Nancy Atherton by Aunt Dimity [14] Aunt Dimity Slays the Dragon Read Free Book Online

even
    though I was, in part, to blame for it. I wasn’t sure about anyone
    32 Nancy Atherton
    else, but in my rush to adorn myself with medieval finery I’d forgotten one small but important detail: I didn’t know how to sew. A
    short session with a sharp needle made me painfully aware of my
    ineptitude and I hurriedly signed up for one-on-one sewing tutorials
    with Sally, only to discover that I had no talent whatsoever as a
    seamstress.
    I made such a mess of the twins’ page costumes that I quietly
    disposed of them and hired Sally to make replacements. She agreed
    to make a dress for me as well, but since she was pressed for time,
    I had to scale down my vision quite a bit. Instead of a wimple-wearing
    duchess or a saber-rattling pirate, I would attend the fair as a runof-the-mill peasant woman.
    Sally finished our costumes in five whirlwind days, but she
    never got started on Bill’s. Although she’d off ered to make a modest, leg-concealing friar’s robe for him, he wouldn’t even allow her
    to take his measurements.
    My husband had evidently inherited a gene that rendered him
    immune to the costume bug. He didn’t find the notion of roleplaying romantic or amusing. He thought it was just plain stupid,
    and he wouldn’t have anything to do with it. I tried every persuasive tactic known to womankind, but he simply refused to countenance the idea of wearing clothes that weren’t exactly like the
    clothes he already owned.
    I decided to launch one last, desperate appeal the day before the
    fair was due to open. After rising early to drop the boys off at
    Anscombe Manor for their riding lessons, I cajoled Bill into spending the morning at home instead of in the offi
    ce, and rewarded
    him with a sumptuous brunch laid out on the teak table beneath
    the apple tree in the back garden. The weather was glorious and
    the garden was blissfully free of boy-noise. The stage was set to
    mount another offensive.
    Bill ate his fill of eggs Benedict, smoked salmon, and buttery
    crumpets, then settled back in his chair, invited Stanley to curl up
    in his lap, and opened his newspaper. As he perused the morning
    Aunt Dimity Slays the Dragon
    33
    headlines, I refilled his teacup and took a calming breath. I didn’t
    want to appear overeager.
    “Bill?” I said nonchalantly.
    “No,” he replied, without looking up from his paper. “Definitely
    and irrevocably no.”
    “But—”
    He silenced me with a look that was downright menacing. Stanley, sensing trouble, jumped down from his lap and trotted into the
    cottage.
    “Listen carefully, Lori,” said Bill, laying the newspaper aside.
    “I’ll go to the fair with you. I’ll spend an entire weekend there with
    you, if you like. But I will not dress up as a lord, a knight, a friar, an
    executioner, a wizard, a pirate, a mad monk, a humble woodsman,
    or anything else your fertile mind may cough up. It’s never going to
    happen. Period. End of discussion. Finito .”
    “So that’s a no, is it?” I inquired.
    “That’s a no,” Bill confirmed, and took a sip of tea.
    Defeated, I slouched back in my chair and brushed some crumbs
    from the table. As I did so, I recalled a drawing Rob had made the
    night before, depicting a mounted knight with an outsized lance in
    one hand and a flaming sword in the other. It was, according to
    Rob, a self-portrait, and the memory of it gave me a renewed sense
    of determination. I would not let Bill disappoint the twins.
    “Everyone we know will be wearing medieval clothes,” I said.
    “What will the twins think when you show up at the fair wearing
    a baseball cap, a polo shirt, khaki shorts, and sneakers?”
    “Will and Rob will think that I look like their father,” Bill replied.
    “But everyone else will think you’re—”
    “Lori,” Bill interrupted. “I stopped caring about what everyone
    else thinks midway through my first year at prep school. If our
    friends and neighbors wish to wear feathered caps and pantaloons to
    the