wearing thin as she waited for him to share them. One way or another, she would uncover those secrets. Soon. But in the meantime, she supposed that preoccupation was excuse enough for the oversight.
“No doubt someone pinned the flower on him,” added Thea with the slightest hint of a wry smile. “Knowing him, he walked out of the house without a second thought, and one of our neighbors forced it upon him when he arrived.”
“I would wager so,” said Mina, patting her arm. “Do not fret. It wasn’t a slight.”
“You’re right. Of course, you are.” And for all that the words felt hollow, Thea held fast to them.
After all, it wasn’t as though Frederick meant to offend or cast her off. The notion was absurd. Whatever troubled him, it had naught to do with their courtship. They were happy. Solid. Certain.
Thea drew a quiet breath, letting the sounds of laughter and the clinking of tankards wash over her until the tightness in her chest eased.
Once the strain of his responsibilities lifted, Frederick would return to his usual good humor and speak to her.
He always did. He needed time to order his thoughts before he could share them. She could give him that.
“There you are.”
The voice startled Thea; it sounded so like the gentleman she’d been watching that her mind couldn’t comprehend how she heard it whilst he stood on the opposite side of the gathering. Turning, she spied Mr. Timothy Voss at her elbow, an easy grin in place as he swept into a bow.
“My lady,” he said with overdone gravitas.
And something skittered down her spine. Though Thea was quite familiar with Frederick’s antics and misdirections, there was a hardness that lurked beneath his brother’s playacting that always set her teeth on edge.
It wasn’t as though he were a bad man, so there was no need to keep him at arm’s length.
It wasn’t as though Thea disliked him. She didn’t care for him, but that didn’t mean she didn’t not care for him. That double negative made her head ache. As it usually did when she tried to discern her feelings toward the gentleman.
But Thea put her confusion aside and greeted him with a nod of the head. “Mr. Voss. It is good to see you.”
“And I, you,” he said as he straightened. “But pleasantries aside, I came here to beg a favor.”
Ah, there it was.
Watching him carefully, Thea asked, “And what is it?”
“Would you please do me the great honor of introducing me to this enchanting creature?” he said, turning toward Mina. “I heard your delightful cousin was gracing us with her presence but haven’t had the good fortune to meet her yet.”
Both ladies stiffened and stared at the gentleman, and when Mina sent her a confused twist of her brows, Thea could only blink back at the lady.
Not that she thought it odd that someone would wish to make Mina’s acquaintance, but those overdone manners had her wishing she could avoid giving the introduction.
“Miss Ashbrook, may I introduce Mr. Timothy Voss,” said Thea, motioning between them. “He is the younger brother of Mr. Frederick Voss. Though he returned home to be with his family during this difficult time, he resides in Leeds, where he is studying the law.”
Mina curtsied, and the gentleman swept into another low bow, though he glanced up at her whilst still bent over, those bright eyes of his sparkling as he gazed at the lady. Straightening once more, his smile was firmly fixed in place.
“I was hoping you would grace me with your company,” he said, motioning toward the feast.
A spark of surprise flashed in her eyes, and Mina turned her gaze to her cousin with a silent question that Thea couldn’t answer.
Was Mr. Timothy serious in his attention?
And even if he were, was it a good thing?
That she hesitated told her plainly enough how little she trusted his intentions, yet Mina was so rarely pursued in any fashion that a little flirtation might do her some good.
Giving a faint nod, Thea prodded Mina forward, and the lady did so—though she looked at the gentleman as though he were a particularly odd specimen of wildlife.
Mr. Timothy offered her his arm, and though Mina didn’t take it, she allowed herself to be led toward the tables as the gentleman asked about her visit, her home, and her family.
Though Mina spoke one word to Mr. Timothy’s twenty, she was speaking, and that must be a good thing. It was good practice, at the very least. Every young lady ought to enjoy the attentions of silly swains from time to time, and Mina’s experience was seriously lacking.
Why did gentlemen ignore the dear creature?
How could they not see her value? There was such life in her features.
So much heart. When she smiled, Mina did so with her whole soul.
Her sweetness shone like a beacon, and her loyalty was as strong as iron.
One couldn’t ask for a better friend and confidant.
Thea’s stomach gurgled, and she glanced at the tables, laden with so much food that they looked ready to crumple beneath the weight.
Ought she to eat alone? Surely, Frederick wished to join her.
He always did. Yet she spied him across the green, deep in conversation with yet another gentleman, seemingly unaware that there was food aplenty and his sweetheart yearned to eat.
Being quite capable of managing on her own, Thea knew she simply ought to do as she pleased—and the thought of eating pleased her very much—yet sharing it with Frederick pleased her even more—
Thea straightened as she spied poor Mrs. Brinn struggling with a babe on her hip and a tin plate in her hand as she tried to herd three other little ones.
Though others around her saw the difficulty, they had their own children and plates to balance and were unable to offer the widow any assistance.
Moving without thinking, Thea hurried over with outstretched hands.