by Kit Morgan
Mercy opened her mouth to speak but Garrett cut her off. “Mother, let her go. What we do in our home and how we treat others is our business. If she doesn’t like it, too bad.”
“Well said,” commended Julian, his eyes still locked with Ellie’s. She stood there, frozen in place. He motioned to the chair. “Sit, please.”
She sat and quickly folded her hands in her lap, not knowing what to do. Julian, on the other hand, picked up the teapot and poured her a cup.
* * *
Julian seethed. It was all he could do to keep a steady hand as he poured Ellie her tea. He’d heard rumors that Mrs. Caulder had grown up on a plantation in Tennessee, and had never gotten over not having slaves to order about. Now he believed it. Even if he had wanted to court Bernice – which he assuredly didn’t – the thought of having that woman as his potential mother-in-law would have given him pause.
Finished pouring, he picked up the cup and saucer and handed it to Ellie with a gentle smile. “Do you take cream or sugar?”
She looked at him, dumbfounded. “Just … a little sugar, if you please.”
“Of course,” he said and spooned some into her cup. He even stirred it. He wanted her to know that he approved of her sitting with them to enjoy a simple cup of tea. “Would you like a cookie?”
She shook her head as the tiniest hint of a smile curved her mouth. “No, thank you. The tea is enough.”
He smiled again and sat back in his chair. He then turned to Garrett. “How many bedrooms does the house on Chestnut Street have?”
“Three,” Garrett told him. “And it’s not so little as my mother thinks. There’s even a study, I hear.”
“I was in it once when the Fergusons lived there,” Bernice said. “The parlor is huge!”
“Plenty of room for little ones to run around,” commented Cecil as he smiled at Garrett and Ammy.
His daughter blushed. “Father, not right away. But I’m sure there will be.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Winters. I plan on getting that done as soon as possible.” Garrett announced with a confident smile.
Ammy was now turning crimson. Mercy laughed and poured herself another cup.
Julian smiled and looked at Ellie, who sat stiffly, as if she still felt uncomfortable with them. “Have you seen the house on Chestnut Street?”
“Wh-what?” she stammered. “Er … no. I haven’t.”
“Then you should let me show it to you.”
“A splendid idea!” Garrett said. “Let’s finish our tea and go over there. I’d like to walk around it again.”
“Again? You mean you’ve already seen it?” Mercy asked.
“The outside. I’ve not looked inside – except through the windows, of course.”
“I don’t think it’s locked,” Julian said. “But I can’t be sure. Who’s looking after it?”
“I believe Pastor Adams is,” Mrs. Vander sighed in resignation. “All right, do you think he’d open it up for us if it’s locked?”
“I don’t see why not – that is, if he’s not too busy,” Garrett said. “But we better hurry. There’s a few things I still need to do at the office before suppertime.”
“Let’s go now, then,” Mercy said as she set down her teacup. Everyone followed suit and stood – except for Ellie, who remained where she was.
“Aren’t you coming?” Julian asked.
She shook her head. “Oh, but I couldn’t. I’m not …”
“It’s best to learn how things are done around here,” he said with a smile. “Go on, grab your coat and let’s go.”
“But really, I couldn’t…”
“Of course you can!” Cecil insisted. “In fact, run and get Betsy – she’ll want to see it too.”
Ellie looked between the two men, eyes wide, before she complied and left the parlor.
Bernice watched her go then turned to Julian. “What did you do that for?”
“What?”
“Invite her? I’m sure she has work to do.”
“Because it’ll be fun,” he said. “And Ellie looks like she could use some fun.”
“Maids don’t need to have fun,” Bernice pouted, then left to fetch her coat.
Julian stared after her and shook his head. Of the two women, he’d say Ellie was likely to be married before Bernice ever was. Bernice was more than a little spoiled; Ellie was not. Bernice blurted things out whenever and wherever, but Ellie clearly knew how to hold her tongue – she’d demonstrated it on several occasions. Bernice was pouty and immature and more than a bit selfish; Ellie was obviously more mature.
But there was a sadness in Ellie’s eyes, and he wondered what had put it there. Perhaps he should find out.
A few moments later Ellie and Betsy emerged from the kitchen and joined the rest of the group near the front door. Everyone had a coat on except for Ellie, who’d wrapped a shawl tightly around herself. They left the Vanders’ and walked down Cherry Street to Main, then up Main to Chestnut.
When they reached the house they lined themselves up in front of it and stared. Julian had always liked the Ferguson place and had often imagined himself, Garrett or Morgan living there with a wife and family. Of the three of them, Garrett was the one best able to afford it, which was okay. Morgan and Julian both had living quarters where they worked and each was fine with what they had for now. Besides, with the amount of children Garrett wanted, he’d need a big place. Of course, it wasn’t as big as his parents’ home, but it would suit him. He could put at least two or three children in each of the two other bedrooms.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Bernice asked. “Let’s see if we can go inside!”
“Do you think Pastor Adams would mind?” Mercy asked.
“No, Mother, I don’t think he would,” Garrett said. He took Ammy by the hand and went up the porch steps to the front door. Julian glanced at Ellie, smiled, then offered her his arm. She took it tentatively with a shy smile of her own. Bernice, of course, grabbed his other arm and started to pull them both toward the front steps. Julian could hear Cecil chuckling behind them, and gritted his teeth.
Sure enough, the door was unlocked and they entered. One of the advantages of a small town was that everyone knew everyone else, and unlocked doors were a common occurrence. Besides, there was nothing in the house to steal. “Oh my, the rooms certainly do look large without furniture in them,” Mercy said. “And you’re right, Bernice, the parlor is huge!”
“I told you so,” she said and let go of Julian’s arm. “I’ve never been upstairs. Who wants to go with me? Julian?”
“You’ll come too, won’t you?” he asked Ellie.
“Of course she will,” Bernice chimed in. “We can’t very well be upstairs by ourselves without a chaperone.”
Julian blanched. “Chaperone?” Oh, no … He led Ellie to the bottom of the staircase and shook his head. He was going to have to have a talk with Bernice, and it wasn’t going to be pretty. With Ellie on his arm he ascended the stairs after Bernice.
Cecil and Betsy followed. “Have you been in this house before?” Cecil asked her
“Ain’t no house in Independence I ain’t been in,” she told him. “Folks get sick and need a pot of soup. There’s holidays, parties, committee meetings…”
“For a maid you’re a very busy woman, Betsy,” Cecil said with a smile.
“I do my best,” she said with a wink.
Bernice reached the top of the stairs and hurried down the hall to inspect the bedrooms. Julian glanced around then looked at Ellie. “How do you like it?”
She gave him another shy smile. “It’s a grand home, to be sure. Of course, it’s not like the Vanders’ home or the Brocks’, but I could live here and be very happy.”
“Was the last home you worked in a big one?”
She swallowed hard. “No, nothing like this.”
“Garrett’s home must seem quite large to you, then.”
“Yes, it does.”
“Wow, look at the big window in here
!” Bernice cried from down the hall.
Julian leaned down toward Ellie and noticed the lemony scent of her hair. “Shall we go have a look?” he asked softly. Perhaps he was being improper, but he couldn’t help it. There was just something about her that made him want to take her in his arms and hold her, comfort her, let her know that things would be all right. He sensed with every fiber of his being that it was what she needed.
“Okay,” she said just as softly.
Unable to help himself, he put a hand on the arm she had hooked around his and led her toward the bedroom. He noticed as they walked down the hall that Cecil and Betsy had gone quiet, and knew that they were watching him. Perhaps it was a good thing they did. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he were alone with Ellie Sampson.
Eight
“A travesty is what it was, an absolute travesty,” Cecil lamented.
Professor Hamilton lit a pipe and took a few good puffs. “Travesty, you say? How so?” They were seated in the small back room of the bookshop, discussing Cecil’s afternoon at the Vanders’.
“It’s obvious Julian Smythe and Ellie have an attraction between them.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Oh, come now, you saw it plain as day at the café earlier.”
“Well then, what say we sit back and let nature take its course? I always did like watching a romance blossom.”
“That’s just it – nothing is going to blossom so long as that flibbertigibbet Bernice Caulder keeps interrupting it.”
“Oh yes, dear Bernice. Poor thing seems quite taken with Julian, doesn’t she?”
“That’s because he’s the only one around to be taken by – at least, within twenty years of her age. But perhaps if there was another young man …”
“Like whom?”
“Garrett has mentioned someone named Bernard, recently arrived.”
“Bernard … oh yes, must mean the Rudshaw boy.”
“Yes, that’s it. What about him?”
“I don’t recall him having any sort of an eye for Bernice. Of course he hasn’t been around for at least a year – he’s been working at his uncle’s farm near Portland. Haven’t seen him since he’s been back. There’s also Jess Templeton, but he won’t be back from school for another few months.”
“That counts him out then. But this Bernard fellow hasn’t seen Bernice yet, as far as we know?”
The Professor eyed Cecil as he puffed on his pipe. “Just what have you got swirling around in that creative mind of yours, dear fellow? You’re plotting something, aren’t you?”
Cecil rubbed his hands together. “That I am. After all, sometimes young love needs a little help, don’t you think?”
“Cecil, you’re worse than an idle woman. Count me in.”
“I knew you’d agree. Now here’s my plan – it’s twofold, actually. We help Bernice get her man ...”
“You mean Julian?
“I mean any man except Julian. Bernard is the best candidate at present.”
“I don’t know, Cecil – as I said before, I don’t think Bernard has any interest in Bernice. Frankly, if I was Bernard, I don’t think I would either.”
“That’s just it – we give him a new Bernice.”
“A new Bernice? Good heavens, man, what are you talking about?”
Cecil reached behind him to a shelf full of books, grabbed one, and set it on the small table between them. “I’m talking about this.”
Professor Hamilton leaned over and read the title. “Ovid’s Metamorphoses?” he said in confusion. Then comprehension struck. “The story of Pygmalion and Galatea?”
Cecil grinned, nodding sagely.
The Professor looked at Cecil and smiled. “Well, what do you know ...”
“Bernice just lacks a bit of polish, is all. Nothing a charm school couldn’t cure, but I doubt her parents are about to send her to one any time soon.”
“You’re quite right – even if we suggested it, I doubt they’d have the funds to see it through. We’d be doing her a huge favor taking her on.”
“Of course we would, and you have plenty of books that will help.”
“Books? My dear fellow, if I’m going to undertake this endeavor with you, I’m not going to rely on books to get the job done. Loaning young Miss Caulder a few volumes on grace and charm isn’t going to put a dent in her problem, I’m afraid.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“We need to teach her. We’re both men of the world, well-versed in etiquette and manners, are we not?”
“Well … yes, but wouldn’t it be improper, two old codgers like us hanging around a girl like that?”
“Not if we bring Betsy into it. If she’s there, there’ll be no question of impropriety. Besides, Bernice likes to read, so she’s in here all the time.”
“You’re quite right! I’ll speak with Betsy right away.”
The Professor set his pipe down and leaned toward him. “You do realize, of course, that this plan could backfire.”
“Backfire? Whatever are you talking about?”
“What if we turn Bernice into a true charmer … and she catches Julian’s eye? What then? Poor little Ellie’s left out in the cold.”
Cecil pondered that for a moment. “We could ... teach her too. Both young ladies would benefit, as would any future husband that came along. Besides, it will give us something to do.”
“Now there’s a point. It has been rather dull around here lately since the Christmas pageant – we haven’t had any excitement since Mr. Tindle tossed Eunice Brubauk onto the stage after the parade.” He snatched up his pipe. “I could use a good project. Let’s do it.”
“Splendid!”
“When do we start?”
“As soon as I speak with Betsy. I’m sure she’ll love the idea!”
* * *
“I hate it!” Betsy exclaimed. “That is just the most foolish thing I’ve ever heard. It’ll never work.”
“But Betsy,” Cecil implored, “think of the benefit to these two young ladies …”
Betsy turned from him and fussed with something on the stove. As usual, he’d come over while she cooked the Vanders’ dinner. It was his new habit of late. “I don’t know about Bernice, but Ellie’d never go for it.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t know, Cecil, but she seems so down in the mouth sometimes. Something’s bothering that child, and she won’t tell me what.”
Cecil shrugged. “Maybe it’s because of her attraction to Julian.”
“Why would that make her sad?”
“She’s a maid, he’s a …”
“An undertaker? What’s the difference? A job’s a job. Besides, there ain’t no social ladder with the Smythes, anymore than there is with the Vanders.”
“You know that, and I know that, but does she?”
Betsy raised an eyebrow at that. “Mm-hmm. I see your point. But she knows about us, don’t she? I mean, I’m only a maid ...”
“You’re not only anything,” he replied.
She smiled at him. “And you’re a high and mighty businessman come out here from N’awlins …”
“See here now,” he said. “What do you mean calling me ‘high and mighty’?”
“You know what I mean,” she said. But then her expression turned serious. “You know, I wonder about it, though. Maybe she does too.”
“Wonder about what?”
“You being all successful and whatnot, coming out here and dallying with the likes of me.”
Cecil got up from the kitchen table, went to her, took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “I take umbrage with that – I’m not dallying with you!”
“Mm-hmm. ‘S what they all say.”
He gazed at her in shock and anger. “Is that what you think I’ve been doing these past few weeks? Dallying?”
She sighed. “Ain’t it only a matter of time before you go back, Mr. Winters?”
“Mr. Winters now, is it? Well, I’ll have
you know that’s not the case at all!”
She eyed him cautiously. “Really? And you think Julian Smythe’ll have anything to do with Ellie other than a flirtation?”
“Of course he will – I can see it in his eyes.”
Betsy looked at him, eyes moist. “You know, I’ve been thinking about it and thinking about it, and know that I ain’t no high society matron. I’m just a li’l ol’ maid in a li’l ol’ town full of crazy people. Why would you stay?”
Cecil swallowed and gazed into her eyes. “Because I care about you, Betsy. Because I …”
“You what?”
He swallowed and took a deep breath. “Because I love you.”
“OH MY!” someone squealed from the other side of the kitchen door that led out into the hall.
Betsy rolled her eyes, extracted herself from Cecil’s grip and marched over to it, just in time to see Mr. and Mrs. Vander hightail it into the parlor. “Eavesdropping again …” She shook her head and looked at Cecil. “Well at least I can say I got witnesses.”
“Who was that? Who was listening in?”
“The Vanders, who else?”
“They heard me tell you that I loved you?”
“Mm-hmm. And if I know Mr. Vander, the whole town’ll know by tomorrow night. So now what are ya gonna do?”
“Let them know it’s true.”
Betsy bit her lower lip and closed her eyes.
Cecil crossed the kitchen and took her into his arms. “And I’ll prove it.”
A tear escaped. “Now see what you gone and done? You got me upset!”
“Upset? Because I said I love you?”
She shook her head, unable to speak.
“Betsy, I do love you. Won’t you give me the chance to prove it?”
“The fact that I ain’t nobody don’t bother you?”
“No – why would it?”
“’Cause I heard Ammy tell Garrett …”
Cecil blanched. “You heard her tell him what?”
She gulped. “I know who you are, Cecil. And I know what. I also know I ain’t nothin’ compared to you.”