Lily sipped her wine. “How funny that he and Rand would have the same book.”
“Perhaps it was required reading at Oxford,” Judith quipped, eliciting titters from Lily’s sisters.
“Let’s send for it,” Rose suggested. The glitter in her eyes belied her solemn tone. “It sounds educational.”
Violet laughed but scribbled a note to Ford. They sent a footman to deliver it and instructed him to wait and bring the book back. “Now,” she said, “while we wait, we must solve the problem at hand.”
Lily went over the whole story again, all the depressing details. Then they tossed around ideas. But every solution proposed, no matter how promising at first, turned out to be flawed, impossible, or downright ludicrous.
As it appeared more and more that Lily’s situation was hopeless, the suggestions became fewer and farther between, until an hour later they finally fell into a heavy silence.
Violet slipped off her spectacles and polished them on her skirts. “Egad, we’re a woebegone bunch. This is supposed to be a party. We’ll discuss this again later, but for now, let’s see if the songbook has arrived.”
Soon they were in the drawing room, giggling, the book propped up on the harpsichord where they could all see the words while Lily read the music.
“Play this one, Lily,” Rose said, her dark eyes wide. She began singing.
“Let her face be fair,
And her breasts be bare,
And a voice let her have that can warble;
Let her belly be soft—but to mount me aloft,
Let her bounding buttocks be marble!”
They’d brought the wine with them, and Judith gulped hers, looking shocked. “I cannot believe men sing songs like that!”
Amusement twitched Violet’s lips. “Oh, women sing songs like that, too.”
“They don’t,” Judith said.
“They do.” Violet reached over Lily’s shoulder to flip some pages, then stepped back. “‘The Nurse’s Song.’ Play this one, dear sister.” She sang along with Rose.
“My dear cockadoodle,
My jewel, my joy,
My darling, my honey,
My pretty sweet boy!
To make thee grow quickly
I’ll do what I can:
I’ll feed thee, I’ll stroke thee,
I’ll make thee a man.”
The Ashcroft sisters laughed, but Judith gulped more wine. “I don’t understand. To make thee grow quickly?”
“It’s the man’s yard the song speaks of,” Rose said.
“His yard?” If anything, Judith looked even more confused.
Rose waved a hand. “The man’s…you know.”
For all her forthrightness, Lily thought, Rose was still innocent.
“I vow and swear,” Rose continued, “you must read Aristotle’s Master-piece before you get married.”
Now Judith gasped. Although she knew the Ashcroft sisters had all read it, the book was considered scandalous. A desperate look in her eyes, she turned to Violet. “You’re married. Tell me.”
Lily was relieved that she wasn’t the one asked to explain.
While a pink-cheeked Judith learned the facts from Violet, Rose flipped pages in the book. “Here’s another one for women to sing,” she said when Violet was finished. “‘A Tenement to Let.’”
Lily set the book back up on the harpsichord and began to play.
“I have a tenement to let,
I hope will please you all—
And if you’d know the name of it,
’Tis calléd Cunny Hall
“The place is very dark by night
And so it is by day:
But when you once are entered in,
You cannot lose your way.
“And when you’re in, go boldly on,
As far as e’er you can:
And if you reach to the house-top
You’ll be where ne’er was a man!”
Even Judith understood that one, as her rapidly reddening cheeks proved. While Rose started turning pages again, Judith sipped more wine. “‘Tom Tinker,’” she said, staying Rose’s hand. “That one sounds good.”
“Innocent, you mean?” Violet’s brown eyes sparkled behind her spectacles. “I can promise you, it isn’t.”
This time, they all sang together.
“Tom Tinker’s my true-love, and I am his dear,
and I will go with him, his toolkit to bear.
He calls me his jewel, his delicate duck,
And then he will take up my chemise to—”
“That’s ever so—” Judith interrupted loudly, then seemed unable to continue.
Lily stopped playing and looked up into her friend’s bright red face. “What’s your problem this time, Judith?” Despite everything, she was beginning to have fun. Perhaps it was the wine. Or the companionship. Or perhaps one could be woebegone, as Violet had put it, for only so long before needing to forget for a spell—even if only a very short one. “That’s ever so what?”
“That word there that’s missing—the one that rhymes with ‘duck.’ Why, I do believe…” Judith trailed off, her face turning even redder.
“Yes,” Violet said dryly. “The word begins with f and we all know what it is now, don’t we? But the point, dear Judith, is that it is missing. See here, the last printed word is ‘to,’ and after that comes the chorus.”
Judith gulped more wine, clearly getting a little tipsy. “You said that so matter-of-factly,” she observed, admiration lacing her voice. “You’re so practical and calm, even discussing…”
“Lovemaking?” Rose finished for her with a grin. “That comes of being an old married lady.”
“I am not old!” Violet protested, reaching to shove Rose’s shoulder. But Rose just laughed and launched into the chorus. The others joined, even Lily, even though she couldn’t carry a tune. Tonight that didn’t seem to matter.
“This way, that way, which way you will,
I am sure I say nothing that you can take ill!”
“See?” Violet said while Lily continued playing. “We’re all proper ladies, aren’t we? We’d never say a word that could be taken ill!”
Amid laughter, they kept singing.
“Tom Tinker I say was a jolly stout lad,
He tickled young Nancy and made her stark mad
To play a new game with him on the grass,
By reason she knew that he had a good—”
“Ass!” Judith crowed, filling in the word they all thought even though it wasn’t meant to be sung.
“This way, that way, which way you will,
I am sure I say nothing. . .”
FIFTY-FIVE
“…THAT YOU can take ill!”
