Pattern for Romance: Quilts of Love Series

by Carla J Gade

  Another boy saw it and laughed out, “Thimble-pie!”

  “Enough!” Joshua shouted. The startled children turned around with wide eyes. As the boys and girls stepped back, Joshua’s stern gaze dropped to see Temperance tottering on a small one-pegged stool with tears flowing down her cheeks.

  “I had to put her on the unipod, she was caught with something that didn’t belong to her,” Mrs. Hollister said.

  Joshua squatted down in front of Temperance, who sat balancing on the small one-legged stool. “Is that true?” It broke his heart to ask, but he had to settle this now.

  Temperance sniffled, wiping her tears with the palm of her hand. “Sally dropped her kerchief and I tried to hand it to her . . .” Sniffle. “But her brother said I stole it.”

  Joshua lifted Tempe to her feet and the stool toppled over. He pulled her to his side, and addressed Mrs. Hollister over the onlooking children. “Did you ask her why she had the kerchief?”

  “Uh, the consensus was . . .” Mrs. Hollister tumbled over her words and let out a huff.

  Joshua scanned the children’s faces—some ashamed, one crying, others pouting or frowning. He stared at Mrs. Hollister. “Let it be understood by all of you that Temperance Metcalf was attempting to do a kindness. Neither has her sister stolen anything as I am her witness.” Joshua took Tempe by the hand and they left the room.

  As they made their way to the front door, Mrs. Hollister chased after them. “Mr. Sutton, Mr. Sutton. Temperance, dear—”

  Joshua turned and faced Tempe’s schoolmistress. “She is done here. Good day, Mrs. Hollister. I believe you have some children who need attending to.”

  As Joshua and Tempe walked briskly down the path, Mrs. Hollister called out, “Make sure Miss Metcalf returns my fabric!”

  “Honour! You are awake!” Temperance ran to Honour’s outstretched arms. Pulling her close, she felt a tug in her belly, a small price to pay for the love and comfort of her little sister.

  Honour gently withdrew and took in Tempe’s sweet face. “You have been crying. Whatever is the matter?”

  Joshua entered the parlor and strode toward them, looking as handsome as she had dreamed. “She is all right now. A little matter at school, but it is all straightened out now.”

  He glanced down at her sister, and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Right, Tempe? We shall tell her about it later. The important thing is Honour is awake.”

  Joshua smiled at Honour. “How are you feeling? You had us all worried, you know.”

  “Aye. So your mother said. She has been so kind, taking good care of me. When she explained what happened to me I could hardly believe it.” How Honour managed to fall and sustain such injuries stupefied her. She should have taken more care. Worries of Tempe, her schooling, Honour’s employment, and their well-being beset her like the stiches of a carefully sewn quilt unraveling before her.

  “My head is still rather fuzzy, but overall I think I shall recover.” She hoped. Though the pain in her neck and head and everywhere else racked through her body.

  Joshua seemed to notice her strain to look up at him and knelt by her side. “I feared I might lose you before we even started our courtship.”

  Honour grinned. And blushed. “Why Mr. Sutton, you don’t expect to get out of it so easily do you?”

  She blushed some more. “You have caught me unawares and I haven’t even a fan to hide my blushing.”

  Temperance ran to a side table where she retrieved a small pierced wooden fan and handed it to Honour. “Here, Honour. Now you may blush properly.”

  Joshua chuckled. Honour started to laugh, but winced in pain, grasping her stomach. Her eyes closed and she took shallow breaths. When she opened them, Joshua and Tempe were looking at her with concern. “I am all right.”

  “Your wound?” Joshua asked.

  “Aye,” she said.

  Joshua squeezed her hand. “I am afraid it is my fault. Could you ever forgive me?”

  His hand felt cool, strong like a tailor. But his gentle tone and heartfelt appeal pricked her heart. “Joshua. This was nothing of your doing. Please, there is nothing to forgive.”

  Joshua nodded humbly.

  “Promise me you won’t dwell on it,” she entreated. She closed her eyes for a moment, still holding his hand.

  “You have my promise,” he said.

  Honour opened her eyes and smiled at Temperance, who was fanning her. Concern laced Tempe’s brow. “You look peaked and your brow is moist. Have you a fever?”

  “Mayhap a slight one, but I shall be all right. Mrs. Sutton informed me I might suffer one for a few days yet. It is part of the healing process until my humors are fully restored. But I dare say I find nothing humorous about it.” Honour’s lips curved to reassure her sister.

  Tempe grinned and continued her fanning ministrations.

  “Now tell me, Tempe, how has school been? Have you learned more commandments?”

  Tempe looked up at Joshua with a frown. “Thou shalt not bear false witness.” Honour suspected a secret was held there, but felt too weak to ask.

  “We should sue her,” Father said.

  “Whatever for?” Joshua asked, meeting his father’s glower.

  Father’s eyes narrowed. “She defaulted on your betrothal.”

  “Ha!” The sound escaped Joshua’s lips before he could stop it. “I beg to differ, Miss Guilford—”

  “Mrs. Leach, you mean,” his father interrupted.

  “Yes, Mrs. Leach, did not default anything. We were not yet betrothed. We merely had an understanding. Rather, our parents did,” Joshua said.

  “It was understood by both of our families for how many years?” Father asked.

  “Three.” Joshua sucked in a deep breath. “But that is neither here nor there. She chose the man she wanted to marry and that is that.” If, in fact, she truly did desire to marry him. Joshua couldn’t help but wonder if she might have been pressured into it.

  Father paced the floor. “I am attempting to salvage your reputation, Joshua. The circumstances of her hasty wedding have given rise to speculation.”

  “That’s most unfortunate for her. As you said it is only speculation, and based on nothing substantial,” Joshua said.

  Father cocked he head. “Time will tell.”

  “What do you mean by that? If you are implying—” Joshua shook his head in disbelief.

  “Surely you’ve heard the rumors, son. And now, they have come to my ears. Even worse, your mother’s.” Father grimaced.

  “I assure you there is no basis for them. Emily has always been the picture of propriety for as long as I have been acquainted with her. Simply because she is charming, does not mean she ever flaunted herself or acted indecently,” Joshua said.

  Father looked at Joshua in earnest. “She has never played the temptress? Tell me son and I will believe you.”

  Joshua raked his fingers through his hair. “Father, please assure Mother she must ignore the hearsay. I have never acted untoward to Emily . . . nor she to me. As for her relationship with Mr. Leach, I cannot discern her motivation, but I am certain she had her reasons. Can we not just accept it?”

  “I will tell your mother and do my best to put a halt to the rumors. But I must caution you given these uncertain times, you must strive to keep your reputation intact by every measure possible. These things affect our business relations. The citizens of this city are already up in arms over the constant looming of the redcoats, watching our every move. We cannot afford to fall under any suspicion the Suttons are any less than honorable in their pursuits.” His father straightened the knot of the stock at his neck. “Have I made myself clear?”

  Joshua stiffened. “Of course, sir.” But what would happen when word spread Honour Metcalf had been accused of stealing?

  9

  Her fever is rising.”

  The gravity in Dr. Westcott’s voice gave Joshua a sinking feeling in his gut. “What does it mean?”

  “I’m afraid she has
a serious infection which I am not sure can be controlled at this point. Her wound is festering and I’ve tried every poultice known to medicine. Yet . . . are you certain she has no family?”

  “She has me.” Mrs. Wadsworth, wiped her tears with the corner of a tatted handkerchief.

  Dr. Westcott turned to Honour’s employer and nodded. “You had best prepare the girl and make arrangements for her continued care. An almshouse perhaps?”

  “She’ll do nothing of the sort. She will live with me, as my own daughter,” Mrs. Wadsworth declared, and looked up at Joshua, entreating his approval.

  Joshua nodded. “It would please Honour to know that, but I’m not giving up on her yet.”

  The physician continued, his countenance grave, “I know it is hard to hear, Joshua, but you should prepare for the worst. I have seen soldiers die from less severe wounds. In all honesty, I am mystified how she remains alive.”

  Joshua couldn’t believe what he heard. How could this be God’s plan? He had finally found a woman he could give his heart to, and what? He was losing her when their relationship had so recently commenced? He squeezed his fist into a ball, willing away the doctor’s fate-filled words.

  Joshua gazed at the doctor, imploring him for a thread of optimism. “Yet there is hope?”

  “There is always hope. Her life is in the Lord’s hands. But the natural course of things often leads to—”

  Joshua strode from the parlor, slamming out the back door of the store.

  “No! No, no, no!” Tears streamed down his face and his vision blurred. He hung his head and prayed. Mighty Father, please allow her to live. Honour has so much to live for, so much to give. Temperance needs her . . . I need her. Oh, God, please. Suffer her not to die.

  A firm grip on his shoulder startled him out of his deep meditation.

  “Joshua.” The deep tenor of his father’s voice proffered comfort to his grieving heart. Then his father extended his other arm, and tugged Joshua into his embrace. “My son. You love her.”

  “Yes, Father. I do.”

  Honour reclined in a comfortable chair, enjoying the bright sun through the newly glazed window of Mrs. Wadsworth’s Mantua Shoppe. Everyone said it was a miracle she had lived; she had remarkable strength to pull through. And they gave praise to God, for His tender mercies. For His watchcare over her during her time of need.

  How was it that the Almighty One had seen fit to allow her to live, not only now, but when the ship was attacked? He had spared her life then also. It wasn’t as though she wanted to live, not without her Mum and Poppa and her brothers. But in God’s providence He spared her for Temperance’s sake. Then she recalled how Joshua had rescued her during the hailstorm. She had thrice survived. Oh, Lord in Heaven, thank you! I have been protesting when I should have been praising Thee.

  She took a tiny stitch as she worked on the last bit of quilting for Mrs. Lankton’s traveling suit—long project, finally drawing to completion. It was gratifying Mrs. Wadsworth allowed her to finish it in these remaining days of her convalescence. It would have been so disappointing not to complete it herself when she’d labored over it for so long. How good it felt to be sleeping in her own bed, under her own indigo quilt, snuggled beside her precious sister. A lump formed in Honour’s throat. It would have been awful if Tempe had lost her too. So much grief to bear for a young soul. But now Honour knew God would always watch over Tempe, as, in fact, He had been doing.

  Mrs. Wadsworth brought a tea tray and joined Honour at the window. “Here, dear. Why don’t you set that down and take a moment of respite.” Mrs. Wadsworth continued to fuss over her—mother her—and it touched her so. Mrs. Sutton had been the picture of grace and kindness. But Maisey . . . she had withdrawn from Honour, casting little more than an occasional glance her way. What had she done to offend Maisey?

  “I hear you have a picnic to attend on Saturday,” Mrs. Wadsworth said. “Temperance has been talking of it all day.”

  Honour took a sip of her hyperion tea. “Aye. I told her we would go, providing I continue to feel stronger. Joshua assured me of a restful and enjoyable time. He thought getting out would do me good after these past few weeks of being cooped up.”

  Mrs. Wadsworth peered at Honour over the rim of her teacup. “He has certainly been doting on you.”

  “He has. Quite a friend he has become.” Joshua had indeed been attentive to her. He also paid particular attention to Tempe, taking her on occasional outings since Mrs. Hollister had canceled school for a couple of weeks. Honour was glad of his watchcare as she was not comfortable with Tempe out on her own while British soldiers stalked about and occasional riots occurred in the streets. Tempe usually returned with a candy stick or piece of chocolate to share.

  “Friend? Is that all?” Mrs. Wadsworth asked, arching an eyebrow, and snapping Honour from her musings.

  Honour glanced down at the quilted fabric lying on her lap. “Aye. Nothing more.”

  Though Honour had grown exceedingly fond of Joshua and been keenly aware of his devotion to her, he’d made no declaration of anything more than friendship. Joshua remained the perfect gentleman, refuting any lingering fears of him ever being cavalier in his relationships with women.

  “I have been invited to the birthday picnic also,” Mrs. Wadsworth said. “It will do me good to go, but mostly I look forward to seeing you enjoy yourself.”

  “You are such a dear, Mrs. Wadsworth,” Honour said.

  Mrs. Wadsworth stood, smoothing her apron. “Now I must return to work after this refreshing visit.”

  “And I must finish this quilt. I expect to have it done before the day is through.” Honour smiled. How good it was to be occupied with a task she truly enjoyed and to be paid for it. The world looked brighter, she was grateful, and she was alive. Now if Joshua Sutton would notice her as the woman who was fast falling in love with him.

  Come Friday it occurred to Honour she had no gift for Joshua’s birthday. Without having to pay for Tempe’s dame school for a few weeks, mayhap she might afford a small trinket; something to show her appreciation to Joshua for all of his kindnesses to her and Tempe. Mrs. Wadsworth and Tempe agreed to accompany her to Greenleaf’s Mercantile where she had once admired a handsome carved wood needle case in the shape of a cod, so fitting for a Boston tailor. Mrs. Wadsworth had first protested, but Honour convinced her a brief outing to the nearby store would do her good.

  As Honour perused the wooden display trays at the mercantile, a silver thimble caught her eye. She picked it up under the watchful eye of Mr. Greenleaf. “Is there something wrong?”

  “This thimble reminds me of one I used to own, ’tis all.” She was sure of it. It was her own silver thimble, embossed with pomegranates and bearing her initials. The gift she received from her parents upon her last birthday at nineteen. Their final gift to her, save her new life in America, though she sometimes considered the latter as a burden.

  “You may purchase it for a guinea,” Mr. Greenleaf said.

  A guinea? It was worth so much more! Yet as much as it sickened her to lose it, she hadn’t the energy to endure another argument over her property. Nor did she wish to further risk her reputation, which was of more value, as her parents had taught her. “No, thank you, sir. Though I would like to purchase that needle case, the fish.”

  Tempe smiled with excitement. “Joshua will love it!”

  Honour peered down at her sister. “Joshua? Don’t you mean Mr. Sutton?”

  “He told me that I must call him Joshua, as his father is Mr. Sutton,” Tempe explained.

  “I see,” Honour said. He’d told her the same, so she supposed it was acceptable since it was at his request, though she preferred Temperance practice proper decorum.

  The storekeeper wrapped the needle case in a piece of old newsprint. “A fine choice. Is there anything else you need today?”

  Oh, yes, she thought. But she would restrain herself until she saved enough to redeem her thimble, providing no one else purchased it befo
re she had the opportunity to do so. No one would accuse her of stealing again. She scarcely believed she’d been accused in the first place.

  Honour handed Mr. Greenleaf her money and placed the trinket into her embroidered workbag. “Tempe, please tell Mrs. Wadsworth to take her time browsing, I am going to rest outside. Please stay here in case she needs assistance carrying her purchases.”

  Honour sat on the bench and took in a deep breath of the warm August air. She watched pedestrians amble down the street and occasional conveyances pass by, though nothing as elegant as the Sutton’s shiny carriage. From a distance, she made out Boston Common, dotted with hundreds of white tents belonging to the king’s soldiers. Then a woman’s high pitched voice caught her attention, mixed with the deep intonations of a man. Were they quarreling? She hoped the woman was safe.

  Honour followed the muffled voices to the alley between the mercantile and the adjacent building. She stood out of view, not wishing to presume too much or intrude on a private conversation. Suddenly, the din surrounding her quieted and the voices became clearer. Honour’s core bounded to attention upon hearing, “Mr. Sutton . . . you have it all wrong!”

  “Mr. Sutton now, is it?”

  “It is only proper. I am now a married woman.”

  The man’s voice cracked. “We were to marry. Why did you spoil our plans?”

  “I had no choice. My father has aligned himself with Tories and found favor with the Leach family. The connection will save his business. They required an immediate marriage. Please understand, I had to do my part. I could not bear to see my parents suffer any longer.”

  The man groaned. “Does he treat you well?”

  “Fairly.”

  “Do you love him?”

  “I shall in time.”

  The man’s voice became stilted. “Then I wish you the best. But please know this. I love you, Emily, and I always shall.”

  Honour peeked around the corner. The wounded suitor pushed the woman against the wall and placed an overlong kiss upon her married lips. Honour pivoted around lest she be caught spying. Her hand flew to her chest and she tried to ease her pounding heart. Heavy footsteps upon the brick path faded into the distance and the woman erupted in loud sobs.