Shine Like the Dawn

by Carrie Turansky

  “Psst, Lilly!” The whispered voice came from the far end of the hall.

  Lilly glanced over her shoulder.

  Sophie, one of the other housemaids, stood at the open doorway to the servants’ stairs. She lifted her index finger to her lips and motioned Lilly to come closer.

  Lilly set the sheets on a chair in the alcove and hurried to meet Sophie. “What is it?”

  “Rob Carter is downstairs at the courtyard door, asking for you.”

  Lilly’s breath hitched in her chest. What was Rob doing here? He knew Lilly was not allowed to receive male callers at Morningside.

  Sophie tipped her head. “Well, are you going to see him or not?”

  Lilly bit her lower lip and glanced down the hall. It must be important or he wouldn’t dare come. She turned back to Sophie. “Would you change the sheets in Mrs. Harcourt’s bedroom for me?”

  Sophie smiled. “Of course, but you’d better hurry. If Mrs. Burnell finds out about Rob…” She clicked her tongue. “I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”

  “Pray she doesn’t.” Lilly took the stairs as quickly as she could, then slipped down the lower hallway and out the back entrance. She quietly closed the door and glanced around the stone courtyard.

  Rob stood in the shadow of the house a few feet away. His eyes lit up when he saw her.

  She hurried toward him. “Rob, what are you doing here?”

  “I had to see you.” Lines creased his forehead. “It’s my dad. There was an accident at Clifton.”

  Lilly gasped. “What happened?”

  “He caught his hand in one of the machines.” Rob looked down and clenched his fists. “I was working on the other side of the building. One of the men ran over and got me. We had to take him to the hospital.”

  She laid her hand on his arm. “Oh, Rob, I’m so sorry.”

  He pressed his lips together. “He’s in a lot of pain. They’re keeping him at the hospital for now. I went home and told Mother. She was beside herself, and the girls were in tears.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “Mother ran over to the hospital, and she’s with him now. She told me to go back to work, but I couldn’t.” He took off his cap and rubbed his hand down his face. “It’s bad, Lilly. I’m not sure if they can save his hand. And if they can’t, I don’t know what we’re going to do. My wages are barely enough to cover the rent. How are we going to pay for everything else?”

  Lilly squeezed his arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you, and I’m sure our friends will as well.”

  Rob shook his head. “I couldn’t take your money, Lilly.”

  “Of course you can. It’s not my money; it’s ours.” Rob had proposed to her last October, and they’d both promised to save as much as they could so they’d be able to set a date and be married. But sometimes Rob’s father spent his wages at the pub, and Rob had to buy food for his family or pay the rent for their small cottage in the village.

  “What did the doctor say about his hand?”

  “We’ll have to wait and see how it heals. But the way it looked…” He closed his eyes for a moment, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I don’t know if he’ll ever go back to work at Clifton or anywhere else.”

  Lilly’s shoulders sagged and her eyes burned. How would they ever save enough to get married if Rob had to support his family? All these months of saving and waiting, only to find they must put off their hopes and dreams again. She bit her lip and silently scolded herself. She ought to be thinking about Rob’s father and mother and how to help Rob through this hard time.

  “And that’s not all.” Rob lifted his sorrowful gaze to meet hers. “My dad’s accident has stirred up all kinds of trouble at Clifton.”

  Lilly’s stomach tightened. “What do you mean?”

  “All the time we were waiting for the wagon to come and take Dad to the hospital, the men gathered around, muttering and complaining.”

  “What did they say?”

  “They blame the company for making us work such long days, and others say the equipment is old and not safe to use.”

  “People say all kinds of things when they’re upset.”

  “Yes, but this time they’re more than upset.”

  Lilly frowned and studied his face.

  “They’re tired of asking the management for changes and seeing nothing happen. It’s been years since they raised anyone’s salary. And this is not the first serious accident.” He leaned toward her, his gaze intense. “Here’s what it comes down to—if the board at Clifton won’t listen, the men are going to call for a strike.”

  “A strike?” A dizzy wave swept over Lilly, and her legs went weak.

  Rob nodded, his jaw firm and his blue eyes serious.

  “But that could mean weeks without wages.” Her mind spun with thoughts of the suffering a strike would cause. Not everyone had savings to see them through. Families would go hungry, and some might be turned out of their homes if they couldn’t pay their rent. “Surely you don’t want to strike.”

  “No, but I don’t want to be the next one crippled by an accident either.” He narrowed his eyes. “If we want things to change, we have to band together, speak up for our cause, and press the management to do what’s right.”

  “Oh, Rob, be careful. You don’t want to get in trouble and lose your job.”

  He placed both hands on her shoulders. “Don’t worry about me, Lilly. I’ll be all right.”

  She leaned toward him, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. The rough wool of his jacket brushed against her cheek. She closed her eyes, soaking in his strength and praying they’d find a way through these troubles.

  Nate shifted on the hard chair opposite the desk of Mr. Robert Hornshaw, Morningside’s estate manager, and watched the older man pull a leather-bound account book from his desk drawer. Hornshaw adjusted his spectacles, flipped through several pages, then looked up at Nate. “Daniel Lounsbury was paid quarterly, if I remember correctly.” He ran his finger down the page. “Here’s an entry for a payment made to him in September of 1898, the year before the accident.” Hornshaw turned the book so Nate could see and pointed to the figure.

  Nate leaned forward and scanned the entry. “Were any payments recorded later that year, or in 1899?”

  Mr. Hornshaw cocked one eyebrow, and his mustache twitched. “I don’t believe so.” He made the statement without even checking the book. That piqued Nate’s interest.

  “How much did my father owe Mr. Lounsbury at the time of his death?”

  “He died in August, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, on the twenty-second.”

  Hornshaw rubbed his chin. “I never could quite reconcile that in my mind.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That boat was almost new. I’m not sure how it could’ve sprung a leak.”

  Nate frowned. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yes, sir. We acquired it in May of that year. I took it out twice myself to do some fishing on the lake. It seemed sound to me at the time.”

  Nate pondered those comments while Hornshaw wrote a few numbers on a small piece of paper and did the calculations.

  Hornshaw passed the paper across the desk to Nate. “I believe this is what was owed to Mr. Lounsbury.”

  Nate’s eyebrows rose. The amount was more than his father had suggested, quite a bit more. He rubbed his chin. Had his father simply miscalculated, or had he intended to pay Maggie less than was due?

  Maggie’s accusations rose in his mind, stirring doubts about his father’s sincerity. He glanced at the figure on the paper again, then sat back in his chair. “Do you know why my father neglected to pay Mr. Lounsbury’s wages to his family after his death?”

  Hornshaw rubbed his hand down his mustache. “I really couldn’t say.”

  “Wouldn’t he discuss a matter like that with you?”

  “Usually, but I don’t recall him saying anything abo
ut it, at least not after Mr. Lounsbury died.”

  “Before his death, then? What was the arrangement?”

  Hornshaw pushed the pencil and paper aside, then looked across at Nate. “Your father said Mr. Lounsbury understood the situation at Clifton was putting a financial strain on him, and he agreed to wait for his wages.”

  Nate nodded. At least Hornshaw’s story matched what his father had told him. But it wouldn’t help to know those details or the amount owed if he couldn’t convince Maggie to accept the money. Still, he intended to press on and find a way to see it through.

  “My father would like me to make arrangements to pay off that debt.”

  Mr. Hornshaw nodded. “I’ll prepare the bank draft and take it to your father for his signature.”

  “He’d like it done today. I’ll wait for the draft and take it to him myself.”

  “Very well.” Mr. Hornshaw set to work, wrote out the draft, and passed it to Nate. “There you are, sir.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate your help.” Nate stood and shook hands with the estate manager, then left his office.

  As he walked back across the estate to the house, his conversation with Maggie ran through his mind again. She had always been spirited and determined, but hearing her refuse the money and accuse his father of selfish motives had been hard to bear. He had hoped she would be glad to receive the money, even grateful. Instead, she seemed to consider it another reason to hold on to her anger against him and his family.

  His father lay on his deathbed and was trying to make amends. Where was her compassion? Probably buried beneath her stubborn pride and the unforgiving spirit that seemed to have taken hold of her heart and turned her hurt into bitterness and resentment.

  He must remember that Maggie had suffered a terrible loss, and grief had a way of distorting events and impacting the way people responded. Still, a lack of forgiveness, even when it seemed justified, only ended up hurting the one who refused to forgive. He had learned that painful lesson in the last few years, and he was beginning to see the benefits of extending forgiveness, even to those who might not deserve it.

  Forgiving his father had freed him and given him a greater measure of peace.

  And for that reason, he must find a way to convince Maggie to accept the funds she so obviously needed.

  But how to do it…that was the question.

  “Mr. Harcourt!”

  Nate looked up.

  Andrew, one of Morningside’s footmen, hurried up the drive toward Nate. “A message for you, sir, from Mrs. Harcourt.” He passed the folded note to Nate.

  Nate opened it and scanned the words.

  Come at once. Your father has taken a bad turn. The end is near.

  Helen

  A blanket of dread fell over Nate’s shoulders like a heavy weight. He looked up. “Has someone gone for the doctor?”

  “Yes, sir. Phillip left about ten minutes ago.”

  Nate nodded, stuffed the note in his pocket, and jogged toward the house. He would not disappoint his father—he couldn’t. Somehow, he would find a way to carry out his father’s last wishes and see that he passed out of this life at peace.

  Grandmother’s eyes flared, and she lifted her hand to her heart. “You did what?”

  Maggie swallowed, wishing she hadn’t said anything, but she couldn’t take her words back now. “I told Nate I wouldn’t accept the money. His father is only trying to soothe his guilty conscience, and I don’t want any part of that.”

  “Margaret Ann, what a dreadful thing to say!” Grandmother stepped back from the kitchen table and dusted the flour from her hands.

  A pang of guilt struck Maggie’s heart, but she refused to let it sink in.

  Grandmother looked at Maggie over the top of her spectacles. “From what I’ve heard, Mr. Harcourt is very ill and may be dying.”

  Maggie dipped her chin, trying to forget the painful look in Nate’s eyes when he’d told her that same news.

  Grandmother continued, “Mr. Harcourt wants to put his affairs in order and leave this world with his debts paid and his conscience clear.”

  “I’m sure he does, but doesn’t it bother you that he never tried to pay us the money until now? That seems very dishonorable to me.”

  “I suppose he had his reasons.” She searched Maggie’s face, concern in her eyes. “Really, my dear, you shouldn’t be so quick to judge people’s motives, especially those of someone like Mr. Harcourt, who is so highly respected.”

  “He may be respected by some people, but I have my reasons for not trusting the Harcourts.”

  Grandmother clicked her tongue. “Surely you don’t feel that way about Nathaniel. I thought you considered him your friend.”

  Maggie’s throat tightened, and she had to push out her words. “I did, years ago, before the accident.”

  “He’s a good, brave man who has done his duty for king and country, fighting the Boers. He deserves your appreciation and respect.”

  Maggie lifted one shoulder in a small shrug, unable to deny the truth of her grandmother’s words.

  “I’m sure his father has good intentions.”

  “How can you defend him?”

  “I’m not defending him. I’m simply choosing not to be offended by him.” Grandmother smoothed her hand down her apron. “Now, if you want my opinion, you’ll write to Nathaniel and tell him you’ll be glad to accept the money.”

  Maggie clenched her fists. “I can’t do that.”

  “Of course you can. That money is a blessing from God, and we are not going to turn up our noses and refuse it.”

  “A blessing from God?” Maggie huffed and turned away.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what it is. I’ve been praying for a way to afford the repairs on the roof. And don’t forget, we’re also going to have a bill from the hospital for Violet’s stay after the accident, and we’re very low on supplies for the shop.”

  Maggie sighed. Why were finances always such a struggle? “I can’t write to Nate and ask for the money now. I’d feel like I was begging.”

  “There is a big difference between humbling yourself and begging.”

  Maggie rolled her eyes and suppressed a groan. Her grandmother always had an answer for everything.

  “Just tell him you’ve had time to consider it and you’ve changed your mind. Adding a few kind words of gratitude wouldn’t hurt our cause either.” Grandmother turned toward the kitchen table, plunged her hands into the bread dough, and continued kneading as though the decision had been made.

  Maggie paced across the room, silently debating what to do.

  “This money comes at the perfect time.” Grandmother sprinkled flour over the dough and folded it into the mixture. “Even if Mr. Harcourt’s motives for withholding the funds were not as honorable as we’d like, God knows what we need and He’s seeing we receive it—and more besides.” She chuckled and rolled the dough into a neat loaf. “Put on the tea kettle, Maggie. I think this calls for a little celebration.”

  Maggie turned toward Grandmother. “I didn’t say I would write to Nate.”

  “But you will…Mark my words, you will.”

  Maggie lifted the soggy blouse from the laundry basket and clipped one shoulder to the clothesline in the courtyard behind her grandmother’s shop. She looked up at the heavy clouds overhead and sighed. Perhaps this wasn’t the best time to hang the clothes outside.

  “Maggie, is that you?” Lilly looked over the stone wall separating their back courtyards. Her friend and neighbor wore a white cap over her blond hair, but a few short curls escaped to frame her face.

  “Lilly, what are you doing home?” Maggie stepped away from the clothesline and crossed to the wall. Lilly’s duties as housemaid at Morningside Manor usually kept her there all week, except for Sunday afternoons when she was free to visit her friends and family.

  Lilly looked over the wall. “Mrs. Harcourt sent me to have her shoes repaired. The strap is broken, and she wants to wear them for the funeral.”


  Maggie’s heart lurched. “Funeral?”

  “Yes, didn’t you hear? Mr. Harcourt passed away this morning.”

  A tremor shook Maggie, and she reached toward the wall to steady herself. “Oh no! That’s terrible.”

  Lilly nodded, her face reflecting proper sadness. “Of course we knew he was nearing the end, but it’s still been a bit of a shock for everyone.”

  Maggie’s thoughts flashed to Nate. Had his visit with her that morning caused him to miss those last moments with his father? She focused on Lilly again. “Who was with him when he died?”

  “Mrs. Harcourt and Miss Clara.” Lilly clicked her tongue. “You never heard such moaning and crying as came from Mrs. Harcourt when it was all over. The doctor had to give her medicine to calm her down.”

  “What about the younger Mr. Harcourt?”

  “They sent Andrew off to look for him, but by the time he made it back to the house, his father had passed.”

  Maggie’s shoulders sagged. She hoped Nate had already said good-bye and would have no regrets, but thinking of the years of separation from his family and the short time they’d been reunited, she doubted that was true. She understood all too well the pain that followed losing a parent.

  Conflicting feelings flooded her heart. Her refusal to accept the money had prevented Nate from fulfilling his father’s dying request. No doubt her decision added to the grief he was feeling now.

  “Maggie, are you all right?”

  She blinked and looked at Lilly again. “Yes, I’m just a bit stunned by the news.”

  “It is dreadful to think about, but I’m glad the younger Mr. Harcourt had a little time with his father before he passed. That should ease his mind and help him accept the loss.”

  Maggie nodded, though she wasn’t sure how Nate would deal with his father’s death. “He was a loyal son. He wanted his father’s passing to be peaceful.”