The Vicar's Wife

12*

Trouble started at the bakery, albeit innocently enough. Hattie was perusing the tasty selection of sweets as her mother dickered with the baker. A shadow fell over her arm, making her look up.

"Franny!"

"Hattie," somewhat cool, Miss Blumfeld nodded her head in greeting. "What a surprise to see you here."

"Why should it surprise you, Franny?" Returning her attention to a small cake with pale pink frosting, Hattie bit her lip hungrily.

"I'd think you would be under lock and key at home, what with your upcoming wedding."

"Why should I need to be locked away?" Half-laughing, Hattie glanced at her, slowly sobering. "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing at all, dear friend," save the glint in Franny's eyes said differently. "After the escapade at the ball, I just thought your father would be more cautious about your exposure."

"Escapade?" Insulted, Hattie felt herself growing cross. "Exactly what do you mean by that Franny!"

"Oh come now," ignoring the curious looks of the other customers, Miss Blumfeld shook her head. "That spirited argument over Mr Forsythe's affections with Miss Julia Stafford, how you stormed from the room...and how long it took you to come back...on the vicar's arm."

"Franny," horrified, Hattie's features paled. "You make something out of nothing!"

"Nothing?" Calculating, Franny pursed her lips, pointing out a sample of cake to one of the baker's assistants to try. "How can that much time alone with a man be nothing, Hattie? Really...and a vicar too."

"It wasn't like that!"

"I'll have this," Franny indicated the bit of cake she's tried. "Five dozen small ones with the cream filling. Pink icing."

"No, you mustn't!" Stunned, Hattie's mouth dropped open as realization sank in. "Why are you ordering wedding cakes?"

"For my wedding day feast of course. I know you're flighty at times, dear Miss Foster, but surely you recall my engagement to Sir Horace Woodrow?" Satisfaction bloomed in Franny's eyes. "It is to be two Tuesdays next."

"But I'm married two Wednesdays next!"

"And you have my deepest congratulations, Hattie. Really." Slipping her glove back on, Miss Blumfeld wiggled her fingers at the girl's slack expression. "Ta ta, dear. I really have so many things to do."

"Mamma," stuttered from her lips, tear-filled eyes found Mrs Foster, who'd stood off to one side watching with venomous fury. Swiftly, she went to Hattie, dabbing the tears before they could fall.

"Composure, darling," she murmured softly, voice firm. "Keep your composure."

"She ordered the cakes I wanted, and is to be married the day before," whispering hoarsely, Hattie tried not to sob. "What will become of my wedding?"

"Those that attend one will attend another, if only for the food and drink," Lucille straightened her daughter's curls before lifting her chin to stare into her eyes. "We shan't let that affect us."

"I...I suppose not..." shocked by the malice of the encounter, Hattie numbly listened as her mother made a different order for the cakes, heart thumping hollowly in her breast. 'It's just food,' she assured herself silently. 'The true joy is becoming my darling Forsythe's wife. I hardly need cakes for that.' Encouraged, she was able to smile at the baker and leave the shop arm-in-arm with her mother. Edwards trailed behind with a few cakes in the basket for later.

The flower shop was packed with ladies eager to freshen their homes for the warmer weather. While most had gardens, wildflowers, or hothouses on their property, it was always a mad rush to see what would come in imported. Franny stepped from the crowd, spying the Foster ladies with a cool grin.