by Sarah Winn
Ellen gave the flowery teacups a final examination before following him. The bedroom itself was something to see. The walls had been covered with wallpaper in stripes of varying shades of blue, and heavy cloth, woven in the same design and colors, formed a drape around the head of the bed from ceiling to floor. A short ruffle of the same material surrounded the rest of the canopy. The bed itself was covered with a white, ruffled coverlet embroidered with flowers and leaves similar to the colors that surrounded the bed.
“This coverlet is beautiful,” Ellen said.
“Aunt Rachel made it,” Gerald replied. “She spent a lot of her time doing needlework after Uncle Luther died. Everybody in our family has a set of fancy hand towels she made.”
Ellen finally turned her attention to the cabinet he stood in front of and held a lamp for her benefit. The shelves were filled with figurines of men and women, most in costumes of past generations. Some of them were joined together, others molded separately, but obviously, part of a matching pair. All of them conveyed the impression of couples in love. Ellen thought it sad that a cabinet dedicated to love was hidden away in a widow’s bedroom.
A lump developed in Ellen’s throat, but she realized Gerald was watching her, waiting for her response, so she cleared her throat and said, “Your aunt obviously spent a lot of time and care selecting her collections.”
Gerald nodded. “I once heard my mother say Aunt Rachel used them as a substitute for the children she never had.”
“Oh!” Her throat truly closed. The poor woman, living in this house with so many bedrooms, obviously hoping for a large family to fill it. Ellen said a small prayer of thanks for Toby. But life was so fragile: Diseases and accidents lurked around every corner. Might she end up like Rachel Jamison, filling her days caring for little lumps of clay or stitching make-believe flowers on linens? She had been so caught up in caring for the child she had, she put thoughts of the ones she had hoped to have aside. And now…if she were married to an impotent man…
Gerald’s voice intruded into her revelry. “What’s the matter, Ellen?”
“There—there’s so much love in this cabinet. Your aunt and uncle must have loved each other dearly.”
He looked back at the cabinet and remained silent. Had she hurt him with that remark? Had she reminded him of the love he did not have and would never have as long as he was married to her?
She sniffed and blinked away the threatening tears. “Well, I can put a lot of the things from the main parlor into these cabinets. They won’t be as attractively displayed, but they will be safe from Toby’s little hands.”
“You need not treat these rooms like shrines to the former owner. Make whatever changes you want to.” His voice had a hollow ring.
They both knew she had no right to make major changes, if she did not intend to go on living here.
* * * *
The next morning, after breakfast, Ellen gave Toby permission to play in the back yard, as long as he stayed in sight of the window from the laundry room. She had decided that the pieces of porcelain in the parlor would need cleaning before they were placed in the glass-enclosed cabinets and it would be better if Toby was not part of that process. Finding a tea cart in the pantry, she rolled it to the parlor and loaded pieces of porcelain onto the cart, being careful that they would not clatter against each other, and then rolled it back to the laundry room.
She made a quick check to be sure Toby was within her line of sight, and then prepared a bucket of hot soapy water and one of rinse water. After swishing each piece through the soapy water, she dipped it in rinse water and then set it on a flat surface to drip dry. As she worked on the shepherdess, being particular careful of the delicate staff in the figurine’s hands, motion in the doorway distracted her.
Mrs. Moore was standing there frowning at her. “What are you doing with Miss Rachel’s collectibles?”
Knowing how devoted the cook had been to her former mistress, Ellen sought to be conciliatory despite the woman’s hostile air. “These are pieces from the formal parlor. I going to move them into the locked cabinets for safety’s sake.”
“Miss Rachel spent hours placing those pieces just the way she wanted ’em.”
Ellen nodded in agreement. “I’m sure she did, but with a small boy in the house, it’s not safe to have them in easy reach.”
“I thought you were gonna watch the boy,” the cook said in an even more hostile manner.
Ellen took a deep breath. “Obviously, Mrs. Moore, I can’t watch him every minute.”
Mrs. Moore placed her fists on her hips. “So—are you gonna strip the house of all its decorations?”
Ellen had never had a staff of servants to supervise before, but she was pretty sure the cook was speaking to her in an inappropriate manner. She added sharpness to her voice as she said, “Decorations coated in dust are hardly attractive.”
“Are you saying that’s my fault?” the cook asked belligerently.
Ellen told herself to calm down, but not to back down. “I’m saying there are not enough servants in this house at the present time to keep things up to their former standards, so we all need to pitch in and help Mr. Osborne through this period when he’s working so hard to make his business profitable.”
“So, you’re just doing your wifely duties then?”
The cook’s sneering manner made Ellen realize the woman’s hostility was caused by something more than love for her former mistress. Her loyalty toward Gerald was driving at least a part of it. Nevertheless, comments about “wifely duties” to the mistress of the household exceeded what a servant might utter to that mistress no matter how many years of service she had given the family. “You are overstepping yourself, Mrs. Moore. I suggest you go back to the kitchen and boil some more mutton, or I might feel obligated to tell Mr. Osborne how disrespectfully you have spoken to me.”
Ellen’s anger obviously had an impact on the older woman for she drew back as if Ellen had slapped her. Then, with a huff, she turned and disappeared from the doorway.
To calm herself before going back to her work with the figurines, Ellen went over to the window and watched Toby drawing in a spot of bare dirt with a stick. Should she mention this quarrel to Gerald? No, she should take her own advice and try to make his life easier rather than add to his worries. Besides, telling him the servants were gossiping about whether he and she were sleeping together would be embarrassing to her, and if Gerald was truly physically unable to participate in bedroom sports, more so to him.
* * * *
Of course, Toby did not forget about the pony in the stables. Even though Ellen warned him that he must not expect the men to interrupt their work for him, the boy developed a habit of looking so forlorn when the men left the house without him, that even Ellen felt sorry for him. His action proved effective, for after two days, Gerald invited both Ellen and Toby to accompany him back to the stables after their morning meal.
They walked together down the narrow lane that ran behind the house until they came to the rambling collection of buildings that showed signs of recent refurbishing. A large multi-storied building looked like a proper carriage house. A single-story building filled with horse stalls faced it, and the area between them was paved with stones.
They entered the larger building. As her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light inside, Ellen saw stairs leading up to the second story and connected to a balcony that led to several closed doors. She knew from conversations over meals shared with the men that Mr. Samuels and Tully lived on the farm and supposed those doors led to their quarters. The front part of the upper story was a simple loft where bales of hay were stored.
Gerald led them over to one of the four stalls on the ground floor of the building. “This is my horse, Phantom.” A long black face peered out over the lower half-door of the stall.
“He’s a beautiful horse,” Ellen said. “Have you had him long?”
“Aunt Rachel gave him to me on my twenty-first birthday. I had nowhere to keep him but a rented
stable, so I left him here. I think that was her plan all along. She wanted to make sure I kept visiting her.”
“Did you know she planned to leave this estate to you?”
“Yes, she and Uncle Luther talked about it.”
Mr. Samuels entered the back of the building just then and looked delighted to see them. After saying hello to the her, he called to Toby. “Come over here, big boy. I’ve got something to show you.”
Toby glanced up at Ellen and after she nodded permission, he skipped over to join the older man who helped Toby crawl on top of a bale of straw to better see something behind it. Seeing Toby being well taken care of, she turned back to the horse and reached up to rub his velvet-like ear.
“Do you ride?” Gerald asked.
“My Aunt Sarah thought riding on horseback unladylike, even using a side-saddle.”
“Your aunt sounds a bit prudish.”
Ellen smiled over at him. “No. She wasn’t a bit prudish, she was very much that way.”
“Have you written to her about our wedding yet?”
She turned back to look at the horse, embarrassed by the answer she must give. “Not yet. I’m mulling over how much I should tell her.”
“I’d keep it as simple as possible.”
Did he mean for her not to tell her aunt that theirs was a marriage in name only? “I was thinking of something along the lines of accidently running into Philip’s former commanding officer.”
Gerald nodded. “You could say I called on you to express my condolences.”
“But should I tell them about the Coylers?”
He frowned as he thought that question over. “Telling your aunt about Coyler would probably make her wonder about our sudden marriage.”
“But what if they hear about him through gossip or the newspapers?”
“As far as I know, the newspapers have not picked up on the story. And if your aunt should hear about it, you could always say you didn’t tell her because you didn’t want to worry her.”
Ellen sighed in relief. “Thank you for the advice. It’s good to have someone to talk to about my problems. I’ve missed that.”
Toby chose that moment to scramble off the bale of hay and run toward them. “Mama, there are four kitties and they are drinking milk from their mama’s stomach!”
Ellen was a bit embarrassed by her son’s pronouncement, but Mr. Samuels and Gerald both chuckled.
Toby continued with unabated enthusiasm. “And Mr. Sam said when the kitties get too old to do that, they can go live somewhere else—in a house. Could I have one, mama?”
Ellen hurriedly looked over at Gerald who was giving Mr. Samuels an exaggerated frown. Then she looked down at her son. “We’ll talk about that later.”
Toby’s lips puckered, but Phantom chose that moment to stretch his neck as far out of the stall as possible and sniff at the boy. Toby drew back in alarm. “What does he want?”
“He’s just being friendly,” Mr. Samuels said.
Gerald took hold of Toby’s hand and raised it up to the side of the horse’s long head. “Rub him here. He likes that.”
Toby took a few seconds to gather his courage and followed the instructions. Phantom snuffled. Toby jerked his hand back, but when the horse continued to poke his nose toward the boy, Toby regained his courage and started to rub the horse again.
Gerald smiled down at Toby as if he understood the boy’s bravery and was proud of him. It occurred to Ellen that Gerald would make a good father. Too bad he couldn’t have children of his own—if he couldn’t. Of course, he would not have any as long as theirs was a marriage in name only. Knowing the men had work to do—she could see Jim exercising a horse in the paddock on the far side of the barn—she told Toby it was time to go back to the house. He, of course, groaned protests, but took her hand and with a prompt from her, thanked the men for this tour. Mr. Samuels promised that the next time Toby came to the stable, he’d show him the pony who was now out in the pasture.
As they walked back to the house, Toby chatted excitedly about what he had seen and what he was going to see, and Ellen wished Mr. Samuels would stop promising Toby things that would just fill him with anxious expectations. The man apparently knew little about raising children—or maybe he was acting like a grandparent.
Ellen led Toby around to the door that opened into the laundry room, hoping to avoid her nemesis in the kitchen, only to find Mrs. Moore in the laundry room chatting with a plump woman wearing a full-length apron. The cook waved Ellen and Toby over and introduced them to Mrs. Peele, the laundress.
Just then Alice burst through the doorway from the main house carrying an armload of linens. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Osborne. I got the linens off both of the beds in your room.”
Ellen smiled. “Thank you. I had forgotten today was laundry day.” Then she noticed Mrs. Moore’s smirk over what Alice had said about “both beds.” She determinedly ignored the woman and, with mock cheerfulness, said, “I’ll go remake the beds then. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Peele.”
* * * *
Toby did not wait patiently for his promised ride on the pony. At breakfast the next morning, he asked Mr. Samuels when he could come back to the stable.
“You’ll have to ask the Captain about that.”
Gerald looked up from his plate, and Toby turned an imploring look on his step-father as he said, “Ple-e-ease?’
Gerald had little choice in the matter after that. “Well…come this afternoon. You can watch Mr. Sam give lessons to the town boys and have a short ride on the pony afterward.”
From then on, Toby was a bundle of excitement. Ellen had to abandon efforts to get him to take a short nap after their mid-day meal. When she finally agreed to walk with him to the stable, he fairly danced along the lane that led to it.
As they neared the stable, she heard voices from the behind the main barn, so she led Toby to the back of the building and the large, fenced-in paddock. The town boys, all three of them looking to be in their early teens, were in the midst of their lessons. Two of them stood near the entrance to the barn watching a third, who was perched on a large horse. The horse’s reins were lying loosely against the back of its neck, while the student’s hands lightly gripped the pommel of the saddle. Mr. Samuels was leading the horse around in a large circle by a long leading strap attached to the ring connected to the horse’s bit.
As he did so, he called instructions to the boy. “Head up! Back straight! Legs relaxed!”
Gerald came out of the barn and walked over to Ellen and Toby. Toby, who had climbed up so he could look over the top of the fence, asked, “Why is Mr. Sam leading the horse?”
“That’s the way they teach men to ride in the cavalry,” Gerald replied. “Learn the proper seat and then you master the horse, not the other way around.”
Toby stared at Gerald for a long moment before asking, “Will I do that on the pony?”
Gerald smiled at the boy. “No, you still have some growing to do. For a while, we’ll just lead you on the short reins.”
“When can I do that?” Toby persisted.
Gerald grinned at the boy. “How about now?”
Toby held an arm over the top of the fence toward Gerald. “Lift me down.”
Not knowing if Gerald could lift the child with only one arm, Ellen grabbed the back of the boy’s trousers and said, “No, Toby. Come down and we’ll walk around to the door.” Hoping to spare Gerald’s feelings, she added, “After all, I can’t climb over a fence.”
She helped Toby down, smiled at Gerald, and said, “We’ll meet you inside.” His expression was totally unreadable, so she didn’t know if her interference had offended him.
When they got around to the wide door that opened into the barn, Mr. Tully was strapping a small saddle on a brown and white replica of a horse, as Gerald stood watching. With her hand on Toby’s shoulder, Ellen felt hesitation in the boy’s forward momentum, and her own fear for his safety rushed to the forefront of her mind. While the pony’s back
was no higher than Gerald’s waist, that was still a great distance from the ground for a boy not yet six years old. “If you don’t want to ride this time, Toby, you don’t have to.”
Gerald gave her a small frown and then moved toward them. “Of course, he wants to ride.” He leaned over until his head was almost level with Toby’s and said, “Put your arms around my neck and hold tight.” Toby obeyed, and Gerald slipped his real arm under the boy and easily lifted him and swung him onto the pony’s back. The maneuver happened so smoothly that Ellen wondered why she’d ever doubted Gerald’s ability to lift a small boy.
Once Toby was firmly seated in the saddle, he slowly released his death-grip around Gerald’s neck. Mr. Tully stepped forward to make sure the stirrups were adjusted to just the right length for Toby’s short legs. Gerald placed the boy’s hands on the pommel of the saddle, “Hold on here.” Then he put one of Toby’s feet in a stirrup. “Push against the bottom of the stirrup with the front of your foot,” Gerald used his hand to position the foot, “but do not bang your heels against the pony’s sides. That’s the signal to go fast. Do that and the pony might run over me.”
This really is dangerous. Ellen opened her mouth to call the ride off, but then she noticed the smile Mr. Tully was trying to hide, so she kept quiet and followed man, boy, and pony out of the front of the barn.
The pony’s hoofs clip-clopped against the paving stones, as Gerald led him into the courtyard and turned toward the far end of it. Noticing the calm, disinterested way the pony walked, Ellen decided Gerald had exaggerated the warning about the animal running over anything, or perhaps he was trying to enhance the boy’s experience.
She decided to stay near the barn doorway and not follow after the pony. Like it or not, it was time for Toby to become less dependent on his mother, and Gerald was offering a perfect opportunity for this to happen. Nevertheless, she felt a bit bereft as they moved out of her earshot.