In days gone past, the festival could become quite riotous, but the Ladies’ Auxiliary had taken over the planning after the previous rector’s wife passed away, and it had become far more decorous since then.
When Georgie realized her hands were clutching at the skirt of her muslin gown, she consciously relaxed them, only to have her fingers start drumming nervously on her legs.
It was her first meeting with the Ladies’ Auxiliary in her new position as Peter’s wife, and she could not have felt more exposed. Everything was prepared, with the tea tray already waiting, but knowing that did not alleviate her anxiety.
Mrs. Clarke patted her on the hand, stilling her nervous motions. “You mustn’t fret, my dear. I am here with you, and we have concocted a story that covers all, so everything will be fine.”
Georgie gave her a grateful, if tight, smile. “Yes, of course.”
A firm knock on the front door echoed through the hallway to the drawing room, and Georgie sprang to her feet, wringing her hands. “They’re here.”
“Remember the plan,” Mrs. Clarke said, and the door to the drawing room swung open to reveal three frowning members of the St. Alcuin’s Ladies’ Auxiliary. Mrs. Moxon was not among them.
Hastily, Georgie bobbed a curtsey to the group, which they icily returned.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” Mrs. Clarke said from beside her. “Please, come in and allow me to formally introduce Lord Peter’s new bride.”
Georgie feigned ignorance as she greeted Miss Welburn, Mrs. Dinsdale, and Mrs. Kilvington. Miss Welburn was a fussy spinster of indeterminate age whose dress had been turned at least twice. Mrs. Dinsdale remained aloof, clearly miffed that Lord Peter had married someone who was not her daughter. Georgie hoped the older woman would be able to get past her pique.
The one who made her the most nervous was Mrs. Kilvington, with her shrewd eyes and imperious manner. As the wife of the second-largest landowner in the county, she was clearly accustomed to being the social leader locally, and not best pleased to have the temporary rector’s wife outrank her.
“Shall we sit down?” Georgie said. She placed herself in the chair behind the tea tray as the other ladies arrayed themselves on the long settee. “I so look forward to getting to know all of you.”
After a long, silent moment, Miss Welburn said, “Your hair is so short, Lady Peter. Is that the fashion in Sussex now?”
Georgie successfully prevented her hand from shooting up to touch the cap that covered her shorn hair, and smiled instead.“I’m afraid it is a remainder of my recent illness, ma’am. My hair had to be cut during my fever and it has not yet grown back.”
The other ladies murmured sympathetically, but Mrs. Kilvington’s eyes only sharpened. “And that was the illness that delayed your wedding to Lord Peter?”
“Yes. Would you like tea?”
The other ladies nodded, and Georgie carefully added hot tea to each cup, hoping her hands would not shake. Mrs. Clarke broke into a cheery description of her latest embroidery project, but Georgie could still feel Mrs. Kilvington’s skeptical gaze on her.
“It is quite odd that Lord Peter did not mention he was betrothed when he took the position,” Mrs. Kilvington said abruptly. “Quite odd.”
“Not at all.” Georgie set the teapot down and met the older woman’s eyes with her chin up. “My life was despaired of at the time. Dear Peter did not want to mar his first weeks here with sad news if he could help it. Fortunately, I made a full recovery and we were able to have a quiet wedding after all.”
“And where did the wedding take place?”
Georgie smiled, knowing she was about to throw a bomb into the drawing room. “His grace the Archbishop of York was kind enough to allow us to be married in the chapel at Bishopthorpe.”
The other ladies murmured among themselves, but Mrs. Kilvington remained skeptical. “A romantic story indeed.”
“Mrs. Clarke can tell you all about it,” Georgie said airily. “She was one of our witnesses.”
The ladies exclaimed and turned to Mrs. Clarke, who related the story with relish, but Georgie could still feel Mrs. Kilvington’s eyes on her.
She must start the meeting before anyone could ask questions about where her “cousin” Mr. Morley had gone.
“Shall we begin the meeting, ladies? I look forward to hearing all of the plans that have been set so far.”
“Indeed, Lady Peter.” Mrs. Kilvington raked her with one more look, and then balanced her hands on top of her cane. “Let us commence.”
As Miss Welburn broke into a lively explanation of their plans for the booths to be set out on the village green, Georgie smiled and nodded and hoped she would be able to keep it all straight. She had a feeling the Harvest Festival would set the tone for her acceptance by the villagers and, perhaps more importantly, by the Ladies’ Auxiliary. If she could not learn to work with them, and they with her, her time in the village would be fraught. And lonely.
The menof the church board looked up as Peter entered the room, and he sighed inwardly as they rose to shake his hand and clap him on the back.
“Congratulations, Lord Peter.” A bluff, hearty man, Mr. Kilvington’s handshake nearly crushed Peter’s fingers. “M’wife says the rectory has needed a woman’s touch for many a year.”
