by Kay Moser
“There’s no need to mention any of this to her.”
Sarah nodded and hurried to the library, but, rather than settling at the desk, she walked to the window and pondered the lives of the four very different older women she had come to know so recently. How was it possible that they could end up with such different lives? I wonder why Mrs. Bellows behaves the way she does. Is it just because Mr. Bellows is so mean? And what about Miss Victoria and Maude? Miss Victoria definitely triumphed over everyone who denied her the right to be herself. That was obvious. And Maude had used her brains to create the life she wanted.
Sarah watched as Mrs. Boyd let herself out the front gate. In a way, Mrs. Boyd was the most remarkable of all; she had created a place of peace and grace in spite of all obstacles. I know I could never be like Mrs. Boyd, but perhaps I could be more like Maude or even Miss Victoria. I must be like one of them. I don’t want to be like Mrs. Bellows or to have Mother’s life!
CHAPTER 21
When Sarah stood up to speak to the literary society, her sight blurred, her mouth went dry, and she felt that every draft of air had fled her lungs. For one horrific moment, she could not think of a single word to say about Wordsworth or indeed on any topic.
From somewhere in the circle of ladies surrounding her, she heard a discreet cough. Her eyes flew to the source of the sound and found Mrs. Boyd’s serene, confident gaze. Sarah remembered the last words the lady had murmured to her: “God has given you great gifts, Sarah. I will be praying for you.”
Next to Mrs. Boyd, leaning forward with her eyes riveted on Sarah, Miss Victoria sat at attention. She caught Sarah’s eye and saluted her with a quick, confident nod that reminded Sarah of her mentor’s verbal encouragement. “Maude says you are the strongest student she has ever encountered. Now go be who you are, Sarah.”
Sarah’s head cleared. It’s not about me. It’s about my future students. She picked up the folder she had prepared for her presentation and began to read the first lines of “Tintern Abbey.” When she finished, she prepared her audience for the focal point of her talk.
“As beautiful as these lines are, they are not the great gift of this poem. As you will see, Wordsworth’s purpose is to teach us that a remembered relationship with nature is of greater value than the present-moment experience. We can actually store the peace and understanding we receive from a specific moment in nature and bring it back to mind when we are in difficult circumstances.”
Sarah’s natural gift for teaching took over, and without a single flare-up of nervousness, she moved her audience through the remainder of the poem, skillfully relating it to their lives. When she finished speaking, she was startled out of her own fervor by enthusiastic clapping. She darted a hasty glance at Miss Victoria and was thrilled to find her mentor’s green eyes sparkling above her wide smile. Next to her, Mrs. Boyd beamed as she applauded.
“Now that’s what I call an intellectual presentation!” Josephine Schmidt declared.
“Excellent!” Theodora Benton agreed.
“It was lovely, Sarah,” Clementine Drift cooed. “The poem was very pretty. But what does it mean?”
“She just told you, Clementine!” Josephine declared. “Weren’t you listening?”
“It means we are more than merely physical creatures,” Theodora said.
“Well, we already knew that!” Mrs. Proper snorted. “We have souls.”
“We also have minds, Mrs. Proper.” Josephine raised her voice. “And our minds can remember and recreate experiences.”
“That’s all very well for a man, I suppose,” Fanny Sharp said, “but a true lady—”
“The poem is for us women too!” Theodora raised her voice. “For heaven’s sake, Wordsworth is speaking to his sister Dorothy. He’s teaching her that she can use her mind in ways she’s never thought of.”
“But should she?” Mrs. Proper demanded.
Fanny Sharp shook her head. “Just because we can doesn’t mean we should.”
Sarah flinched at the vehemence of the comments, but Mrs. Boyd rose, hugged Sarah, and whispered in her ear. “Perfect job, Sarah.”
“I couldn’t have done any of it without Lavinia.”
“You two make a great team.”
“Are you sure? Their questions—”
“Don’t be alarmed by their disagreement. That’s the purpose of the club, to encourage discussion and challenge our established way of thinking.” Turning to the ladies, she asked, “Does anyone have any questions for Sarah or Lavinia?”
“I do! Have you ever actually had such an experience, Sarah?” Margie Cook asked.
“Goodness, I should hope not!” Agnes Proper pursed her lips. “Most unseemly behavior for a girl.”
“I hope she has”—Josephine Watson stared daggers at Mrs. Proper—“because I want to.”
“You would, Josephine!”
Sarah jumped in to calm the situation. “I love roaming the woods, and I could sit overlooking the river all day.”
“Without some sewing or something to occupy your mind?” Clementine Drift asked.
“Beauty is occupying her mind,” Miss Victoria asserted. “Nothing is more healing than contemplation of natural beauty.”
“And those times refresh us for our family and household duties,” Mrs. Boyd added.
“But what about using memories of nature when you’re experiencing difficult times,” Lavinia asked, “like Wordsworth did? That’s what I’d love to learn to do.”
“I’ve never actually tried it,” Sarah admitted. “But I’m going to.”
“Waste of time,” Louise Proper said.
“Not at all,” Miss Victoria insisted. “Sarah and Lavinia have not yet encountered the life experiences that cause us to despair, but they will.”
“And when they do,” Mrs. Boyd said, “they will have this tool that Wordsworth shares with his sister and with us.”
“I would have gone mad during the War if I had not diverted my attention,” Ruth Logan mused. “I quilted every scrap of cloth I could find.”
“Maybe we are doing what Wordsworth says when we focus real hard on our quilting or crocheting,” Margie Cook suggested.
“Well, at least we get something done that way.” Fanny Sharp sniffed. “Staring at the river is a waste of time.”
“I don’t agree,” Ruth Logan said. “I think staying busy is helpful in difficult times, but maybe contemplating nature, whether we’re actually in the woods or just remembering a special time there, could do more for us than quilting.”
“I’ve never tried thinking about nature when I’m upset,” Clementine Drift admitted.
“But you could,” Lavinia suggested. “We all could.”
“Yes, we could,” Margie Cook agreed as others nodded.
“And why shouldn’t we?” Clementine Drift asked.
“We should use every gift God gives us,” Mrs. Boyd observed. “And nature is definitely a gift from God.”
“I agree,” Margie Cook said. “I’m glad we are studying this poem. Thank you, Sarah and Lavinia, for inspiring us in this way. I have to admit I didn’t think I could learn anything from you because ... well ... because you’re just a farm girl. But I was wrong about that.”
Miss Victoria smiled at Mrs. Cook. “We’re learning a good many things today, ladies, and one of them is not to underestimate females, no matter what station of life they occupy.”
“I’m going to rethink the way I’m educating my Lucy,” Mrs. Cook declared. “Maybe she could ... well ... maybe she could become whatever she wants.”
A thrill ran through Sarah.
“And maybe it’s all just poppycock,” Mrs. Proper added. “Educating girls and pretending nature is more than it is.”
“Maybe it’s not,” Josephine Schmidt challenged. “I dare you to give it a try, Louise!”
“Well, ladies.” Mrs. Boyd hurriedly took control. “What a stimulating discussion we’ve had, thanks to Sarah’s presentation, and I’ve no doubt we’ll all
consider applying Wordsworth’s concepts regarding the helpfulness of nature during our times of trouble. Before we take a break for tea, let’s give Sarah and Lavinia another round of applause for their excellent work.”
I did it! I did it! Sarah’s heart bumped wildly as the ladies, with the exception of Mrs. Proper, applauded.
“I’m so proud of you!” Miss Victoria declared as she hugged Sarah. “Your presentation was brilliant.”
“I’ve never heard anyone explain that poem that way,” Ruth Logan said. “How on earth did you come up with it?”
“I just read it over and over very slowly, and finally, I decided Wordsworth was showing us a way to live. It was all there really, right in the words. Of course, Lavinia helped me understand the actual words.”
“But Sarah figured out what Wordsworth was saying to us. I didn’t understand the poem as a whole at all,” Lavinia insisted.
Sarah ducked her head. “I was kind of nervous about sharing my own thoughts, but when I showed my paper to General Gibbes, he made me promise not to change a word.”
“General Gibbes read your paper?” Mrs. Proper demanded. “Why on earth would he do that?”
“General Gibbes knows a good thing when he sees it,” Miss Victoria answered for Sarah. “That’s why he has employed Sarah to help him write his memoir.”
Louise Proper and Fanny Sharp exchanged startled glances.
“Shall we have tea, ladies?” Mrs. Boyd asked.
***
For several cold, icy weeks the household fell into a steady, soothing rhythm as Sarah spent her weekdays and nights at Hodges House studying and helping General Gibbes with his memoir. Miss Victoria impatiently planned the front garden, running outside at the slightest show of sun to stake off beds and making sketches when confined to the house.
At the end of January, Maude paid them a visit, arriving on the last train from Fort Worth.
When Miss Victoria and Mr. Hayden came down to breakfast the next morning, they found Maude and Sarah racing in from their outdoor exercise.
“Sit down, Sarah,” Miss Victoria insisted. “And have some breakfast. You’re going to need it. No doubt Maude has big plans for you.”
“Indeed I do!” Maude agreed. “In fact, while you were lazing around upstairs, Sarah and I have already begun. We’ve finished our morning exercise, and Sarah has read Act I of Hamlet.”
Mr. Hayden died laughing. “Maude, you have already inflicted Hamlet on the poor girl this early in the morning? How could you? And when did she have time to read with all that running you were making her do?”
Maude drew herself up as if she were miffed. “For your information, Mr. Hodges, I am in complete agreement with the Greeks who insisted that a strong mind must have—”
“Where is he?” a female voice shouted from the hallway.
“You go on home now,” Frances answered. “They’s having breakfast, and you don’t look like you—”
“I insist on talking to Mr. Hodges. I know he’s here with that woman.” Mrs. Bellows lurched into the dining room just as Mr. Hayden rose from his chair. “Mr. Hodges! Thank God you’re here. You have a right to know what’s going on when your back is turned. You poor man!”
“Mrs. Bellows!” Miss Victoria was clearly startled, but she managed to stand and adopt an inviting tone. “Please, won’t you sit down and—”
“That woman you married is making an absolute fool of you,” Mrs. Bellows cried as she staggered toward Mr. Hayden. “What would your poor mother say if she could see the goings on here in her house? Oh, it’s terrible!” She flung herself at Mr. Hayden, who managed to lower her into his chair before she slid to the floor.
“Mrs. Bellows, clearly you’re not well.” Miss Victoria hurried to her side.
“Clearly, she’s had too much to drink,” Maude blurted out. “Step away from her, Tory. I’ll handle this.”
“You are wrong, Maude!” Miss Victoria snapped. “Mrs. Bellows has been ill recently. She is ill! Do you understand me?”
“I am not ill!” Mrs. Bellows shouted at her. “I have my Christian duty to perform, and anyone in this town will tell you I’m the first one to do my Christian duty.” She planted her elbows on the table and heaved herself up. “Get away from me, you hussy!” She shoved Miss Victoria backward, causing her to trip on her skirt and fall to the floor.
Sarah leapt from her chair to help Miss Victoria as Mr. Hayden pulled Mrs. Bellows back into the chair. Mrs. Bellows did not miss a beat in her ranting. “I know about women like you! I know how you ruin marriages with your filthy—”
“That will do, Mrs. Bellows!” Mr. Hayden commanded. “Be quiet this instant!”
Mrs. Bellows stared up at him, her eyes growing wider with the birth of fear, her lips quivering.
“She needs coffee.” Maude marched into action and headed for the silver coffeepot on the sideboard.
“Don’t hit me!” Mrs. Bellows whined.
“Hit you?” Mr. Hayden was clearly stunned. He reached for Mrs. Bellows’ hand. “Why would you think I’m going to—”
Mrs. Bellows snatched her hand back and started sobbing hysterically.
“Don’t say any more, please, Hayden,” Miss Victoria pleaded. “And don’t touch her. Just leave her alone and let Maude help her.”
“Victoria, what is going on?” Mr. Hayden demanded. “We’re just sitting here having a cheerful breakfast and—”
Mrs. Bellows’ sobs grew louder, and Sarah’s heart ached for her.
“Please, Hayden! Can’t you see she’s afraid?”
“But why?”
“I don’t know! Just step away from her, and let Maude help her.”
Mr. Hayden walked away from the table, and Maude rushed to Mrs. Bellows’ side. “Now, let’s calm down and have some coffee,” she cooed. Mrs. Bellows took one look at the sturdy stranger and buried her face in Maude’s waist and wailed.
“Frances, send Sam for Mr. Bellows at once,” Miss Victoria ordered.
“And send for Dr. Shockley,” Mr. Hayden added.
“No!” Miss Victoria objected. “Not the doctor.”
“Why not?”
“She’ll be fine once we get a little coffee in her.” She turned to Frances. “Get Sam on his way, and tell him not to talk to anyone about this.”
“Yes, ma’am, don’t you worry about that. Didn’t none of us tell a soul last time.” Frances hurried out.
Miss Victoria avoided looking at Mr. Hayden.
“Last time? Has this happened before?” Mr. Hayden demanded.
“What does that matter?” Miss Victoria asked.
“It matters a lot to me! I won’t have someone coming into my house and berating my wife. Has this happened before?”
“Can’t we just deal with the present?”
“No, we can’t! I want to know—”
Mrs. Bellows slumped forward, sending china skidding across the table.
“She’s passed out,” Maude said. “Out cold. I can’t get any coffee into her now. We need to get her stretched out on the settee. Come help me, Sarah. You take that side of her, and I’ll get this one.”
“Stop! Everybody just stop,” Mr. Hayden commanded. “This has happened before, hasn’t it?”
“Once or twice,” Miss Victoria conceded. “Now will you help us get Mrs. Bellows into the parlor?”
He sighed angrily. “Move aside.” He positioned himself to lift the heavy woman. “Maude, you better stand ready to help.”
It was a struggle, but he managed to pick the heavy woman up and stagger across the room with her. In the parlor, Maude helped him settle Mrs. Bellows onto the settee. He checked her pulse before standing up.
“She needs a doctor,” he announced. “Sarah, tell Delphie to go get Dr. Shockley.”
“Hayden, that’s not a good idea,” Miss Victoria objected. “We must not cause her more trouble ... what will Mr. Bellows say?”
“I don’t care what he says, Victoria. This has to stop.”
> “But he’s the cause of her problem!” Miss Victoria’s voice rose. “If he’s embarrassed publicly, things will only get worse for her.”
“We can’t fix this, Victoria. I know you mean well, but you can’t fix every problem in the world. Some things can’t be fixed.”
“But Hayden—”
“Go, Sarah!”
Sarah raced out of the room and sent Delphie on her errand. When she returned, the parlor was icy with silence. Mr. Hayden had turned away from the women and stood looking out the window with arms crossed. Miss Victoria’s chin was lifted and her eyes were narrowed as she sat rigidly straight in a chair. And Maude hovered over Mrs. Bellows, trying to bring her back to consciousness.
Sarah was totally baffled about what to do next. She stood next to the door like a sentry on guard duty as the mantle clock ticked away the long minutes. When Sarah felt sure the pressure-cooker room would explode, Mr. Hayden announced; “Here comes Bellows!” He whipped around to confront Miss Victoria who had jumped from her chair.
“You stay here!” he ordered. “All of you. Just stay here.” He stalked out of the room to wait on the verandah.
“Who does he think he is?” Miss Victoria demanded. “What does he think I am? A child?”
“Clearly, she needs help, Tory. I doubt she’s just sneaking a little sherry off and on.”
“I’m sure Mr. Bellows will take the necessary steps. You know—clear the alcohol out of the house, that sort of thing. There was no need for Hayden to call the doctor in. He’s just overreacting!”
A pang of guilt surprised Sarah. Should I mention the silver flask I found or describe the Bellows’ relationship? Sarah felt physically sick and hurried toward a chair.
“What’s wrong, Sarah?” Miss Victoria demanded.
“I don’t feel well.”
“Too much of a shock for her,” Maude concluded.
Miss Victoria studied Sarah. “No, Sarah’s not that easily shocked.” She walked over and took Sarah’s hand. “What is it? Tell me.”
“It’s private … I don’t know—”
“If it will help Mrs. Bellows, Sarah, you need to tell us.”
Sarah nodded, swallowed hard. “She has a silver bottle in her lingerie drawer; it smells funny. You know, like she smells right now.”