Beauty and the Blacksmith (Spindle Cove #3.5)(5)

Kate Taylor had been the village music tutor until last summer, when she’d married Corporal Thorne—now Captain Thorne—and moved away to follow his rising career. Though everyone in Spindle Cove was happy for them, Kate’s lively spirit and melodies were sorely missed.

“There’s a packet of handwritten booklets,” Charlotte said, sorting the contents. “And a letter. I suppose I should read it first.”

“Aloud, if you will,” said Sally.

All the ladies gathered close.

Charlotte’s eyes widened as she scanned the page. “She sends us all greetings from Ambervale.”

This news was met with a general murmur of excitement.

Ambervale was the estate of the eccentric Gramercy family, headed by the Marquess of Drewe. Kate was the Gramercys’ cousin by some tenuous, and rather scandalous, connection. Nevertheless, they’d welcomed her to the fold . . . and now into their house, which was situated just a few hours away.

“I hope this means she’s coming to visit,” Diana said.

“Even better,” said Charlotte. “Lord Drewe is inviting us to visit them. All of us.”

“A ball!” Mama cried. “Oh, I knew it. I knew Lord Drewe would want another chance at you, Diana.”

“Mama, I’m sure this means nothing of the sort.”

“Of course it does! Such a handsome, elegant man. The two of you made a striking couple. Everyone could see it.”

Not again. When the Gramercys had been in Spindle Cove last summer, Mama had made the most embarrassing remarks to poor Lord Drewe, always angling for a match between him and Diana.

Charlotte gave them all a superior look. “Shall I read the letter, or would you prefer to spend the evening guessing at its contents?”

Mama closed her mouth and sat quietly.

“She writes, ‘Captain Thorne and I are guests at Ambervale for the month. Thus far, it has rained every day. I can only imagine that you are enduring the same tiresome weather in Spindle Cove. My dear cousins, Lady Harriet and Lady Lark, have concocted the enclosed scheme.’ ”

“A scheme?” Mama echoed. “What sort of invitation is this?”

“ ‘Since Lord Drewe decided dancing and cards would be poor form during Lent, the ladies devised a theatrical.’ ”

Miss Bertram perked with interest. “Mr. Evermoore is very fond of the theater.”

Charlotte read on, summarizing for the group. “It’s a command performance, and we are the players. On Thursday next, Lord Drewe will send his carriages to convey the Spindle Cove ladies to Ambervale. We must arrive prepared to present the enclosed play, which Lady Harriet believes will have unique devotional meaning for the season.”

Diana reached for one of the booklets, reading the title aloud. “ ’Doomed by Virtue: The life and death of St. Ursula.’ ”

Mama clucked her tongue. “That Lady Harriet is very strange.”

“She’s brilliant,” Charlotte said. “What other play is going to have a dozen female parts? All those handmaidens. And no one can complain that such an amusement is improper. Our cathedral is named for St. Ursula, after all.”

“You’ll need to be busy with costumes and such,” Sally said, happy at the prospect of imminent sales. “I’ll open the shop early tomorrow.”

The mood in the room brightened as copies of the play were passed around and plans for rehearsals, costumes, and props volleyed back and forth.

Diana had to agree with her sister. Lady Harriet was brilliant. This was what they all needed—a source of excitement for the coming week, and an outing to look forward to. A diversion. Perhaps it would take her mind off Mr. Dawes.

“Of course, Diana must be Ursula.”

Diana startled. “Why must I be Ursula?” She had been hoping for the most minor of the handmaiden roles.

Sally lifted one shoulder in an isn’t-it-obvious shrug. “Pure. Beautiful. Saintly. That’s you, Miss Highwood, isn’t it?”

No, Diana wanted to object. No, it isn’t. You’re looking at a woman who ogled a man’s brawny forearms this afternoon. And ran from his kiss out of cowardice, not virtue.

For the first time since the announcement of this theatrical scheme, her mother showed genuine enthusiasm. “Yes, Diana must be Ursula. With Lord Drewe playing the role of her bridegroom. It’s perfect.”

Diana pinched the bridge of her nose. “Mama, you do understand how this story ends? How Ursula achieved her sainthood? She is beheaded by Huns and dies a virgin.”

“True.” Charlotte leafed through the play. “But then, so do her handmaidens. They all die virgins.”

“There, see? At least you’ll be the leading virgin,” Mama said. “And you’ll have the best costume. A bridal costume. That will set Drewe’s mind turning.”

“I tell you, it won’t.” In an attempt to end the conversation, Diana renewed her search for her thimble. Where could it have gone?

With a smug harrumph, Mama propped her feet on a low stool and settled her petticoats. “You are meant to be a nobleman’s wife, Diana. I have always known it. My intuition—”

“Forgive me, but your intuition must be flawed,” Diana replied, peering under a chair. “You’ve been predicting my lofty match for years. During that time, no fewer than three unmarried noblemen have resided in this village. None of them expressed the slightest desire to wed me.”