Chapter 13
Truth be told, Mae had completely forgotten about the summer fundraising picnic for the clinic until Roland had mentioned it on that heady walk to the morgue.
She supposed she had assumed, with all the trouble lately, that it would have to be skipped this year or at the very least postponed.
Yet, here she was, cradled in the cushioned embrace of an armchair in the parish house of Holy Comfort Church near Covent Garden while Rosalind Everly chattered excitedly about what kind of pie she wanted to make this year.
When Mae had mentioned her reservations and assumptions, Rosalind had scoffed and shaken her sandy curls with fervor.
“Matthew would never hear of it,” she said of her husband, the vicar.
“Canceling because of a clutch of bullies. Absolutely not. It is happening and it will be much better than last year.”
“You would have to make a concerted effort for it to be worse than last year,” Vix Aster had said, raising her dark brows. “You had a limp after that picnic for over a month.”
“But she got a husband too,” Hannah pointed out, smiling over her teacup. “Not a bad trade. The limp was temporary.”
“Hm,” said Rosalind thoughtfully, clicking her nail against her own teacup, “and Matthew certainly is not. Yes, I agree. Good trade. Oh! Speaking of which.”
And at that, she’d stood and vanished up the stairs, leaving them all staring after her flurry of ruffles and ribbons in anticipation until, a few moments later, she skipped back down, grinning, and held the silver thimble out to Vix.
Vix blinked a few times, not moving from her overly postured perch on the edge of a sofa cushion. “What are you doing?”
Rosalind frowned, looking down at the thimble as though it had lied to her and back up to Vix with her brow furrowed. “Well, I did my bit. Abe is working on the case now. So I thought I had to give it back.”
“No, you silly mink,” Vix said, clicking her tongue and shaking her head. “You must demand something from whomever you give it to. That is how it works. What would you ask of me?”
“Oh,” said Rosalind, blinking. “You could also bring a pie, I suppose?”
“Absolutely not,” Hannah said, cutting in and reaching forward to take Rosalind’s wrist before Vix could snatch the thimble on the pie demand. “Ask for something meaningful, Rosalind. That is the point of the game.”
Mae was watching this exchange with narrowed eyes. “Why hasn’t anyone given that to me?” she asked, so suddenly, it brought all three other heads around with surprise. “I didn’t even know what it was until Mr. Reed told me.”
“Oh,” Vix said, a wicked little grin curling at the corners of her lips. “Is he speaking to you now? Do tell us everything.”
“Vix, that isn’t what I asked,” Mae snapped.
“Oh, but is he?” Hannah put in, sounding altogether too breathless. “I thought perhaps the gunshot incident would do it, at long last.”
“What else has he said?” Rosalind pressed, closing her hand over the thimble and turning to Mae. “Has he wooed you?”
“The thimble!” Mae snapped, her cheeks flaming hot. “Why hasn’t anyone given it to me?!”
Vix gave a sigh, a roll of the eyes, and a click of the tongue. “Because you would misappropriate it, Casper. Obviously. You can’t be trusted with mischief.”
“Oh, I can’t, but sweet Rosalind can?!” Mae balked. “She wouldn’t prank the devil himself. She’d feel bad about it.”
Rosalind blinked a few times. “I likely would, at that. Chiel’s already been through quite a lot, hasn’t he?”
“I want it,” said Mae. “I could have many uses for it.”
“You could,” Vix said, considering Mae with a steely glint in her dark eyes. “But I suspect all the ideas you have involve passing the thimble to Roland, which we cannot do right now. He has vowed to chuck it into the Thames the instant it enters his custody.”
“Ah, not very sporting,” said Hannah with a little sigh. “He is a bit of a hypocrite, isn’t he?”
Vix tittered. “Oh. A bit.”
Mae raised her brows. “What does that mean?”
At this point, Rosalind evidently felt safe enough to scurry back to her place on the sofa, pushing back onto the cushions and taking her teacup back up with the thimble deposited daintily on the saucer whilst everyone was distracted.
Hannah snorted, shaking her head so that the copper color glinted in the afternoon light that came in through the parish house windows.
“He delighted in instigating when I was after Thaddeus. He told me once that if he continued to resist, he’d sneak me into the Vixen personally for a confrontation.
Actually, I think he didn’t say ‘resist,’ I think he said ‘continued to be a fool’ or ‘an idiot’ or something along those lines. ”
Vix laughed outright at that. “Oh, I’m very vexed that I missed all of that. Did he do it?”
Hannah chuckled. “No, he didn’t have to.
He caught us tangled up on the desk of the Fox very shortly thereafter.
But he was always being sneaky and saying inflammatory things.
At one point, Mr. Reed offered to walk me home when we were closing down the tented clinic, and Thaddeus replied that he would take the lady.
Roland turned back and answered, ‘Thoroughly, I presume,” as though I was not standing right there, able to hear it in full.
“In truth, it was very funny and I enjoyed it. But it does not change the hypocrisy.”
“The desk,” Mae repeated, blinking several times, as though Hannah’s words were grit and sand that had suddenly been tossed into her eyes. “A versatile piece of furniture.”
Hannah giggled, covering her mouth and turning her big blue eyes to Mae. “Yes. It is, rather. You see, this is why I said Dinah couldn’t come. We wouldn’t be able to have this talk if she were here.”
“You baby her,” Vix retorted, rolling her eyes. “What is the point? She’s more worldly than any of us were at that age.”
“She is much bluster. And in any event, the point is the attempt,” Hannah answered with a prim little sniff. “I’m certain Thaddeus tried the same with you.”
“Tried,” Vix repeated. “That is an apt word.”
Rosalind reached forward for the teapot, pouring herself another cup. She cut the tinkle of the liquid hitting porcelain with two lumps of sugar, and blinked up at Mae as though they were alone in the room. “Has he kissed you yet?”
“Rosalind!” Mae choked, her hand flying up to cover her throat, precisely where Roland’s hand had been when he’d done exactly that. “What a thing to say!”
It put a stopper in Vix and Hannah’s bicker, both of them turning curiously toward Mae.
“Oh, goodness,” said Hannah. “He has! Or you would have denied it outright.”
“That is pure conjecture,” Mae replied, sounding clogged in the throat even to herself.
“Oh, Christ,” Vix marveled. “He has, then! I didn’t think he was going to for another month at least.”
“How did it happen?” Rosalind asked, sipping at her refreshed tea with her pinky out. “Was it very romantic?”
“No!”
“No, it wasn’t romantic?” Rosalind asked, clicking the cup back onto the saucer. “Or no, you don’t want to tell me?”
“I’ve an idea,” Vix announced, looking positively energized by this development.
She was toying with one of her pearl earrings, her eyes fixed on the thimble sitting by Rosalind’s teacup.
“This round of the thimble game has had a caveat, you know. Anyone who accepts the thimble from me agrees as part of their dare that it comes back to me afterward. Mae, would you agree to that?”
“That sounds like you’re just doing whatever you like,” Mae replied, pulling a face. “I thought there were rules.”
“There are rules,” Vix tutted. “It’s a childhood game, not a bloody act of Parliament. Though I suppose I could make that happen if I butter Ambrose up enough.”
“Ooh!” said Rosalind.
“Ugh,” said Hannah, but she was still smiling. “I should never have given you a knight.”
“Probably not,” Vix agreed, tossing her sister-in-law an affectionate quirk of the lips. “But I thank you anyhow.”
“You don’t even have it yet,” Mae pointed out. “Rosalind still has to demand something from you.”
“We have been wanting that second chalkboard at the clinic,” Rosalind said dreamily, stirring her tea as she gazed out the window. “Perhaps even two more?”
“Yes, that’s it, Rosalind,” Mae said flatly. “Sell your soul for a chalkboard.”
“My soul?” Rosalind asked, turning back from the window to blink at Mae, frowning.
“I will reoutfit the entire classroom if necessary,” Vix said, clapping her hands together. “But Mae, you do understand that if you accept the thimble, you have to do the dare associated with its offer. Yes?”
“Oh, God,” Mae said, curling her lip and dumping the remainder of her own cold tea into her mouth. “What are you going to ask? You want me to throw myself at him in the central room of the clinic while you watch?”
“Gracious, no,” Vix said with a little flash of her teeth. “That is far too immediate and straightforward. This is meant to be entertaining, Mae.”
“Entertaining, is it?” Mae said, returning the show of teeth to Vix. “And once I have the thing, I can compel you to do humiliating nonsense? Is that the whole of it?”
“You can certainly try,” Vix replied with amusement. “I actually look forward to hearing what you come up with, but only after you complete your own dare.”
“Well, then you can’t give the thimble to Mae today anyhow,” Rosalind pointed out. “Because I won’t have my chalkboards for another day or two.”
“We could agree,” Hannah reasoned, reaching forward to refresh her own tea, “that in this instance, between us four, we honor a clause of escrow.”
“Hm,” said Vix, tilting her head to the side, that giant bloody pearl earring catching the sunlight with a flash. “I am amenable to that, so long as the men never hear of it.”
“Agreed,” said Rosalind, sounding barely invested in the matter. “I shan’t tell.”
“Nor I,” said Hannah, arranging her cream and sugar.
They paused, looking to Mae, who scoffed in irritation. “I’m not married,” she reminded them. “Or related to any of the men. Obviously I’m not going to betray this circle of trust.”
“Then it is settled,” said Vix, grinning and turning to Rosalind with her hand out. “Two chalkboards and assorted classroom sundry?”
“Oh. Yes,” said Rosalind, licking the remains of a sugar cube off her thumb as she held the saucer out for Vix to pluck up the thimble. “Surprise me. I trust your judgement.”
“Folly,” Mae muttered, making Vix grin wider.
Vix twirled the thimble between her fingers, considering Mae. “You may have it,” she said, looking utterly pleased with herself, “if you tell us a full, thorough, unabridged accounting of all that has transpired between yourself and Roland Reed. From the beginning.”
“The beginning? Of what?” Mae retorted, almost coming out of her chair in annoyance. “The summer?”
“Your acquaintance,” Vix corrected, waving the thimble back and forth. “All of it. In copious detail. Do you want the thimble or not?”
Mae glared, looking at its shining domed top in consideration.
“And there is no expiry to this demand,” Vix continued. “You shall continue to report on the matter until such a time as there is an override of confidence. Say, matrimonial vows or something equally official.”
“Vix,” Hannah chided, clearly struggling to stifle her own amusement.
Mae pushed herself fully from the chair at that point and marched across the room to snatch the thimble from Vix’s smug hand.
“Fine,” she snapped. “I hope you all enjoy a tale of amputation with your biscuits. Settle in.”
Rosalind immediately snapped to attention, curling her legs under her skirt and straightening her shoulders as she folded her hands in her lap, ready and willing to be told a story.
Hannah raised her brows and, perhaps anticipating the particulars of the story, went ahead and finished her raspberry-jam-smeared biscuit.
Vix just continued to grin, awaiting the delivery of her demand.
Mae sighed. She sighed and she gave it.