Perdita wasn't what one would call a devout Catholic, but more like a fair-weather Catholic. Back in California, she went to church when she woke up early enough on Sundays for the morning mass and religiously during the holy holidays.
After several years of dragging her out of bed on Sundays, her Mama finally gave up a few years ago. She said Perdita was a grown woman and the one responsible for her own immortal soul. Perdita tried hard to make it to church to join her Mama because it made her happy, but she loved her sleep too much.
Having escaped to England, she now had Aunt Lavinia, her mother's older sister, dragging her to church. "It's not even a Catholic church. I'll just sit there and get bored to death. I'll make you look bad to your friends because I'll fall asleep in the pew and snore. ‘Oh, Vinnie’s clod of a niece from the colonies.’”
“Ladies do not snore. Your mother told me you were a pleasant, biddable girl. I shouldn’t have trusted that dratted sister of mine.” She held a tea-length dress in front of Perdita, one they chose together. It was white with red cherries and green leaves all over it, with a full A-line skirt and a big green bow around the middle. Red silk piping edged the square neckline, the end of the short puffed sleeves, and the hem of the skirt. “I think you’d make a splash in this one. We even got you a little cunning hat to match with it. Oh and those darling sandals!”
Perdita made a face in the mirror. “Aunt Vin, I’d look like a raffle prize for a sailor’s coming home party at the USO.” What was she thinking when she agreed to get this dress? Well, it’s worlds different from anything she’d wear in California where she dressed like a nun because of her Papa’s strict rules.
“Oh, it’s lovely.” Aunt Lavinia took off Perdita’s robe and thrust the dress at her. “Look, I haven’t been to this particular chapel in years. I’ve been attending the one in Ely, but I bumped into an old school chum of mine who lives near Grantchester and she swears by this vicar. I’d told her the new archdeacon at Ely is a pleasant man, but rather dreary, so she recommended that I visit her church this Sunday. Afterward, we’ll have lunch at the vicarage. Lady Warren and the vicar are friends. His housekeeper apparently makes the most delicious roasts.”
Perdita rolled her eyes and grudgingly pulled the dress over her head. As she emerged from the neckhole, she was surprised by what she saw in the mirror. Her aunt yanked her arms through the sleeves and began to fluff up the skirt, which had a built-in petticoat. Perdita gawked at her own reflection.
Perdita realized she didn't look half bad. The red in the dress brought out the caramel tones of her natural morena complexion and she didn't look like a raffle prize at the USO at all. She looked more like Lady Bountiful, celebrating the beginning of spring, with her bouncy black curls. All she needed was a basket full of fruit to distribute to the little people.
But it wasn't spring anymore--it was June. And Aunt Lavinia insisted that Perdita wear a snood because it was Sunday and people might think she was a gypsy with her wild Spanish hair.
At least Trudy, her aunt's maid, was a genius in styling hair and managed not to make her look like a schoolmarm. It helped that the snood that her aunt allowed her to borrow was black and had tiny pearls woven into the net. Perdita completed the outfit with the necklace her mother gave her before she left for England, a platinum chain with a cross pendant, also made of platinum.
She ended up not wearing the cunning hat because the snood made the fit awkward.
By the time she finished getting ready, her aunt was already ushering them both out the door. Perdita whined about not getting any breakfast and her aunt, Lady Cosgrove, told her she should have woken up earlier instead of languishing in bed like an old Italian diva.
When they got down to the sidewalk from the steps of her aunt's Edwardian brick house, Aunt Vin became more irate. The car waiting for them was a white Rolls Royce that Uncle Bertram had recently purchased for his lovely wife for her fiftieth birthday. The chauffeur Bellamy held the door open for them, tipped his hat, and said, "Ma'am."
Once they were settled inside, Perdita lay against the luxurious leather seats and closed her eyes. She heard her aunt say, "The chapel in Grantchester, Bellamy, and be quick about it."
"Right-o, my lady," Bellamy replied with the cheeriness of a man who loved his job.
The road to Grantchester was mostly on smooth, paved roads, but there were dirt paths, too, with lots of rocks and pebbles that the car had to drive over. There were bumps, jolts, and swerves to avoid large puddles of mud. Bellamy also had to slam on the brakes a few times to let some farm animals cross the road.
Perdita didn't like sitting in the back seat of a moving car. She often got dizzy and nauseated. On previous occasions, she'd had to ask Bellamy to pull over so she could throw up on the side of the road. Aunt Vin told her it was not ladylike.
"Open your eyes, you stupid girl," her aunt said, swatting Perdita's forearm with her fan. "The vertigo is worse when you have your eyes closed. Focus on the windscreen, stare at a fixed point, and breathe slowly. Do as I say. I won't have you vomiting in my car."
Perdita opened her eyes with caution. She was getting used to her aunt's manner of speech. Mama said she was only gruff with people she loved. It was when Aunt Vin was especially nice to a person that Perdita should worry.
"Don't you worry, Miss. Once we turn on the main road to Grantchester, there will be no more dirt roads," Bellamy told her, smiling at her in the rearview mirror.
Beads of cold sweat formed on Perdita's forehead and her hands closed into fists as she tried to endure her roiling stomach. They were almost at the main road that Bellamy assured her was there, and a sign in front of them was fast approaching. Perdita concentrated on the sign as her fixed point. The pole held two placards. One said "Cambridge ←" and the other "Grantchester →."
"Finally," Aunt Vin exclaimed.
Bellamy had to take another route because the main road from Cambridge to Grantchester had to be shut down early in the morning due to construction. The dirt path was the only other way to the little village. Unless, Aunt Vin had suggested with a delicate sniff, Perdita was willing to get on a punt and float down the River Cam.
The car had to stop so a man on a bicycle could zoom across in front of them. Perdita saw nothing but a white shirt and hair that looked like fire in the morning sun.
"Heavens," said Aunt Vin. "These ruffians on bicycles are a menace to society!"
Perdita sighed, but said nothing. Once Bellamy had the car on paved road again, she could finally relax. She rolled down the window so she could get some fresh air and sat back down against the lovely cushions. She tried not to react when Aunt Vin reached out between them and patted her hand. The woman rarely showed affection and Perdita didn't want to embarrass her.
They drove into the village proper and Perdita gasped with pleasure at the provincial charm of everything she saw. She spotted a bakery, an apothecary, a public house, a diner, an ice cream shoppe, a bookstore, and a movie theater featuring "The Ladykillers" which starred Alec Guinness and Peter Sellers.
Soon they were pulling up to a small chapel that looked ancient, much like everything in England. Aunt Vin said it was built in 1421. This tidbit impressed Perdita, because everything in her home state of California, was relatively new. The chapel was older than the United States itself!
Bellamy opened the door and guided Aunt Vin, then Perdita out of the car.
Her aunt gave the chauffeur a few pounds from her pocketbook. "Have a meal and a movie on me, Bellamy, then pick us up from the vicarage in a few hours. There's a good man."
Bellamy tipped his hat. "Much obliged, my lady. Thank you. Enjoy your visit."
Perdita smiled at the older man, who smiled back. "Have fun, Bellamy." She took her aunt's arm and checked both sides of the road, before crossing.
Once they reached the churchyard, Aunt Vin spotted people she knew and disengaged from her, telling her to find youngsters to socialize with. Perdita sighed and rolled her eyes.
She looked around, but didn't really identify anyone in her age group. Oh yeah, this was going to be fun.
From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of red hair. She turned to face it and saw a tall man standing at the mouth of the chapel. He was dressed in clergy vestments and greeting people as they went into the church.
Perdita decided to get closer for a better look and hid behind a tree. The vicar was a young man, an impressively built man with broad shoulders and short, bright auburn hair. Her fingers curled around a low branch as her gaze drank in his handsome features.
He looked like a painting of an archangel by one of the Italian masters. A Michaelangelo, maybe. Was a vicar allowed to have such full lips? Even dressed as he was in a black cassock, white suplice, and black tippet, he managed to look... enticing.
Perdita cursed herself for the direction of her thoughts. She was a sinner through and through.
