Crown of Beauty

by Cecily K Wolfe

  “Oh, look, Ned and Charlie are here! I thought they went back to the City already!”

  Sarah tumbled ahead of Catherine as Harry, the footman, attempted to keep the younger girl from falling. He looked at Catherine and she smiled an apology.

  “That’s our Miss Sarah,” Annie offered, and Catherine watched Harry’s shoulders lose a bit of tension as he relaxed.

  The Taunton boys were as immature and playful as Sarah, and Catherine didn’t spend a moment worrying about Sarah’s excitement over them. The idea of either boy as marriage material . . . it was certainly laughable, although not impossible. They didn’t want for money or social elevation, so there would be no question of whether they pursued either Sarah or Catherine for such purpose, but they were like a pair of puppies, close in age and silly like children. The two of them could wait for years before deciding to start a family if it pleased them to do so, enjoying their youth a bit longer. They could even marry for love if it came to pass. Catherine shook her head as she watched Sarah, her hair completely undone and bouncing along the back of her high-necked collar, chatter animatedly with the boys. They had all grown up here, building sand castles with their maids and governesses years ago, and Catherine wondered if she would bring her own children here for the same purpose in some future year.

  She stilled as a chill came over her, the evening air cooling in a reminder that the seasons were indeed changing, and summer was behind them. From their infrequent winter visits to Newport, Catherine recalled the icy cold that seemed to leap into the air from the ocean, the brittle bite of the wind that sent shivers throughout her bones. New York City was cold, but the ocean side was absolutely glacial. Arthur and Josie had been the cause of Catherine’s father’s decision to stay throughout the year, so Catherine couldn’t be too upset that they had to stay, but when it came down to her own preferences, when she was married she would prefer to spend her winters elsewhere. Aside from the social aspects, she loved her Newport summers, but the dark winter days ahead, with Sarah to entertain and a lack of books after she finished the one her brother had so recently purchased for her, did not give her much to look forward to.

  “Miss Catherine?”

  Annie was beside her, shawl in hand, and Catherine offered her a smile of thanks as her maid carefully set the knitted piece over her shoulders. Catherine tugged at the ends as she looked around at the small group of young people, talking together and kicking gently at the sand. A few tables with tea-time foods were arranged so that everyone had something tasty within reach, and several footmen were close by to assist in case there was a need to be met. Catherine wondered if there were any cucumber sandwiches left just as she noticed Annie cover her face with her hands.

  “Yes?” Catherine began to ask, then turned her head to find Sarah chasing Ned, her dress held up tightly in her hands and her bare feet clearly visible in the sand. Everyone except Catherine, Annie, and Harry began to laugh, and Charlie joined in the chase after his brother.

  “Not again,” Catherine almost moaned out loud. Sarah knew better than to leave the house, or even her bedroom, wearing only her slippers, and here she was, cavorting about like a child in front of whatever society was left in town. Their mother would have a fit if she found out, and there was no doubt that she would. If one of the party didn’t speak of it, one of their servants would. Catherine could already hear her mother’s complaints.

  “Oh, who would ever want to marry a girl who shows her bare feet in public!”

  There were worse things for an unmarried girl to do, but this truly was a breach of etiquette by any standards. Even when they bathed they didn’t kick about, and wearing a dress meant absolutely no display of limbs that were underneath the dress. Catherine thought that in all probability, she wouldn’t marry before Sarah because she was needed to keep Sarah from too much trouble before she was wed, then once Sarah was safely in the care of a husband who would then be in charge of her behavior, Catherine would be expected to marry as her mother wished. It wasn’t ideal, but it might buy her time. She resisted the urge to call Sarah’s name or run after her herself.

  She shook her head.

  “Just let her go. There’s really nothing we can do at this point. At least she’s having a good time,” she reassured Annie and Harry, both of whom, she noticed, were trying very hard to conceal small smiles of their own.

  Chapter Three

  When Annie came into Catherine’s room the following morning, Catherine was already awake, a volume of travel writing in her hands. She nearly jumped when her maid knocked, then relaxed with the knowledge that her mother would never knock. After eighteen years, she thought, I should know better. Her mother’s disapproval of reading as a habit made her skittish, however, and whenever she became absorbed in a new book she often forgot about the world around her, and any noise elicited a frantic response. Annie noted Catherine’s wide-eyed expression and apologized immediately.

  “I am so sorry, Miss Catherine. I don’t mean to disturb you.”

  The tray she carried held some of Catherine’s morning favorites, including waffles, which were difficult for her to eat in front of her mother, as she had a particular way of dipping them in syrup that did not please the older woman. Granted it was something more in tune with Sarah’s behavior, but Catherine didn’t see why she couldn’t eat as she pleased when they were at home and without company. It was a bad habit, her mother would say, like everything else for which she had a rule, and dripping syrup over a plate while eating was not ladylike at all. Soon after Arthur and Josie wed and Josie moved into the cottage with the rest of the family, Arthur had brought ice cream home on a whim one early afternoon, and Cook was in the midst of making a rather late breakfast for Sarah. The four of them took advantage of the time together by sharing warm waffles and ice cream, a clever and tasty combination that Arthur decided to try. He was surprising Catherine nearly every day in one way or another, and while she had to admit that she didn’t really know him all that well, since they hadn’t been close since they were children and his travels had taken him away for several years, she was sure that his personality and actions were distinctly different from the brother she knew only a few short years ago. She didn’t think that the ‘old’ Arthur would have proudly presented his new wife, their former maid, with a carton of ice cream, then invited her and Catherine to join Sarah at the table for breakfast, where he would encourage all three ladies to drop spoonfuls of ice cream over their warm waffles. At that point, they were all giggling like little girls, and he seemed delighted that he was the cause of such merriment.

  Catherine smiled to herself at the memory and slipped a slice of pear onto her spoon. Annie was asking her about dresses and plans, walking around the room and straightening items that didn’t need straightening. Unlike Sarah, Catherine tended to be tidy with her things, and there was little for the maid to do in this respect. Still, it wouldn’t do for Annie to stand and watch her eat, so Catherine set her spoon down on her tray and carefully slid out of bed. It was October, and nearing the end at that, but some days were still warm. The weather at this time of year was so unpredictable, and unlike yesterday, which had been warm and perfectly clear for the beach party, chilly as the evening continued, today seemed outright cold. She couldn’t remember exactly what was planned for the day, which was unlike her. Normally she would know down to the hour, even when she wasn’t truly interested in attending whatever function or entertaining whichever visitors were on the schedule. Lately she had been so distracted with the surprise wedding and her mother’s push for her and Sarah to make matches of their own, and preferred to find solace in the pages of her books.

  She lay the one she was reading on her bed with the intention of hiding it under her pillow before Annie straightened the bedclothes. Her mother would never look there, although she would most likely check after the maid’s handiwork. She had always been quite strict with the servants. Catherine worried what Josie really thought of them all, after working for them an
d knowing so much about their private habits, their personal discussions, and worse yet, their arguments and problems. She trusted Josie, but it was still sometimes uncomfortable, the awareness that Josie knew so much about them all and was now a part of the family. Josie had never approached any of them with comments on their personal lives, but it was still strange, to have such a close relationship with one who used to attend to so many private matters. Just knowing that her new sister-in-law had spent years washing her intimate articles of clothing . . . Catherine shook her head to clear her thoughts.

  “I’m sure we have something planned for today but I just can’t remember what it is.”

  She sighed and Annie ventured a small smile.

  “I’ll be sure to come and let you know when Mrs. Davenport expects you, Miss Catherine. Will you want to dress now?”

  Catherine shook her head, hoping to steal some more time with her book, when a knock came at the door. She didn’t panic this time as Annie walked to the door and opened it.

  “Oh, Miss Josie. Don’t you look lovely today!”

  Annie’s small smile grew larger when she saw her former coworker, and Catherine felt a pang in her chest. Was it so awful to work as a maid in their home, even when Catherine herself tried not to be too demanding, or was it a personal connection to Josie herself? Or, as her mother said, were the servants pleased that one of their own had improved her position, and were entertaining ideas of their own?

  When Catherine caught a glimpse of Josie, she thought that yes, while the other girl was wearing a beautiful day dress in a dark green hue that flattered her light skin and hair, her face looked positively drawn.

  “Come in, won’t you? We’re making this a regular habit, aren’t we?”

  Catherine tried to be welcoming without sounding too concerned, but Josie did look terrible. It wouldn’t do to say such a thing, but it couldn’t be denied.

  “Annie, please fetch Miss Josie a glass of water, won’t you?”

  She looked pointedly at Annie, who was still smiling and gazing adoringly at Josie. Josie was doing her best to look cheerful.

  “Yes, please, that would be wonderful.”

  Annie stood up straight as if prepared for military command.

  “Yes, miss, right away.”

  She left before either of them could speak again, and Josie managed a small laugh.

  “She is so eager to please, and I hate to take advantage.”

  “Sit.”

  Catherine directed Josie to her bed, removing the tray of partially eaten food and coffee and taking it to her dressing table. When she moved the tray past Josie, Catherine saw the girl’s face scrunch up before she put a hand over her mouth quickly.

  “What can I do? Is this what you were speaking of yesterday, this sickness?”

  Josie nodded and to Catherine’s horror, tears sprang to her eyes. Oh, no, Catherine thought, what was she supposed to do now? She sat beside Josie and tentatively put an arm around her, unsure if that would make Josie feel better or worse. She had never attended a sick person before. Should she go and find Maddie, their housekeeper? Would Josie need a doctor?

  To her relief, Josie lifted her hand from her mouth and took a deep breath before turning to look at Catherine.

  “I’m so sorry. It’s just, this suddenly happened, and it comes and goes without warning, and then I just start crying. I don’t know why. Arthur went to the shelter this morning without me, insisting that I rest, but then after he left, I cried because I missed him. It’s very silly, since I know he’ll return home, and I can always go out there and work as well. We always seem to be behind as it is.”

  She sighed and Catherine hoped she wouldn’t cry. Her mother had always taught her that crying was for small children and babies, and that she had nothing to cry about. She didn’t know why Josie would need to cry, but then again, there was this strange sickness with the baby, and what had Josie told her yesterday?

  “Your mother seemed to know something about this, right? Perhaps you should go and visit her and see what she has to say.”

  Josie nodded again, blinking away the tears and smiling a little more truthfully this time.

  “Will you pray for the child and me, Catherine? Just so he is well?”

  Catherine frowned.

  “And how are you so sure the baby is a boy? You may have a strong little girl on the way.”

  She didn’t know much about praying, except that it was what she was supposed to be doing in church, but she thought that Josie looked satisfied with her response just as well.

  “You’re right. I’m not sure if Arthur has a preference, but I just hope he - or she - is healthy. That is all I pray for.”

  Josie wrinkled her nose and looked over at the breakfast tray.

  “Coffee. I just never imagined that the smell of something so ordinary could make me feel so ill.”

  Catherine stood up and walked over to her dressing table, removing her napkin from the tray and draping it over the offending cup.

  “There,” she said, satisfied that she could do something to alleviate Josie’s discomfort. “Maybe that will help. I suppose it’s good that you aren’t working near the kitchen anymore.”

  She hoped that she didn’t sound obnoxious by such a statement, since she didn’t mean anything by it but what she said. Fortunately, Josie, in her truly good-natured form, took it just as Catherine intended.

  “Yes, indeed, I can’t imagine how anyone works near food when they are in this condition.”

  Catherine bit her lip, feeling rather stupid as she realized that there were plenty of women carrying babies who had to prepare their own meals, and those of others in their families, perhaps as employment as well, who might suffer from Josie’s trouble.

  “Catherine?”

  Josie was watching her curiously.

  “Oh, sorry, I was just wondering the same thing.”

  “Well,” Josie began, then noticed the book on the bed beside her. “Is this the new book Arthur bought for you?”

  Catherine opened her mouth and closed it again. Surely Josie wouldn’t mind that Arthur encouraged her reading habit, would she? She didn’t think that Josie would tell her mother, but she had to be sure.

  “Yes, I am always grateful when he finds me something new. My mother doesn’t approve, though, so please don’t mention it to her. Please.”

  Josie held the book in her hands and looked from it to Catherine.

  “There’s nothing wrong with reading, and I know that Arthur would never give you anything unseemly. This is a travel volume, isn’t it? Henry James?”

  Catherine smiled. The author’s tales of his travels were so carefully descriptive that she felt as is she was walking alongside him on his adventures.

  “Oh, yes. It’s lovely. I know his fiction is sometimes disheartening, but I like to read his novels on occasion. But his travels . . . I just adore them.”

  Josie lay the book back on the bed and held her hand out to Catherine, who walked forward and reached out her own to take it.

  “Will you come with me to the shelter today, just for a short visit, and then to see my mother? I don’t think you’ve ever seen my home before.”

  Catherine was stunned. She had never imagined spending time at her brother’s homeless shelter, or at Josie’s former house, where, if she wasn’t mistaken, Josie’s mother minded babies and children. Oh, Catherine wasn’t sure she was interested in any of this, but how could she say no to Josie’s hopeful smile?

  Chapter Four

  Catherine couldn’t tell how her mother felt about the excursion, as the older woman had a very practiced way of hiding her true feelings when she wanted to, but as Catherine moved to follow Josie out the door and towards the carriage, her mother took her elbow in her hand and leaned in to speak into her ear.

  “Remember that there are eyes everywhere, and whatever you do, others will carry tales.”

  Catherine frowned and turned to look directly in her mother’s eyes, which wa
s not her habit.

  “But I haven’t done anything . . .”

  Her mother raised her eyebrows and tilted her head as she cut Catherine off.

  “It makes no difference. Pay attention to what you do and say, and to whom you speak. We don’t want anything to get in the way of a proper match, do we?”

  Catherine could see that her mother expected an answer to the question, and a certain answer at that.

  “No, Mother, we don’t.”

  A proper match. All of this talk, consistent and firm, was making her nervous. She hadn’t spoken with Sarah since the night before, when her younger sister had bounded into her room and rolled onto the bed to hug her before retiring to her own room, chattering quickly about parties and boys and who was leaving Newport soon.

  “What will we ever do, Catherine? Alone here all winter with hardly anyone around?”

  Read, Catherine had wanted to tell her. But Sarah wouldn’t understand. She wouldn’t make light of Catherine’s interest in books and travel, but she didn’t share it. Sarah was still so young in her heart, so thoughtless in her actions. She tried to keep an eye on her, not only because their mother insisted but because she truly didn’t want to see any harm come to her. As sheltered as they were, things did happen, and Sarah was too busy enjoying herself to consider this. She was so trusting, throwing herself into life with a particular childish joy that Catherine hoped wouldn’t be stamped down by whichever husband her parents chose for her. Dousing Sarah’s inherent pleasure in life would be a crime, one that Catherine wasn’t sure she could forgive her parents or Sarah’s as yet undetermined husband for doing.