by Nancy Moser
“Easy? Surely you jest.”
“How many housemaids get the chance to work at Macy’s?”
“A few, I suspect.”
“How many discover they have a hidden talent and get a chance to use it at a great company like Butterick?”
“Fewer.”
“And how many get the chance to design their own fashion and open up their very own store?”
“I see your point.”
Henrietta held up a hand. “How many housemaids get to marry a man who adores them and get to be the mother of a child who will be brought up surrounded by people who love them?”
Annie let her frustration fall into puddles of foolishness on the floor.
“How many people get to live their lives knowing that God has them where He wants them?”
Annie put a hand on her forehead, hiding her shame. Forgive me, Lord. “You’re right. One hundred percent right.” She held out her hand and Henrietta clasped it. “I would not want to go back to being a maid. I am where I am supposed to be. It’s just that sometimes I feel He’s trusting me too much.”
“He will not give us more than we can handle.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
Annie felt better. But then she had a thought. “I do believe God also has you where He wants you. Yes?”
Henrietta smoothed Annie’s covers. “Steven is remarkable.”
“He is, but he’s just part of the plan.”
Henrietta stood then paced in front of the bedroom door. “I lived a life of no responsibility.”
“You did not have to work. You were the daughter of a viscount.”
“Although I occasionally helped in the mercantile, listened when my mother tried to teach me how to be a good wife, and reluctantly learned how to play the piano enough to impress guests, I had no true purpose. Each day I awakened without enthusiasm, for one day was like the last, which was like the next.” She stopped pacing and shook her head. “That is no way to live—or live fully. Beyond the parties and pretty dresses I drowned in complete and utter boredom.”
Annie was surprised to hear it. She’d always thought Henrietta’s life was free of stress, and free of need and longing. “You are not bored now.”
“Not at all. In fact, I’m rather proud of myself. I came here on my own—a frightening but satisfying experience. I’ve let my own flat and can now make my own fire and deal with my own personal needs—though I still need Gert to unbutton me. I vow I will never buy a dress with back buttons again.”
Annie had to laugh. “And now you are doing the books for us.”
“You discovered you had an aptitude for design? I guess I have one for math.” Henrietta sat on the bed again. “Neither one of us could have guessed what our lives would become, but I dare say neither one of us would change anything, would we?”
“We would not.”
“God is good.”
“And He knows best.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Henrietta sat at the small table in her flat in front of the newly created ledger for Unruffled. It had been two weeks since she had taken over the financial accounting from Annie, and she felt satisfied with the system she had created. But there was work to be done this Saturday morning. New bills lay before her for counters, racks, hangers, shelves, mannequins, and various accessory stands for the front window.
“I wish I could help.” Gert stood at the door, putting on her coat. “But I’m lucky to add two plus two right.”
“I can add, but I’m not highly skilled at sewing,” Henrietta said. “And Annie has made her preference known. I am not to help sew right now as the final finishes of the dresses need finesse. So off with you. I will check in at the store later on.”
As soon as Gert left, Henrietta heard a familiar voice in the hall. With a single knock, Steven came in, his smile wide. “Best of the morning to you, dear Etta. How would you like to spend our Saturday?”
She enjoyed his pet name for her—the same name her family used. “What I’d like is not the same as what I must do. I really must get these bills paid.”
He kissed her cheek before sitting at the table. He perused a few bills. “There are so many.”
“I hope not too many,” Henrietta said.
“The Sampsons have promised perpetual funding.”
“They have, and they have been generous. Which is why I hope there’s enough to cover the expenses. I don’t wish to ask for more.”
Steven rotated the ledger so he could see it better.
“How does it look?”
He turned it back. “Very neatly done. You have beautiful penmanship.”
She laughed. “Spoken like a schoolteacher. My question was in regard to the accounting, not the neatness of the entries.”
“I teach English. I know very little about debits and credits, and…”
“And?”
“I am impressed that you do.”
Was there an insult in his words? “I may be a woman, but I am educated.”
“I mean no offense, dear lady. It’s just that you, being from the aristocracy…”
“So we have no reason to learn?”
The look on his face was pathetic, as if he wished he could take back all he had said. She took pity on him and put her hand on his. “Take ease. I know you do not mean to offend.”
He let out a breath of relief. “Did you attend school or were you taught at home?”
“Both. When I was small, a school was started in Summerfield by two family members. Miss Tilda and Miss Beth were my first teachers. As I grew older my parents hired a tutor for me. My brother was sent away to school.”
Steven shook his head. “I know it was the norm not to let girls go to formal school beyond the basics, but I am against it.”
“Do you have girls in your school?”
“I do. But alas, the number of girls going into secondary and upper grades still lags behind the boys.”
“So in your opinion, the gentler sex has equal capacity to learn?” She grinned.
“You are goading me, but yes, of course.” He pointed to the ledger. “Your tutor taught you bookkeeping?”
“My nana did, and my mother. Helping at the family mercantile gave me the knowledge I need to do this work.”
“Did you ever think you would use it like this?”
“Never,” she said, getting ready to write a check for the mannequins. “I came to America to find Annie and hoped she would sweep me up into a whirlwind of purpose.”
“It appears she’s done just that.”
“Indeed she has, and as such I am eternally grateful.”
“I’m sure your family would be pleased to see how you are applying what they taught.”
The thought of family caused a wave of melancholy to swirl around her.
“You miss them, don’t you?” he asked.
“Very much.”
“Perhaps they will come for a visit?”
“Why would they? I disappointed them by not living the life they’d planned for me.”
“But it’s your life to live, not theirs.”
It was complicated. “Because of my father’s title there are expectations and responsibilities. I disregarded all of that to do what I wanted to do.” The melancholy grew heavier. “I was selfish.”
“Do you regret coming here?”
She heard his unspoken Meeting me? and gave him a reassuring smile. “Of course not. Although I have been surprised and upturned by many of the details of my life here, I feel fuller for it. Does that make sense?”
He drew her close across the table so he could kiss her. “Completely.”
The love she felt for Steven validated her choice more than any sense of purpose brought about through Unruffled. She wanted to tell him that he was her purpose—because her feelings were that strong—but didn’t dare just yet. Although she had shown a streak of rebellion in her nature by leaving home, she still believed that a man should be the first to d
eclare his love.
“Wouldn’t it be marvelous if they did come and visit you here?”
“They wouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because they have duties at home. Because I’ve told them I am well and have assured them there is no reason for worry.”
“They’ll accept that?”
“They have accepted it. I have been here nearly six weeks, with a week of travel before that. They have accepted my absence.” Her voice caught in her throat.
His face showed his compassion. “As I said, they would be proud of you.”
Perhaps. Henrietta needed to change the subject. “Enough about me. How are your students faring?”
“Since we are reading The Last of the Mohicans they are faring quite well. Fighting and soldiers, damsels in distress…”
“I have not read that one.”
“It’s very American, set in the 1750s during the French and Indian War.”
“I believe we call it the Seven Years’ War.”
“Really?”
“Surely you knew that.”
He grinned. “I believe I did.”
“So…the story is set before you fought us.” It felt good to push the melancholy fully away with teasing.
“Us? Yes. You. The British.”
“Considering where I am right now, who I’m with right now, I am glad you won that skirmish.”
He laughed. “How revolutionary of you, Miss Kidd.”
There was a knock on the door and Steven answered it.
The sight of the younger Mr. Cohen caused Henrietta to rise. “Mr. Cohen?”
“Good day, Miss Kidd.”
“Come in, please. Have a seat.”
“I can’t stay long,” he said. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Holmquist.”
“And you, sir.”
“How are you feeling?” Henrietta asked. “And your brother?”
“We are well recovered.” His smile hid behind his beard, and his dark eyes sparkled. “Very well recovered.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
He removed a drawstring bag from his coat pocket. “I believe these are yours.”
She opened the bag, saw inside, then dropped the contents on the table. “My bracelet? The earrings.” She examined them. They appeared in perfect condition.
“So the thief has been caught?” Steven asked.
“He has. He had a satchel of jewelry and was trying to pawn them. He’ll be in jail a long time, not only for the theft but also for the injuries he inflicted on my brother and me.”
“So your inventory was recovered too?”
“Each piece.” He grinned again. “Adoni tov v’salach. God is good and forgiving.”
“Indeed He is.” Henrietta had a disconcerting thought. “Will I have to speak against the man?”
“I don’t think so. There is enough against him without your testimony.”
It was a relief. “Thank you for bringing these back to me. They were my great-grandmother’s.”
“As you said during your visit.”
“She was the Countess of Summerfield. She still lives on the estate.”
He glanced around the shabby flat. “A countess, you say?”
She nodded, embarrassed for trying to impress him. Americans did love nobility.
“Which makes you…?”
She put a stop to what she had started. “Very grateful.” She shook his hand. “Thank you for bringing them back to me, Mr. Cohen. Please greet your brother.”
“Feel free to come and visit at any time. And if you ever do wish to sell…”
She shook her head. “I will keep my heirlooms heirlooms.” She gave him her best smile, which he returned.
“Good day to you, Miss Kidd.”
She closed the door and returned to her work at the table. “It’s good to see him and a relief to have the jewelry returned, but I’m angry at myself.”
“Why?”
“For bringing up the countess title. Since I’m in America I should try to fit in, not set myself apart.”
Steven took a seat and eyed the jewelry. Something seemed to be bothering him.
“If I offended you by the mention, I apologize.”
“Offend? Never.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
He pointed at the jewelry, though seemed to make a point of not touching the stones. “I could never give you jewels like that.”
He implies a future together! “I don’t want jewels like that.”
“But you’ve grown up with such beautiful things. I am but a teacher. I…”
She touched his cheek and forced him to look into her eyes. “I am but a woman. You give me something that is more precious than jewels.”
She let her kiss speak for her.
Annie checked the fit on a model. “I do believe this size fits you better, Jane.”
“I do too. It’s lovely, Annie.”
“You look lovely in it.”
The workshop was abuzz with activity as the twelve models who had shown fashion at the Sampsons had all eagerly returned to be a part of the street fashion show.
“My turn in front of the mirror.”
Annie’s friend Mildred from Macy’s stood behind Dora from Butterick. Behind her was Mrs. Tuttle. Each wanted a turn to admire their fashionable selves.
It was time to unveil her new idea. She unrolled a three-yard length of fabric that matched Mrs. Tuttle’s dress. “Voila.”
“What’s that for?” Mildred asked.
“It’s for warmth in case the weather is cold. We can’t have you wearing coats over your dresses, but you could drape this”—she draped it around Mrs. Tuttle’s shoulders—“like a shawl.”
“Pretty,” Mrs. Tuttle said. Then she let it drop off her shoulders, grasped the edges, extended her arms, and twirled with flourish. “Feast your eyes!”
They all laughed at her dramatics. Yet it was perfect. Annie pointed to the sewing room. “I’m having Gert and Ginny hem all the edges, and you each will get one. Just in case.”
“Very innovative,” Maude said. “I was wondering what we’d do about bad weather.”
“What if it snows?” Mildred asked.
“We pray it doesn’t.”
“But if it does?”
“We’ll have a fashion show in the shop. We’ll adapt.” It was the story of her life. That detail accomplished, and the models chatting among themselves as they tested out the shawl, Annie stepped back, taking it all in. The women of her American life were in one room, working together toward one goal.
Edna grasped her shoulders from behind. “Excited?”
“’Tis too small a word.”
“Satisfied?”
“Awed.”
Edna laughed. “That is a good word, and an apt one.”
“I never thought it would really happen.”
“Ye of little faith.”
She was right. “I wanted to believe, but it was so far-fetched to think that we could actually do it.”
“Yet it will be done. In ten days Unruffled will be opened.”
“Speaking of…I really need to go over there. Sean and Steven are papering the walls.”
“You don’t trust them?”
“Of course I do.”
Edna pointed to Henrietta. “Go on then. And take Henrietta with you. I’m sure the lovebirds are dying from being apart so long. We’ll finish up here.”
“Annie, don’t walk so fast!”
Annie held back, waiting for Henrietta and her much shorter legs to catch up. “I’m sorry. But I’m eager to see what our men’s work has wrought. And the sign painters are supposed to get done today.”
Henrietta took up beside Annie in the final block. “We could have hired the interior work done.”
“We could have. And I suggested it. But Sean and Steven wanted to contribute, so how could I refuse?”
“They are hard to refuse.”
There seemed to be more to Henrietta’s words t
han wallpaper. “How are you and Steven?”
“We are wonderful, glorious, very fine indeed.”
Annie laughed and took her arm. “Perhaps you should add ‘stupendous’ and ‘magnificent’ to your list?”
“I would have—could have—if I would have thought of them.”
“Gracious, Henrietta. Is a betrothal imminent?”
“If I had my way, yes.”
“He’s not as smitten?”
“Oh, he is. He definitely is.”
Annie noticed a healthy blush on her friend’s cheeks. “But you’re not certain he will ask?”
“I hope for it. But he seems overly concerned about my family’s status compared to his.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“He talked with his mother about it, and Edna spoke with me.”
“What did you say?”
“I said that your parents probably preferred you marry someone of their own set but that I didn’t think you cared.”
Henrietta stopped walking. “I don’t care! I want Steven and only Steven!”
They received the smiles of many passersby. Annie got her walking again. “Does he know this?”
“Yes.”
“So you’ve told him you love him?”
“Well…no. Shouldn’t the man say it first?”
It was Annie’s turn to stop their progress. “This is America. You are a modern woman, are you not?”
“Well…I don’t know. Perhaps.”
“Then tell him.”
She bit her lip. “Oh dear. I don’t know.”
Annie threw her hands in the air. “Did you ever consider that he might be wondering how you feel about him? Added to his uncertainty about your family…Perhaps these issues hold him back from declaring his love.”
“Surely he knows how I feel.”
“He will if you tell him.”
Henrietta and Annie gasped when they walked up to Unruffled. The sign painters were packing up their brushes and paint.
One of them looked up. “You like it, Mrs. Culver?”
Annie put a hand to her chest, hoping words would eke their way through the tightness there. “It’s perfect.”
“Nice of you to say so. It was a bit of a challenge getting ‘Fashion for the Unruffled, Unveiled, Unstoppable Woman’ spaced right, but we got it done.”
“Indeed you did,” Henrietta said. “You’re both very talented.”