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Authors: Marilyn Clay
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up to it, Mother?" Lord Rathbone asked, taking a seat on a faded silk sofa beside Chelsea, while the vicar settled his large frame on a somewhat tattered brocade side chair. "I had rather thought it would be more expedient if Alayna and I were married in London, on our way back to Honduras."
Chelsea swallowed a squeak of alarm, but upon recovering, put in hastily, "But, Ford, I should like a nice wedding. Your parents were married in the castle chapel, and I see no reason why we shouldn't . . . "
"Alayna is right, Rutherford. And I'm sure she will see to the bulk of the arrangements, won't you, dear?"
"Of course, I will," Chelsea replied quickly, smiling with relief at the prospect of being kept blessedly occupied.
"From what I hear," the vicar put in, "Miss Marchmont is quite good at organizing and such. Why, just look at the way she's brightened this room up." He beamed at Chelsea again.
Lord Rathbone's lips pursed. "I would appreciate it if someone would please enlighten me as to precisely what was amiss indoors."
Lady Rathbone laughed. "Well, for one thing, there were the portraits in the picture gallery."
"Yes, well, what about them?"
"Why, I had thought all my husband's ancestors' hair had suddenly turned white, until Alayna had the dust rubbed off and now every last Rathbone in the bunch has hair the color of coal!"
Everyone but Rutherford laughed gaily.
"And there was the furniture and the rugs, to say nothing of the bed hangings and draperies. Your betrothed, my dear boy, has been a veritable whirlwind of activity."
Lord Rathbone cast another quizzical gaze at Chelsea. "Hmm."
"And did I not hear something about a pig?" the vicar asked.
"A pig!" Rathbone sputtered. "Don't tell me Alayna has also been frequenting the barnyard."
At that they all, save Rutherford, burst into hearty laughter.
"Alayna, do tell your cousin about the pig," admonished Lady Rathbone. "It was quite extraordinary."
Feeling more relaxed than she had in days, Chelsea smilingly related the story of the high winds, the torn shutter and the slain pig, whereupon everyone, including Lord Rathbone, shared another round of laughter.
Chelsea was struck by how pleasant the sound of Lord Rathbone's laugh was. It came from deep within him, the delicious sound being at once both warm and mellow. Realizing how good it felt to forget her troubles for a spell, she eagerly joined in the merriment. Mr. Stevens was a jolly fellow, not the least bit stuffy or prim as clergymen were so often wont to be. He loved both hearing amusing tales and often told them, even from the pulpit.
After he'd relayed a few more village on-dits, they settled down to discuss the details for the wedding ceremony. After that subject had also been exhausted, he turned again to Chelsea.
"I wonder, Miss Marchmont, if you would be good enough to accompany Mrs. Stevens on her rounds this Thursday? Your charming countenance is sure to lift the spirits of many of our more elderly parishioners."
"Oh! Well, I-I . . . "
"Why, I think that a lovely idea," put in Lady Rathbone. "Alayna has quite cheered me these last weeks. I can't think when I have enjoyed myself half so much. Did I mention, Ford, that your lovely bride-to-be is in the habit of reading to me every afternoon, and often again in the evening before I go to sleep? Why, it was Alayna herself who found this chair and insisted that I venture out and about."
Lord Rathbone turned an approving look on Chelsea. "Is that so?"
"So, it's settled then," the vicar concluded. He rose to go. "I shall tell Mrs. Stevens to call for you at half past two, Miss Marchmont. If that is agreeable with you, of course."
Chelsea nodded, then was startled to hear Lord Rathbone chime in.
"I should like to go along, as well . . . that is, if I am free. Father had several elderly acquaintances in the parish that I should like to see again. It's likely this could be my last opportunity to visit them." He smiled at Chelsea. "I should also like
Chelsea swallowed a squeak of alarm, but upon recovering, put in hastily, "But, Ford, I should like a nice wedding. Your parents were married in the castle chapel, and I see no reason why we shouldn't . . . "
"Alayna is right, Rutherford. And I'm sure she will see to the bulk of the arrangements, won't you, dear?"
"Of course, I will," Chelsea replied quickly, smiling with relief at the prospect of being kept blessedly occupied.
"From what I hear," the vicar put in, "Miss Marchmont is quite good at organizing and such. Why, just look at the way she's brightened this room up." He beamed at Chelsea again.
Lord Rathbone's lips pursed. "I would appreciate it if someone would please enlighten me as to precisely what was amiss indoors."
Lady Rathbone laughed. "Well, for one thing, there were the portraits in the picture gallery."
"Yes, well, what about them?"
"Why, I had thought all my husband's ancestors' hair had suddenly turned white, until Alayna had the dust rubbed off and now every last Rathbone in the bunch has hair the color of coal!"
Everyone but Rutherford laughed gaily.
"And there was the furniture and the rugs, to say nothing of the bed hangings and draperies. Your betrothed, my dear boy, has been a veritable whirlwind of activity."
Lord Rathbone cast another quizzical gaze at Chelsea. "Hmm."
"And did I not hear something about a pig?" the vicar asked.
"A pig!" Rathbone sputtered. "Don't tell me Alayna has also been frequenting the barnyard."
At that they all, save Rutherford, burst into hearty laughter.
"Alayna, do tell your cousin about the pig," admonished Lady Rathbone. "It was quite extraordinary."
Feeling more relaxed than she had in days, Chelsea smilingly related the story of the high winds, the torn shutter and the slain pig, whereupon everyone, including Lord Rathbone, shared another round of laughter.
Chelsea was struck by how pleasant the sound of Lord Rathbone's laugh was. It came from deep within him, the delicious sound being at once both warm and mellow. Realizing how good it felt to forget her troubles for a spell, she eagerly joined in the merriment. Mr. Stevens was a jolly fellow, not the least bit stuffy or prim as clergymen were so often wont to be. He loved both hearing amusing tales and often told them, even from the pulpit.
After he'd relayed a few more village on-dits, they settled down to discuss the details for the wedding ceremony. After that subject had also been exhausted, he turned again to Chelsea.
"I wonder, Miss Marchmont, if you would be good enough to accompany Mrs. Stevens on her rounds this Thursday? Your charming countenance is sure to lift the spirits of many of our more elderly parishioners."
"Oh! Well, I-I . . . "
"Why, I think that a lovely idea," put in Lady Rathbone. "Alayna has quite cheered me these last weeks. I can't think when I have enjoyed myself half so much. Did I mention, Ford, that your lovely bride-to-be is in the habit of reading to me every afternoon, and often again in the evening before I go to sleep? Why, it was Alayna herself who found this chair and insisted that I venture out and about."
Lord Rathbone turned an approving look on Chelsea. "Is that so?"
"So, it's settled then," the vicar concluded. He rose to go. "I shall tell Mrs. Stevens to call for you at half past two, Miss Marchmont. If that is agreeable with you, of course."
Chelsea nodded, then was startled to hear Lord Rathbone chime in.
"I should like to go along, as well . . . that is, if I am free. Father had several elderly acquaintances in the parish that I should like to see again. It's likely this could be my last opportunity to visit them." He smiled at Chelsea. "I should also like
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