by Ella Edon
To her relief, the two boys appeared from where they had been playing some game around the trees. John, fourteen years of age, was shy and soft-spoken while Noah, just twelve, was a little bundle of mischief. "Bring him in. Immediately. Someone is here! You know what to do."
Grace had been worried that her brothers might complain or simply ignore her, but they seemed to understand and came running in. She waited just long enough to lock the gate after them, and then ran back inside to join her mother.
Who would be calling on them now? They hadn’t had enough time to get their home in order and were in no position to receive any sort of guests, not even the tradesmen and servants who lived in Birdwell. But as she got back to the half-open front door, she realized that her mother's high-pitched voice sounded quite happy and excited.
"Oh, yes, come in, come in!" cried Patience, holding the door partly closed behind her. "I'm so glad to see you! Though I am sorry we have so little for you to see. We’re still moving in! Grace! Where is that girl? I'm sure she's here – just let me go and see – "
She turned around, pushing the door open, nearly hitting Grace with it. Quickly, her mother caught Grace's arm, pulled her out to the front lawn of the cottage, and shut the door.
"It's all right, dear," Patience said brightly. "Your Uncle Leonard Vane and Aunt Betsey are here, come to visit!"
With a small curtsey, Grace smiled at their guests. She had only seen them once or twice before in her life, but was well aware that they were her mother's brother, Uncle Leonard, and his wife, Aunt Betsey – and that they were the people who owned this cottage.
"Thank you for coming," said Grace. "I'm looking forward to getting to know both of you, now that – now that we’re all here."
"Oh, quick, now, Grace, go back inside and move some of those crates and things. We must have a place for our guests to sit down! And do we have anything to serve? Cake, anything?"
"Patience Miller. Please. I beg you," said Aunt Betsey. There was great weariness and exasperation in her voice. She was an older, grey-haired woman in the plain dress, apron, and woolen shawl of a tradesman's wife – which she was. Grace noticed that she carried a large cloth bundle beneath one arm.
"We know you just arrived," her aunt went on. "We didn’t come expecting dinner at Worthington House."
"Worthington!" Patience turned and glanced out at the great estate up on the faraway hill. It was over a mile from Applewood, but easily seen due to the supreme height on which it rested. "We have no hope of being invited to Worthington. Though I do hear there is an unmarried earl living there – "
"We don’t need to go inside the cottage," said Uncle Leonard. "We are perfectly fine to speak with you right here, in the front garden." He was a man in his fifties, of medium height, dressed in the old and threadbare suit that was his daily uniform for managing his little fabric and ribbon shop on the main street of Birdwell. "We have simply come to ask after your well-being and see if there is anything else you and your children might require."
Patience seemed to relax slightly and stood close to Grace while holding onto her arm. "We couldn’t ask for anything more," Patience said, a little more softly. "This cottage – it's – I'm well aware that it's – " Her voice broke and she dropped her head into her hand, leaning against her daughter.
Grace patted her mother's shoulder. "Uncle Leonard, I have not had the chance to thank you properly, either. We know this is your cottage. And we are very grateful that you are allowing us to stay here."
"Yes, yes, very grateful!" said Patience, straightening up and fumbling for a handkerchief in her own apron pocket. "Very kind of both of you to allow a widowed sister and her three poor children to live in the cottage you own."
All three of them shot Patience a look, but she simply went on talking. "One day, I promise we will invite you for the finest supper! I'll make it myself – I was a kitchen maid at Northcliff, you know, for five years – and Grace will help – "
"That is all very well, Patience," said Betsey. "But for the moment, do you suppose we could sit down on the benches under the tree?"
"Of course, of course!" Patience led Grace over to the three worn wooden benches beneath the single oak tree that grew between the cottage and the road. Grace sat down close to her mother and waited for Leonard and Betsey to join them.
"I promise," said Patience, "that we will be ready to show you some proper hospitality very soon. Won't we, Grace?"
"Of course." Grace glanced at her aunt and uncle as they sat down on their own bench. "Of course. You are welcome here anytime."
Aunt Betsey simply rolled her eyes and settled the large cloth bag on her lap. "Don't worry about us. We didn’t come here looking for an invitation to our own – " She stopped suddenly as her husband nudged her with his elbow. "That is, we have more important things to discuss with you and Grace."
It was Betsey's turn to nudge her husband, and he responded by reaching into his coat for something in an inner pocket.
"Discuss with us? What do you mean?" said Patience, holding more tightly to Grace's arm. "What has happened now?"
"Oh, I think you will both like this," said Leonard. From inside his coat, he drew out what looked like a small piece of white paper and offered it to Grace. "I think you will like this very much indeed."
Quickly, Patience snatched it out of his hand and studied it. "Oh! Oh, my – it's – Grace, do you know what this is?"
"No. I don't. But I might if you will let me see it." Still sitting on the bench, Grace took the piece of paper from her mother and examined it closely. "I'm sorry. I still don't know what this is."
"Of course you don't!" Patience cried. "Poor girl that you are – no coming-out, no fine gown, no invitations to anything out there at that northern house – not with you and your mother being servants there – your young brothers with no schooling and working all day in the barnyards, and your father nothing, but a coachman – "
"But now, Grace," said Uncle Leonard, quickly breaking in and trying to ignore his distraught sister, "all that is over. You are holding the first of what will be many new opportunities for you."
"It's a ticket to an assembly ball! In just ten days!" Patience grabbed the ticket from Grace and held it as though it were made of pure gold. "And you, my dear, are going to attend!"
"An assembly ball?" repeated Grace. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the memories of endless drudgery at the isolated Northcliff estate where she had lived for most of her life.
"That means," cried Patience, "that anyone with a ticket may attend! Oh, how exciting!"
"That's right," said Aunt Betsey. "Now give that to me." She held out her hand until Patience reluctantly handed back the ticket, and then tucked it into the little knitted bag that hung from her wrist. "Thank you. Now, this is the very first assembly ball to be held for many years here in Birdwell. There have been private dances up at Worthington, of course, from time to time, but those were far too fine for any of us who are merely in trade."
Uncle Leonard nodded. "But rumor has it that now, since our town has been growing of late, the family at Worthington wants to see some wholesome amusements provided for we working class folk. Most likely it is done in an effort to keep us to more, shall we say, 'respectable' means of passing the time."
Patience froze for a moment, but Aunt Betsey actually managed a smile. "I hope that the first to benefit from Birdwell's revived assembly ball will be Grace."
Grace nodded, her eyes wide. It felt strange to be the one receiving such generosity. "I am sure I will benefit," she went on, a little puzzled. "Attending a ball would be such fun! I cannot imagine what it might be like. I used to see the ladies arriving for such things at Northcliff, and occasionally the servants would try the dances out in the yard when no one was looking. But I never thought that I myself – "
"Miss Miller," her uncle said sternly, leaning forward, "you must be very clear about this. We are not sending you to this ball solely for your own amusement. You hav
e a very serious task ahead of you."
"Task?" Her heart began to beat faster and she suddenly felt very nervous. "What – what do you mean? What kind of task?"
Uncle Leonard started to speak, but then stopped. He glanced at his wife as though pleading with her to say what he could not.
With another deep sigh, Aunt Betsey looked straight at Patience. "You are all well aware that this was my home before you came here. This little cottage was very comfortable for my husband and I, and near enough to Birdwell that we could easily walk to our shop there. And frankly, I should like to have it back again before too much time passes."
Grace looked down, feeling suddenly very low for having turned this woman out of her home. It did not matter that neither she, nor anyone else in the Miller family had had any wish to do so.
"But Mr. Vane and I discussed the matter," Aunt Betsey went on. "We agreed that this was the only Christian thing to do. We sold the three acres of apple trees surrounding the cottage and kept only this half acre, which has just enough room for the cottage and the walled vegetable garden."
"That sale provides the money for your upkeep," Uncle Leonard explained. "But it will not last forever."
Aunt Betsey glanced him. "I will not be so polite," she said. "We are all in need of money. My husband and I have our shop, which provides a small income. Patience, you were a kitchen maid in a great house. We propose that you create pastries and dainties for us to sell in our shop a few times per week, and we would share the profits with you."
"Oh, I should love to do that! I could put my name on them, just like the city bakers do!"
"No. No. You could not," insisted Uncle Leonard.
"But – "
"No one is to know that you do aught but care for your lovely daughter and your two young sons, living at ease in your country cottage," Uncle Leonard continued.
"I could work, too," Grace said, rising to her feet. "I was a maid-of-all-work at Northcliff. I can clean, polish, launder, haul water, carry wood – whatever is needed. Surely someone here – "
"Again, no," Uncle Leonard said firmly. "You will work, Miss Grace. But not in the way you think."
Slowly, Grace sat down on the bench again, almost afraid to ask anything further.
"I'll be the one to tell you, Grace," said Aunt Betsey. "You are the best hope for this family's future. You have no other male relatives, save your Uncle Leonard. Your brothers are too young to earn more than a pittance. They would be better off with some schooling anyway, so they do not grow up to be rough, ignorant men."
"They are not ignorant!" cried Patience, shocked. "I taught them to read myself. And they can write – a little!"
Betsey ignored her. "My husband and I agree that Grace must marry and marry well. It will certainly be a better life for her than working until she drops in the dark hallways of some enormous house, which is about all she can look forward to now."
"I see," Grace whispered, not knowing whether she should feel thrilled or horrified. "Perhaps at the ball I might meet a successful tradesman or farmer . . . even a preacher, or a young soldier."
But Aunt Betsey sat up very straight on the bench, clutching her large cloth bag. "You still do not understand!" she admonished. "I said that you are to marry well."
"But – I am a servant – " Grace felt like dissolving into despair. How could she possibly do what her aunt and uncle expected her to do?
"Listen to me," Aunt Betsey said. "I told you I would not be polite. There is no time for niceties when the bills are coming due and your brothers need new breeches.
"You have an entire family who needs what a well-to-do husband can provide," she went on. "Surely you can understand that it is your duty to marry such a man – That you must set your sights as high as possible. That you should aim for the young earl himself!"
Grace looked up. Her mother caught her breath. "Oh!" said Patience. "Will Earl Worthington be there, at the assembly ball? Oh, how exciting!"
"That is not known," said Uncle Leonard. "The ladies who come to our shop have long said that though he does enjoy the company of pretty young women, he does not find large social gatherings to his taste. But you still must be ready, Miss Miller."
"I must say that I agree," said Patience, who was nodding beside her. "And even if he is not there and you hit a lower mark, it will still be higher than what you would have had otherwise! Oh, my dear, every eligible man in the county will be there. One of them is sure to be more than suitable for us!"
"For us?" said Grace, turning to look at her mother.
"For you, of course!" said Patience, and laughed happily.
Grace stood up and paced a few steps across the worn green grass of the lawn. "But Aunt Betsey – Uncle Leonard – the fact remains that I am nothing but a servant. I have never been anything else, never will be anything else. None but a simple tradesman would ever consider me, and a man like the earl would not look twice. I would only be wasting my time, and yours."
"Please, Miss Miller," Uncle Leonard said, shaking his head. "The point of all of this is that you will not be going to the ball as a servant. You will go nowhere ever again as a servant. That girl no longer exists."
"But – what do you mean?"
Aunt Betsey actually smiled. "We have a plan," she said. "And once we are done with you, the earl – and every other man at the ball – will look at you far more than twice!"
Grace sat back, feeling stunned. "I don't know what to say," she whispered. "It feels like the whole world is spinning!"
"It will stop soon enough," said Aunt Betsey, and passed the bundle in her lap over to Grace.
"In there, are two slightly worn, but perfectly respectable muslin dresses, along with a bonnet. You have not yet come into town and no one has seen you. Tomorrow, you will come to us in the shop for further planning and you will wear one of these dresses. Do not think of wearing your servant garb ever again."
"You are no longer a servant. You never were a servant," Uncle Leonard repeated firmly. "You must never forget that. Your future, and that of your family depends on it."
Chapter Two
An Earl Schemes To Avoid A Fortune Hunter
A short time later, Patience walked ahead to the roadway with Aunt Betsey while Grace walked with Uncle Leonard. "Is he safe?" her uncle asked quietly. "And are all of you safe while you are with him?"
Grace nodded. "We are. He only gets maudlin and sentimental at worst. He is as safe as we can make him. Truly, we do not know what else to do. There seems to be no cure for – for this sort of illness."
"I don't think there is a cure, either. And even good men can fall into it, as you have seen." Uncle Leonard took her hand as they reached the road. "But all of you will be safe here in the cottage. My wife and I are determined that you will all make a life for yourselves here."
"That's right," said Aunt Betsey. "We’ll see you tomorrow at the shop. You simply follow this road right here, along the Feathering River. The shop is near the far end of the western side of the street, and is called Fabrics, Feathers & Fineries."
"Far end, western side," Grace murmured, and then smiled. "My thanks to both of you. I'll see you tomorrow at the shop."
"Goodbye! Goodbye!" called Patience, as Aunt Betsey and Uncle Leonard walked south on the road towards Birdwell. Grace simply stood beside the fencepost and gazed up at the great estate known as Worthington, sitting high on the distant hill in the soft light of the fine spring day.
"Simon! Simon! Quickly! The bees – they're all around me! Oh, help me, please, take this plate away!"
Thomas, better known as the Earl Worthington, sat on the hillside just below the enormous, castle-like house where he and his family lived. It was a beautiful spring day and he was surrounded by his trusted male friends and by several of the prettiest young ladies in the county, enjoying a picnic atop blankets spread over the grass.
Or rather – he would have been enjoying it, if not for the behavior of one of the young married women at the picnic
.
Almost from the moment the party had arrived at the hillside, Beatrice Clarke had complained loudly about practically everything: the sun, the ants, the honeybees, the wind, the leaves that fell onto her plate – everything. And to make things worse, Beatrice was the newly married wife of Thomas's close and loyal friend, Simon Clarke.
Thomas watched as Simon hurried over to his wife's side. "What can I do, dear? Do you want to change your place again? Is the sun bothering you in this spot?"
"No! Didn't you hear me? It's these bees! They're everywhere! Get this plate away!"
The entire gathering watched, fascinated, as Simon awkwardly took her plate full of cakes in one hand and tried to help her up with the other. "Oh! You've trod on my skirts! Why do you have to be so clumsy? Get off, get off!"