Page 30 of Cupid Comes to Little Valentine (The Venturesome Ladies of Little Valentine #1)
“You need a reason for the ladies to gather, for the first few times certainly,” Mrs Adamson said, frowning.
“Perhaps we should just offer tea and cakes to anyone who will come. If we meet once a month to begin with, it might mean even the ladies who work could find a way to come. Perhaps if it was at lunchtime? Then we could do other things, like offering a free painting lesson, Bea could do that, couldn’t she? ”
“Oh,” Bea blushed, looking taken aback. “Well, I suppose so, but there’s probably a lady with more talent than I have in the town.”
“Nonsense, you’ll be splendid. You’re wonderfully patient and so encouraging, everyone will feel delighted with their achievements,” Clementine said, pleased with the idea.
“And Izzy and some of the other ladies could do a piano recital. We’d all appreciate that, and the likes of Polly and some of the other ladies might never have had the chance to enjoy such a thing.
Perhaps we could do a dancing class too? ”
Mrs Adamson nodded. “If we got the ladies talking, about the paintings they’ve done, or the music they’ve listened to, perhaps they will relax and make friends a little easier.
Dancing should be a lot of fun too, with those that can teaching those that can’t.
Perhaps in time, we could invite guest speakers too, interesting ladies who have done something out of the ordinary. ”
“Authors, or painters,” Bea suggested, delighted by the idea. “I should love to hear a proper artist speak about her work.”
They spent a lovely afternoon taking notes and making plans, and drawing up a list of all the women in the town.
They would put up posters too, but it seemed prudent to address a note to each lady, so they felt they had been personally invited to join.
Being noticed, valued, and wanted was the point of the exercise, after all.
“The Misses Brumley will be certain to join, and I know Martha will want to,” Mrs Adamson said. “Cook too, I’m sure. Mrs Fairway will love hearing everyone praise her cakes,” she observed with a smile.
“Mrs Mabbs and Mrs Adie will come. Polly, too,” Bea agreed.
“I do hope you are not expecting my Aunt Edna to join,” Clara said suddenly, her face the picture of horror.
“No, love,” Clementine said at once. “She doesn’t leave the house anyway, does she?”
Clara relaxed and shook her head. “No, and she’ll stop me leaving it too if she gets wind of such a thing as a ladies’ club. Especially if there are cooks and maids among the members. She’ll think it vulgar and shocking. Anything that’s fun or diverting is vulgar or shocking.”
“You don’t think anyone would tell her?” Bea asked anxiously, looking concerned on Clara’s behalf.
“Oh, no. I’m safe on that point at least. No one ever visits her. Other than Reverend Honeywell.”
“That’s so sad,” Bea said, frowning. “I hadn’t realised. I shall call on her tomorrow with a bouquet from the garden.”
“Oh,” Clara said anxiously, suddenly tongue-tied, despite usually being at ease with the Honeywell sisters.
It had taken all her courage to force herself to converse in front of Mrs Adamson, Clementine knew, and she had marvelled at how well she had done.
But Bea’s sudden kindness towards her aunt had thrown her into confusion. “Oh, d-dear.”
“It’s all right, Clara. Bea won’t hold it against you if your aunt is less than welcoming. Will you, Bea?”
“Of course not,” Bea replied, smiling warmly at Clara. “Don’t worry. She can be as mean and hateful as she desires, and I won’t bat an eyelid. People like that are usually deeply unhappy, and we can only pity them. She won’t hurt or offend me, I promise you.”
Clara let out a breath, the anxiety leaving her body in such a rush her shoulders dropped a full inch. She nodded but turned her attention to the cake on her plate and added nothing further to the conversation.
“Clara has made a good point,” Mrs Adamson said, looking concerned. “There will be ladies who consider themselves a cut above, who won’t lower themselves to join a club that welcomes the lower orders. I am afraid even my presence might hinder your progress. Perhaps I ought not to be a part of it.”
“Nonsense!” All three sisters spoke at once, and even Clara shook her head.
“The club is for anyone female,” Clementine said, her voice firm. “No matter what their circumstances. It is a place for solidarity of spirit, for lifting each other up. Friendships will be made because of our similarities. Our differences will merely add interest to the conversation.”
“I agree, Clemmie,” Izzy said hesitantly. “But Mrs Adamson is right. It will probably stop some of the top-lofty women from joining.”
Clementine nodded.
“To begin with, certainly. But if the club becomes what we hope it will be, if it is a safe place to speak your mind, and offers support and comfort and does good within the town, then they will demand entrance. Perhaps we should have a numbers cap,” she added, grinning now as the idea occurred to her.
“Then we can tell the ladies who refuse that it is a good thing, as we had not enough space for them anyhow. You know how people always want what they can’t have. ”
“Clementine Honeywell,” Mrs Adamson said, her tone filled with admiration. “You wicked, wicked girl.”
Clementine carried the empty tray down to the kitchens of The Mermaid’s Tale, where the cook, Mrs Fairway, snatched it from her with a little cry of distress.
“Miss Honeywell! What are you thinking? You are a guest here, not paid labour. Martha would have done that.”
Clementine laughed, brushing a loose lock of hair from her eyes. “It’s no trouble at all, Mrs Fairway. I don’t think carrying an empty tray is going to do me any harm, and I wanted to thank you for the excellent cakes. They were quite divine.”
Mrs Fairway beamed, her narrow frame seeming to grow with the compliment. “Well, thank you, miss. I suppose Mrs Adie has a light hand with pastry, but cakes and biscuits are my particular specialty,” she said with pride.
Clementine hid a grin, aware of the rivalry between the two women. “They were quite delicious,” she said diplomatically, refusing to be drawn on Mrs Adie’s strengths and weaknesses in the kitchen.
“There you are,” Mrs Adamson called, coming down the stairs to find Clementine in the kitchen. “Your sisters said they would meet you back at the vicarage. Clara has gone too, afraid her wretched aunt will be kicking up merry hell, I don’t doubt.”
Clementine pulled a face. “That is certainly one situation I wish to change with our efforts, though I do not know how we shall manage it.”
“Well, a very wise reverend has told me that miracles do happen,” Mrs Adamson said with a wry smile. “So, we shall go forward with the highest expectations, Miss Honeywell.”
“Indeed, we shall, and thank you for everything, Mrs Adamson. I believe you will be critical to our success.”
Rather to Clementine’s surprise, the lady’s cheeks grew pink with pleasure at her words.
“Thank you,” Mrs Adamson said, her tone sincere. “You and your father and sisters welcomed me from the moment I arrived, and I am so grateful. It is for that reason that I hope you will heed my words carefully and believe I mean them for the best.”
“Of course,” Clementine said, wondering to what on earth she was referring.
“Have a care with Stonehaven. He can be remarkably charming, and it would be far too easy for a naive girl to form a tendre for him, but he is not the marrying kind. I would not like to see either of your sisters hurt by a man who does not comprehend what tenderness is.”
Clementine nodded, her own concerns only underscored by the woman’s warning. “Thank you, Mrs Adamson. I confess I had come to the same conclusion, but I doubt we shall see the marquess again anytime soon.”
Mrs Adamson smiled, but did not look confident. “I hope you may be right, but Lord Stonehaven is used to having everything his own way, and to getting what he wants. Take care of your sisters, Miss Honeywell.”
Clementine agreed she would certainly do so and walked out of the hotel, intending to go down to the beach.
As she did so, she saw a young woman walking down the hill.
Clementine had never seen her before and was suddenly reminded of Miss Edith’s request that she make herself known to Miss Marwick, who would be renting one of the seafront cottages.
“Good day to you!” she called.
The woman paused at hearing her voice, and for a moment Clementine thought she saw a glimmer of irritation, but it vanished so quickly, replaced by a bright smile, that she felt certain she must have imagined it.
“You must be Miss Marwick,” Clementine said, holding out her hand to the woman as they drew near.
“I am,” she said, and Clementine realised she was very young, perhaps twenty years of age.
“Forgive me for waylaying you. I am Miss Honeywell. My father is Reverend Honeywell, of All Saints' Church. I shan’t keep you, for I can see you are busy, but I wished to welcome you and your brother to the town, and to invite you both to tea. My father loves meeting new people,” she added with a warm smile.
“You are too kind, Miss Honeywell. My brother travels a good deal, I’m afraid, and is away from home for the time being.
Perhaps when he returns. Things are so topsy-turvy with only me and two maids to get everything put to rights.
You know what men are for rushing off when there is housework to do,” she added ruefully.
Clementine nodded reassuringly. “Of course. But please know that we would very much welcome a visit when the time is right.”
“Thank you. That is so very kind of you. I shall be pleased to do so very soon.”
Clementine smiled and bade her goodbye, reassured that there was nothing nefarious about the girl, and glad that she could put Miss Edith’s mind to rest. Watching as Miss Marwick waved a friendly goodbye, she turned away and carried on down to the beach.