The afternoon flew by, offering not a moment Adam could spend alone with Cassie. He watched her rehearse the children for their Epiphany pageant in the assembly room at the inn, marveling at her patient instruction as well as the energy of the irrepressible children.
The Whitlatch twins along with the oldest of the Burdis boys had been cast as the three magi, simply because they were the oldest and tallest. Sammy Salsby was to play Joseph while his brother Will was to play the leader of a ragtag group of shepherds. As far as Adam could tell, every boy in the village who did not have some other role was included in this expandable tribe.
The chorus of angels served the same purpose for the girls–he noted both Elizabeth and Mary Salsby in this group along with Little Kate Burdis, who could not have looked more perfect for such a role. Becky Salsby was to play Mary but she was late, finishing up chores in the kitchen.
All of the children were wearing costumes for this final rehearsal, which caused no end of complications. Their cries of “Miss Tamworth, my robe is too long” and “Miss Tamworth, my tunic is caught on Charlie’s belt” (or on inside out, or too short, or seemingly a million other things) would have eventually driven Adam to distraction, but Cassie appeared unperturbed by any of it, calmly soothing her young performers and reassuring them that all would be well.
He wished he could hear such reassurance from her for his own doubts. She seemed to have softened towards him–indeed he thought they had reached a new accord. Was he wrong? He had seen Mr. Pratt with Cassie at the time of his Lord of Misrule announcements. What was the curate doing? And what had Cassie said to him?
Adam had proposed some forfeits for Mr. Pratt but predictably, the man had ignored them, just as he had ignored all of the scheduled activities. Adam had only one recourse, but he could not put it into play until tomorrow.
Cassie was too occupied with the children to be able to talk with Adam. He dutifully tried to stay out of the way, but his presence at the rehearsal made the children more excitable than usual. Eventually he took pity on her and left her to her work. He had work of his own–lists of forfeits and names of villagers to review before the four o’clock assembly. He would never have guessed how much organization and preparation time was required to play his role of Lord of Misrule.
The assembly room was empty when Adam went back down from his room a half-hour before his event. A quick stab of disappointment ran through him because Cassie was no longer there, even though he understood the reason for her absence. All the pageant costumes and props had to be put away because he had scheduled an extra assembly in the space. He had caused more work for her.
A group of villagers arrived early and he put them to work arranging chairs. More chairs needed to be brought in from the taproom. Not everyone would be able to sit, but he wanted to make certain the elderly and the women at least would find seats. He wondered how the main Twelfth Night celebration tomorrow evening would be arranged.
“That is a brilliant idea to make semi-circular rows facing the center. Everyone should be able to see.” Cassie appeared beside him and the whole room seemed to lighten. Or perhaps it was just his heart.
He reached down to lace his fingers with hers. “You were brilliant with the children. I am so impressed with the way you work with them. You are a gifted teacher.”
He glanced at her face, knowing he would see the telltale flush of color coming into her cheeks. He loved her blushes. He loved her. What would he do if she wouldn’t marry him?
“Children know if someone doesn’t genuinely enjoy being with them,” she said. “I do, and they respond to that enthusiasm.”
He smiled bravely, shutting away his fear. “You make it sound so simple. You are always modest.”
“You do well with the children, also. They adore you.”
How much he would give to hear her say that she did, too! Maybe one day.
“They are adorable. That does help.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze and released it as a steady stream of villagers wearing silly hats began to enter the room.
Adam was too busy after that to be able to converse with Cassie. The assembly went well enough. Nearly everyone had made an attempt at a silly hat, so he had few forfeits to add to his already extensive list. After parading them by sections through the center of the room, he moved on to the presentation of forfeits.
He had tied many of those to the old song about the twelve days of Christmas, so he went in order, first calling Mrs. Fullerton, the sexton’s wife, to present her version of a partridge in a pear tree. The assembly waited while the good lady went down to the kitchen, applauding when she returned bearing a tray with a roasted chicken surrounded by pears and decorated with leafy sprigs of boxwood.
The second forfeit earned plenty of laughter. Mr. Hicklin, one of the local farmers, presented two of his chickens in a crate. As they clucked and squawked, he turned to Adam. “They are saying ‘bon jour, monsieur’. Voilà, two French hens!” He stood a little straighter and added, “I had to learn those French words just for this!” Then finally, a little humbly, he asked, “Am I allowed to take them back?” which occasioned more laughter. Adam assured the man that he could.
The rest of the forfeits he had assigned for the assembly were equally inventive and entertaining. It was dark when everyone headed home, so those who had thought to bring lanterns shared them with those who had not. Adam caught up to Cassie and her father as they prepared to leave.
“May I walk you home? I haven’t a lantern but I trust Mr. Salsby would loan me one.”
“There’s no need,” Reverend Tamworth replied curtly. Cassie nudged him, inspiring an amendment. “No need for a lantern, that is. I left one waiting in the corner of the taproom.”
“Perhaps Lord Forthhurst–Adam–could join us for dinner, Papa? That would make his walk up the hill with us more worthwhile.”
Adam was grateful enough just to have a few minutes of time with her, but dinner would extend the privilege.
“Mr. Pratt is not dining with us, is he?” she added.
“He will not be there.” her father answered. “I believe Mrs. Gulliver could add an extra guest.”
While not exactly effusive, the welcome had improved compared to when he’d first arrived in the village. The difference fed Adam’s hope.
Once they had collected the lantern and started walking, he offered Cassie his arm. “Speaking of Mr. Pratt,” he said as they turned onto Church Street, “I saw him speaking with you this morning as I prepared my announcements. You looked distressed.”
She chewed her lip, as if weighing what to tell him.
“I am not a jealous sort, but it matters to me if he was upsetting you,” he prompted.
“Promise me that you will not do or say anything? I don’t wish to make you upset.”
“How can I promise without knowing what the man has done?”
“It was nothing, really. He just was behaving peculiarly, and then when I told him you and I are courting, he told me I was delusional.” Her voice rose. “I told him to confirm it with you, father, if he didn’t believe me.”
Adam could feel his blood rising. “In what way was he behaving peculiarly? As if not accepting your word and insulting you is not quite enough already.” His voice sounded more like a growl.
Cassie stopped walking and turned to put her hand on his chest. “You see? I was afraid you would be upset.”
“Cassie, I would also like to know if he did anything more than that,” her father said. “That sounds most unlike him. But he is my curate, so I need to know how he behaves.”
She sighed. “He set my hand on the inside of his elbow, but then he pulled his arm so tight against his side that I could neither remove my hand or step away. It was a small thing, but a little alarming, especially coming from him.”
“That is not a small thing,” Adam ground out between clenched teeth.
“It is all right. He released me as soon as Sally and Tom Hepston came over to speak with me.”
“Which only proves he knew very well it was unacceptable to restrain you against your wishes.” Adam’s ire was fully raised now. “He deserves a thrashing.”
“Whether he deserves one or not, please do not give him one. Promise me?”
He nodded. “He will get something, but I promise it will not be that.”
Light snow had begun falling by the time dinner was over. Adam returned to the inn to consult with Mr. Salsby and others who had offered to help with the bonfire. A sufficient pile of brands and kindling had been collected, so they decided to go ahead with the fire despite the snow. In some locales, a bonfire was traditional on Twelfth Night to dispose of Christmas greenery, but that was not the practice in Little Macclow.
“What do people do with their greens, then?” Adam asked Cassie as they watched the snapping fire together a short time later. He felt utterly content, just sitting with Cassie beside him.
Chairs from the neighboring houses facing the village green had appeared spontaneously, inspiring a crew of men to bring more out of the inn. People variously stood or sat, the golden firelight dancing across their faces. Adam had set two chairs side by side for himself and Cassie, judging that his duties as Lord of Misrule were complete for the night.
“The pine branches and ivy are used in the fields and gardens, as mulch or as shelter,” she said. “The holly and mistletoe go into the fireplaces, so there’s no risk of animals eating them.”
She nudged his shoulder with hers, a surprisingly familiar gesture that filled him with delight. “You are not in the least a country boy, are you? How will you ever manage your estates?”
He smiled and reached for her hand. “I will hire good land stewards. That, and I hope to marry a very smart woman.”
When she laughed, he added, “’Tis also possible I could learn a few things.”
That led them to discuss some practical matters, such as how many estates his family owned, where he thought he would like to live and how much of his time he still wanted to spend in London.
“You have never been to London, have you, Cassie?”
“No, never. The biggest city I have ever visited is Derby.”
“I think London people might try your patience, but you would love all of the sights and activities–the theaters, the British Museum, Astley’s, the concerts. I would feel privileged to show it all to you.”
“I have never dreamed of going there, but it does sound exciting.”
“My sister Emma cannot wait to go, and not just because of the parties and balls associated with the social season. I am not certain the city is quite ready for Emma. Or you, for that matter, Cassie. Your charm could quite take the city by storm.”
She looked rather pleased at that idea. He was already imagining it, presenting her as his beautiful wife, and then realized that people who knew him in London would be shocked by his sudden marriage. It reminded him that he and Cassie still had not discussed his Town scandals and reputation. Sitting with her here, surrounded by villagers in the glow of the bonfire, the fire warming them and the few snowflakes tickling their faces, he found it all too easy to put his troubles out of mind.
The moment was so pleasant, he was loath to give it up. But their courtship could not move forward if they did not talk about the things that mattered most.
“This is pleasant, but will you walk with me?” He knew the request would surprise her. “Some conversation requires greater privacy than we have here.”
“All right.” She glanced at him, her eyes full of questions but also, he thought, a small degree of trust.
Surely he was making progress.
He picked up their lantern and offered her his other arm. The pure pleasure he felt just from walking with her that way was absurd by any measure he knew of.
He led her away from the gathering by the green, strolling along the main street of the village. The lamp-glow from windows cast squares of light along the snowy path of footprints they followed, supplementing the moving circle of light from the lantern.
“We’ve not had opportunity to revisit the subject of my scandals,” he said, watching her face to see her reaction. “Especially if we are to consider marrying, you need to know all of it.”
“I admit I am curious.”
He didn’t smile, even though she did. “If you become my wife, people will be eager to share the gossip of my misdeeds with you. Some will wish to test the strength of our bond and your faith in me, others may hope to destroy whatever we have by stirring up trouble.”
“You are saying I need to know in order to be prepared for that, if we wed. I understand.”
He nodded. “I have had a tendency to challenge my friends to take on unusual activities. You might hear tales of outrageous bets, dares, the occasional fight.”
“What sort of bets or dares?”
“You may hear it rumored that I dared my friends to hire watermen and shoot the tidal rapids through London Bridge, for no reason beyond the thrill of it.” He frowned. “That one is true, although we did not make it a wager. Too dangerous. And a boatman almost lost his boat.”
He glanced up at the snow falling on them softly. Was it coming down a little faster now than before? Some of the crystals caught in the light of the inn’s door lamps, sparkling as if enchanted. The road became darker past the inn, so he turned and started back the way they had come.
“Another rumor says I dared my friends to climb the statue of King Charles that stands in Charing Cross, but that statue is impossibly high and protected by iron pickets.” He chuckled softly. “’Twas another statue altogether, I assure you.”
“Why in heaven’s name would you climb a statue?”
He gave her an innocent look. “Because it is there? Because doing so is frowned upon? Or perhaps also because we had a lady’s unmentionables we intended to install upon it. Unfortunately, a watchman heard our noise and came to investigate.”
“That still seems relatively harmless.”
“My friend Brecksford would not agree. In the ensuing scramble to depart, he fell and broke his arm.”
He sobered again. “I dared my friends to try sledding in Hyde Park. We underestimated our reach and frightened a number of carriage horses, which of course meant frightened occupants of the carriages they were pulling. The Duke of Hollingston and his wife, in particular, did not appreciate our exploit, although fortunately no one was hurt, that time. And there are numerous other examples.”
“Am I wrong to think most of these are nothing outside of what most young men get up to in London? I have heard some stories.”
He shrugged. “I will say I have never dared anyone to attempt an activity that I wasn’t perfectly willing to perform myself. However, while I would hope no one would offend you with tales of my romantic liaisons, you might hear certain rumors about my tendency to become embroiled in duels.”
She blinked. “Duels? As in, multiple duels? I thought dueling is illegal.”
“It is.”
He gave her a moment to consider the fact.
“If you fought a duel, and survived it, I thought you would have to leave the country!”
“Well, yes, you would–if you actually fought the duel and if anyone, particularly the authorities, could prove you did. In between those two ‘ifs’” there is a great deal of leeway, however. I don’t believe anyone has ever been arrested, or at any rate prosecuted, on the basis of mere rumors.”
He wasn’t certain he dared to look at her after this much confession. The risk of seeing her judgment there seemed far more dangerous than any of the things he had done.
“You could have been killed.”
“My life had less value to me then than it does now.” Would she understand it was because of her?
“Did you actually fight these rumored duels?”
He did look at her then. In her eyes he saw concern, not judgment.
“Since few know that truth for certain, I think it would be best to keep it that way. If you are ever asked, you can say honestly that you do not know.”
She nodded. “Just tell me, then, did you have good reasons to fight these rumored duels if, in fact, you did so?
“Yes. Or at least I thought I did at the time.”
“Just as you thought the scandal of breaking your engagement was worthwhile in order to free your fiancée.”
“And myself as well, let us not forget. I had no wish to be married.”
They had come back as far as the corner of Church Street, where he stopped and finally turned to face her again.
“I think you know my view on marriage has altered. Not because I need to repair my reputation, although in truth I must. The change is because I met you. I cannot ask you without giving you time to consider what sort of wild devil-man you would be tied to, and also to consider that the stain of my public antics might reflect onto you.”
She opened her mouth to make a reply, but he put his finger against her soft lips. “I want you to be certain, whatever you decide. I don’t want you to answer now.”
He looked toward the village green, where the bonfire was beginning to dwindle. “Let us seek out your father–the snow is increasing and the fire is dying down. Tomorrow is Twelfth Night. Who knows what may happen then?”