The Courtship of the Vicar's Daughter by Lawana Blackwell Read Free Book Online

assumed an eloquent pose. “It would be- hoof any child to be educated.”
    “Wait—I have one!” Miss Rawlins said above the laughter that followed Mr. Ellis’s contribution. “I cud listen to you make puns for days.”
    “Thank you, Miss Rawlins.” Mr. Clay inclined his head toward the head of the table. “But wouldn’t you rather listen to Aleda play the piano?”
    The mirth that erupted fizzled out in the same breath. Before anyone could ask Mr. Clay to explain his answer, he sent Aleda a wink. “ Mooo -sic.”
    It seemed a dam had been broken. An assortment of nonsense words were twittered and guffawed over—even those that weren’t quite up to mark, such as Mrs. Kingston’s “It was beast-ly of Mr. Sanders to crown poor Mr. Clay with a rock.”
    “Aren’t you going to say one, Mother?” Aleda whispered.
    “I’ve been trying to think,” Julia whispered back. “ Moon is the only word I can come up with, but it hasn’t anything to do with the subject.”
    Philip turned to her, his face flushed from laughter. “May I?”
    “If you like,” she nodded, relieved that at least one person from the Hollis family would be represented. Her son turned to the others, raised a timid hand as if in school, and was soon noticed by Mrs. Hyatt.
    “Have you a good one for us, Philip?”
    “I think so.”
    “Well, let’s hear it, young man,” Mrs. Dearing urged.
    “This is udderly the funniest supper I’ve ever had,” he said, which caused Mr. Clay to roar and Mr. Ellis to remove his spectacles and wipe his eyes with his napkin. By the time dessert was served—raspberry torte with cream—everyone had settled down somewhat, though the mood was still light.
    As the lodgers moved from the room later, Mr. Clay accepted Mr. Durwin’s request for a game of draughts “for old time’s sake.” Julia suspected that he did so to give Fiona and her some time to spend together and appreciated him all the more for it. “Why don’t you show me the rest of your new wardrobe?” she asked her friend.
    “I would love to,” Fiona said, linking her arm through Julia’s. They ambled down the corridor toward the courtyard door, first stepping into the kitchen to compliment Mrs. Herrick and the kitchen maids on the meal. Inside, the women were laying the table for the servants’ supper.
    “Ah, so’s Mr. Clay does allow you out of his sight now and then,” Mrs. Herrick told Fiona, causing a shocked giggle from scullery maid Gertie and a smile from Mildred.
    “Now and then” was Fiona’s smiling reply. “I’m happy to know that the cooking here is still the best in England.”
    “Flattery will land you another dish of raspberry torte, Mrs. Clay.”
    Fiona raised a hand to her waist. “It sounds wonderful, but I’m afraid I’ve no room for it, Mrs. Herrick.”
    They stayed only a minute or two longer, for the rest of the servants had begun drifting into the kitchen for their meal. In the comfortably furnished apartment over the stables, Julia sat at Fiona’s dressing table and tried on an assortment of hats. She angled her face to study herself wearing a particularly flattering one of midnight blue felt, the brim turned up at one side and adorned with feathers and ribbons. “Is this French?”
    Standing behind her like in the old days when she used to brush Julia’s hair, Fiona nodded. “It looks stunning on you.”
    “It does?” Julia allowed Fiona to tilt the brim a bit farther down on her forehead, then looked in the mirror again. She had begun to feel pretty again in spite of her thirty-two years, for Andrew told her so every day. Her waist-length auburn hair had no gray as of yet, and her slightly freckled cheeks were still smooth. “I do look like I’m about to have tea with the Queen, don’t I?”
    “Why don’t you keep it?”
    “Oh no, I couldn’t.”
    “You could wear it to the vicarage tomorrow evening.”
    The idea was tempting. For just a few seconds, Julia relived the years when the