by Delia Parr
Before Emma could respond, Liesel and Ditty appeared at the end of the hallway, carrying a large travel bag between them. Liesel nodded toward Orralynne. “I . . . I’m sorry I took so long. I couldn’t manage this bag by myself, so I waited for Ditty to come downstairs to help me,” she managed as the two women huffed their way down the hallway.
“You should have asked Mr. Kirk or Mr. Lewis to carry this for you,” Emma countered as she helped the two young women set the bag down on the floor in front of Lester’s bedroom door.
Ditty’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “They’re both down in the root cellar handling a . . . a bit of a problem. Or two,” she added.
Imagining all sorts of trouble those two chickens might have gotten into, Emma rolled her eyes but held back a groan. “Why don’t the two of you see if you can help the others?”
Liesel cocked her head. “What about Miss Burke’s other bag? It’s still downstairs where you left it in the library.”
“I’ll bring the bag up,” Emma offered and waited until the young women had left before turning her attention back to Orralynne and the trouble facing her on the second floor. “Would you like me to help you get this bag inside your brother’s room?”
Orralynne stiffened. “No. I’ll manage.”
Still curious about the precise nature and extent of Lester’s indisposition, Emma kept Mr. Lewis’s concerns about Lester’s limp in mind and pressed for more information. “I can have Liesel or Ditty bring up some fresh water if that would help your brother, or have some water heated up, perhaps?”
Orralynne looked at the door to her brother’s room and then down at the floor again before looking back at Emma. “Some hot water would be best. My brother often needs . . . He uses warm compresses every day to ease the trouble with his foot.”
Emma swallowed hard. Orralynne’s explanation presented the very real possibility that the blood on the floor had seeped through Lester’s boot, opening up the troubling possibility of an infection, which would pose a very real threat to the man’s well-being.
Orralynne sniffed, as if reading Emma’s mind. “It’s nothing that can’t be treated,” she insisted, “although I daresay it could have been avoided. Unfortunately, because we’ve been forced to move four times in almost as many days, my brother hasn’t had either the opportunity or the time to tend to his physical needs the way he should.”
Although Emma still remained skeptical, she had little desire to antagonize Orralynne or question her judgment about her brother’s condition or his needs. “Then I’m glad he finally has a room of his own, for as long as he likes,” Emma murmured. “I’ll bring some hot water up as soon as it’s heated. Would you like me to put your bags across the hall so you can be close-by to help your brother?”
Orralynne tilted up her chin. “My brother prefers to tend to his own needs. As you recommended, I’ll be staying in the purple room, but I’ll wait here with him to make sure he has everything he needs before I leave. It might be best if we each had supper in our own rooms tonight, as well.”
Emma nodded and hurried downstairs to set some water on the stove before carrying Orralynne’s other bag upstairs. She quite forgot all about the trouble in the root cellar until she got to the kitchen.
Mother Garrett looked up from her place at the kitchen table, where she was frosting a cake, and greeted her with a smile. “I get to say ‘I told you so,’ but that’s all I’m going to say. For now.”
Emma let out a sigh, filled a pot with water, and set it on the stove alongside a pot of simmering chicken soup. “Mr. Burke needs some hot water,” she explained. “Can I assume that’s not one of my chickens in the soup pot?”
“Not this time.”
Emma looked around the kitchen and furrowed her brow. “Where’s Aunt Frances?”
“Downstairs in the root cellar helping Anson and that artist fellow with the chickens.”
Emma shook her head. “Do I want to know what happened down there?”
Before she could answer, Liesel appeared in the doorway leading to the dining room. “I’ve got Miss Burke’s bag. Should I take it upstairs?”
“I thought you were going to help Ditty and the others in the root cellar.”
“There wasn’t much room for me, not with everyone else there.”
“Oh, then I suppose you can take Miss Burke’s bag up for me. Put it in the purple room, will you? When Mr. Lewis is finished in the root cellar, you can show him the room across from Mr. Burke.” She turned her attention back to Mother Garrett, who seemed overly preoccupied with frosting that cake. “Do I want to know what happened in the root cellar?” Emma prompted.
“That depends.”
Emma shut her eyes for a moment and prayed for patience, as well as the grace to accept another lesson in humility now that Mother Garrett had apparently been proven right. Again. “That depends on what?”
“On whether or not you want a full accounting now or if you’re willing to simply wait for the bill.”
“What bill?” Emma asked as she gathered up some cloths and a pail with fresh water so she could wipe up the blood spots in the upstairs hallway before anyone else noticed.
“The bill from the General Store you’re gonna have when I go down to see that nice Mr. Atkins and have him replace all the stores you lost to those critters.”
“All the stores? All of them?”
Mother Garrett licked a bit of frosting from her finger. “No, not all. Just most of them. What those chickens didn’t peck away, they ruined with their droppings,” her mother-in-law quipped. “Fortunately, I had the good sense to have Ditty bring up some stores to fill the larder the other day, or we’d be having one skimpy soup for supper tonight and not much to eat tomorrow.”
She paused and smiled. “I’m sure Mr. Atkins can get what’s ruined hauled away for you. Some farmer’s pigs will be mighty well fed. In the meantime, you might as well tell those poor folks in the root cellar not to bother trying to fix up another pen that won’t hold. Supper will be ready soon, and they need time to clean themselves up.”
Distracted by the sound of the bell at the front door, Emma glanced at her mother-in-law. “Now, who could that be? Surely Solomon and the Ammond brothers wouldn’t bother ringing the bell.”
Mother Garrett cocked her head, then smiled. “I believe that might be our supper guest, but don’t bother yourself. Judith will probably answer the bell. She’s in the parlor with Reverend Glenn.”
“Supper guest?” Emma shook her head. “I didn’t invite anyone to supper.”
“Oh, I did.”
“You did?”
“I did, but I guess I just forgot about it until now, what with all the commotion of people moving out and that business in the root cellar. I’d better get Liesel to set another place at the table as soon as she gets back downstairs.”
Emma hauled the pail of water to the doorway, set it down, and checked the water on the stove, which had yet to warm sufficiently. “When did you invite someone to supper?”
“When Frances and I were in town this morning.”
Emma sighed. Between cleaning all day and getting the Burkes settled into their new rooms, she had not had a moment to herself to even think about freshening up for supper, let alone entertaining yet another guest. “I hope you didn’t invite Mr. Atkins,” she countered. “I’m sure he was pestered enough this morning when you and Aunt Frances went into town.”
Mother Garrett stopped frosting the cake and held her frosting knife in midair. “Pestered? Did you say we pestered the man?”
“About getting married,” Emma replied as she heard the front door open. “In between errands and spreading news about the panther, I imagine the two of you made some time to stop at the General Store. You were matchmaking again, weren’t you?”
“Perhaps,” Mother Garrett admitted as she spread another bit of frosting on the cake. “But we’re not ready yet to make a match for him. Frances and I still can’t agree on which young lady might su
it him best. We’re still working on that. So no, it’s not Mr. Atkins we’ve got in mind. Not today.”
Emma picked up the pail of water and grabbed the cleaning cloths with her other hand. “Then who’s coming to supper? Who’s the poor soul you’re matchmaking for this time?”
“I never said—”
“Who?”
“Mr. Breckenwith.”
Emma nearly dropped the pail of water. “M-my lawyer? Your . . . your matchmaking involves my . . . my lawyer? You actually went to his home and invited him to supper?”
Mother Garrett looked up, locked her gaze with Emma’s, and grinned. “Frances and I didn’t go to his home. We met him at the General Store, where he was ordering some supplies. He mentioned seeing you in town yesterday and said he’d probably be meeting with you soon. I merely told him that I was sure you’d want me to invite him to supper so you could meet with him afterward.”
“I never said any such thing!”
“You never mentioned he wanted to meet with you when you said you’d seen him in town, either,” Mother Garrett countered, “but I’ll set that matter aside for now. That poor man has taken in so many folks, he’s scarcely got any room for himself in that house of his, and word in town has it that the housekeeper he hired can’t keep her thoughts to herself for more than a minute. He deserves a good meal he can eat in peace for a change. Besides, that man is taking so long to get serious about courting you, Frances and I decided he needed a good old-fashioned nudge in the right direction. We figured if we started now, the man would be ready to court you seriously by spring. And a spring suitor is the finest of them all, if you’ll recall what I told you just the other day.”
“You . . . you can’t be serious. You—”
“Don’t bother arguing with me or sputtering some nonsense about you not being interested in the man, either,” Mother Garrett argued with a wave of her frosting knife. “I’m old but I’m not blind, and neither is Frances. We watched that man and the way he looked at you for months, starting when Frances came to stay with us last fall. And we saw you looking back at him the same way. Then right after Frances left to spend the winter with her sons, he had to go to his aunt, bless her soul, and then handle her affairs after she passed. And you started moping about and daydreaming. I think you’re lovesick, Emma. Just plain lovesick. You’ve just forgotten what that feels like.”
Mother Garrett shook her head. “And it’s getting worse, even with the fire and all the upset here at home. Seems to us you two needed someone to step in with a bit of matchmaking to help things along. Now, if we’re wrong,” she added, “just say so.”
Emma blinked hard, unable to decide whether to laugh or to cry. Though she was admittedly frustrated by her own growing interest in Zachary Breckenwith as a suitor, Mother Garrett was wrong. Emma had not been moping about or daydreaming because she was lovesick. She had simply been scared that everything she had worked so hard to achieve here at Hill House had been for naught, and there was nothing she could do except wait for the owner of Hill House to arrive and resolve her situation, one way or the other.
Keeping the matter secret from Mother Garrett and everyone else who called Hill House their home had worried her, and now it had come back to haunt her in a way she could have scarcely imagined. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the pot of water on the stove had begun to boil, an odd reminder of the state of her own affairs.
“You know me very well,” she began, “but—”
“I should,” Mother Garrett murmured as she set her frosting knife down and wiped her hands on her apron. “We’ve lived together for thirty years or so.” She sighed. “We used to sit and talk all the time, just the two of us, but these days there never seems to be any time to do that, and I’m not just talking about the past week or so since the fire.”
Emma swallowed hard. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that . . . Maybe . . . maybe we could sit down together later tonight. Just the two of us,” she offered, certain that keeping this secret from her mother-in-law had been a mistake.
“I’d like that,” Mother Garrett whispered with a smile. “Now go on. Go back upstairs, clean up whatever it is that needs it. I’ll send Liesel up with Mr. Burke’s water. You just fix yourself up real pretty. But don’t take too much time. It’s not polite to keep a gentleman caller waiting too long.”
Emma nodded and marched herself upstairs to the east hallway. When she got down on her hands and knees and started wiping up blood from the floor, the water turned red, not brown, proving her assumptions correct.
Oddly, however, while she worked her way down the hallway, her mind shuttered out all worries about the bothersome Burkes, the rebellious chickens, the rogue panther, two meddlesome but lovable elderly women, and the elusive owner of Hill House. Instead, her mind’s eye searched through her limited wardrobe so she could decide what to wear to supper with Zachary Breckenwith.
Fancy that.
16
TIME. SO LITTLE TIME!
To save time, the moment Emma finished wiping down the upstairs hallway, she stored the pail of dirty water and cleaning cloths in a corner of her bedroom instead of taking them all the way downstairs. She quickly changed into her favorite woolen gown. With a delicate lace collar, long sleeves, and slim skirts, the deep green wool and simple lines of the gown complemented her pale coloring and slender figure.
She did take the time to rebraid her hair, coil it at the nape of her neck, and hold it in place with a tortoiseshell comb that had belonged to her mother.
Before going downstairs to join the others for supper, she ventured one final glance in the mirror. Her hair and gown looked fine. Her dark blue eyes were clear but perhaps a bit too bright. Whether the flush on her cheeks was from embarrassment at facing Zachary Breckenwith, who assumed she had invited him to supper, or from anticipation at seeing him again was a question she could not answer.
Without the luxury of time to ponder the matter, she took a fringed shawl from the trunk at the foot of her bed and draped it around her shoulders when a sudden thought quieted her racing heartbeat.
Other than Emma, Mother Garrett and Aunt Frances were the only ones who knew that Zachary Breckenwith had been invited to supper as part of the older women’s matchmaking scheme.
For his part, hopefully, Zachary Breckenwith should not suspect a thing. Coming to Hill House to meet with Emma to discuss legal or financial matters was nothing out of the ordinary. He had also mentioned wanting to meet with her soon, although he had specifically said he wanted them to meet to discuss more personal issues—a point of fact Emma had not mentioned to her mother-in-law for obvious reasons.
Given the fact that he had moved into his office to accommodate the many townspeople who were living temporarily in his home, meeting with her here, instead of at his office, did make perfect sense, and since he had told Mother Garrett he wanted to meet with Emma, she could only assume, and hope, he actually had business to discuss with her.
For her part, Emma could take this opportunity to ask his advice about properties she might want to investigate in the meantime, which she had already promised to do, should she be forced to find somewhere else to live.
She took a deep breath and smiled as she opened her bedroom door. For now, despite Mother Garrett’s and Aunt Frances’s intentions, Emma would simply act as if having Zachary Breckenwith here as her lawyer was nothing out of the ordinary. After supper, to reinforce that very notion, she would ask him to meet privately with her in her office, rather than adjourn to one of the front parlors with the others.
Problem solved.
She was ready to shut her bedroom door behind her when she remembered that she had yet to remove Orralynne’s soiled gown and cleaning supplies from her office. Retracing her steps, she returned to her room. She used the private staircase that led from her bedroom to her office to retrieve what she had forgotten to remove and carried it all back to her room, where she stored it in the corner next to the pail of water and cloths
she had used to wipe up the hallway.
To add credence to her plan, she gathered up her guest register and the sample book Mr. Lewis had given to her and took them back down to her office, where she laid them on top of her desk. Satisfied with her efforts, she paused for a moment to catch her breath before making her way from her office, through the library, and out into the center hallway. She peeked into the dining room and saw Liesel setting plates of molasses cookies on either side of the frosted cake already sitting on the sideboard.
The young woman hurried toward her, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’m so glad you’re downstairs,” she gushed. “Mother Garrett said she couldn’t hold supper much longer. It’s getting late. She wanted me to check on you once I set out the cookies.”
“You can tell Mother Garrett that I’m downstairs now, and I’ll announce supper and bring everyone to the dining room. What about the Burkes? Have their supper trays been taken upstairs?”
“Not yet. I’m going to do that next.”
“You shouldn’t have any trouble this time,” Emma offered, fairly certain Orralynne would not create a disturbance.
Liesel nodded, then looked at Emma with a good bit of a twinkle in her eye. “You look right pretty tonight, Widow Garrett,” she whispered before grinning and scampering back to the kitchen.
Emma shook her head and dismissed the notion that Liesel believed her employer had taken extra pains with her appearance tonight because of Zachary Breckenwith as ludicrous. Purely ludicrous.
Unless Mother Garrett’s and Aunt Frances’s matchmaking plot had been discovered by Liesel and probably Ditty, as well.
The moment Emma entered the parlor, all conversation stopped. Reverend Glenn and Aunt Frances each greeted her with a smile. Zachary Breckenwith, however, stood up to greet her, and her heart started to race. He was wearing a dark gray frock coat and looked particularly dashing tonight. Although she might consider his smile to be just a dimple past professional, his gaze and his demeanor were very lawyerly.