by Merry Farmer
“Thanks.” She smiled at Josephine and pushed herself to her feet. “I’m trying to make everything look perfect for the business on Friday.” She sent Josephine a significant look.
“It already looks much better,” Josephine reassured her. “Piper will love it when she gets back this autumn. She has always done what she can with the garden, but she’s had her hands full with those kids.”
“Piper,” Elspeth gasped. “Oh dear, it just now dawned on me. Does Piper expect to live with all of us when she comes back?” She’d known that was the arrangement when she agreed to marry Athos, but now, after all they’d shared, the idea of having another woman in the house with them was…unsettling.
“I’m suddenly wondering if Piper might be more comfortable striking out on her own,” Josephine said, a sly grin on her face as she studied Elspeth.
“I—”
“I’m surprised that poor woman hasn’t turned tail and run long before this,” Mrs. Plover interrupted, as though she’d been a part of the conversation from the beginning.
“I beg your pardon?” Josephine snapped.
“Do you really think she’ll come back from Connecticut at all?” Mrs. Abernathy sniffed. “That poor woman was a virtual slave to those horrible children.”
“Excuse me.” Elspeth rounded on the women, planting her hands on her hips in spite of the dirt on her gardening gloves. “The Strong children are wonderful, sweet things.
Both women snorted with laughter, shaking their heads and sneering.
“If you believe that,” Mrs. Plover said, “you’re as crazy as everyone says you are.”
Elspeth’s jaw dropped, but her anger was eclipsed by a sinking sense of dread. She knew the looks that the two women across the garden fence from her wore. They were the same sort of looks the wives and friends of the wives of the families she’d worked for—the families whose husbands had assumed she would provide more services than tutoring children—had given her. In the last few days, since Athos had come into her life, she hadn’t given those women or that sense of worthlessness a second thought. She didn’t want to now, but old habits died hard.
“Nobody is saying Elspeth is crazy,” Josephine said, crossing her arms and giving both women hard looks. “You two, on the other hand…”
Mrs. Plover and Mrs. Abernathy shared a decidedly snooty glance.
“Maybe the people you associate yourself with aren’t saying that,” Mrs. Abernathy said.
“Anyone who would shackle herself to a booby like Athos Strong must be a little weak in the head,” Mrs. Plover added.
In seconds, Elspeth was enraged enough to spit at the women. She held onto her temper by a thread. “If you think—”
“They don’t.” Josephine put a hand on Elspeth’s arm to stop her from surging forward. She glared at the two, sour women. “Those two don’t have enough sense between them to think anything at all.”
“Why, I have never been so insulted,” Mrs. Plover said. “Come along, Jill.” She tugged at Mrs. Abernathy’s sleeve. The two woman marched off, their noses in the air.
The confrontation was over, and an unsettling feeling of disappointment and worry rushed in as anger left Elspeth.
“Don’t pay any attention to those two,” Josephine said. She cocked her head to the side, then added, “Or Beata Kline, for that matter. Every town has its sour old biddies, and those three fill the role for Haskell.”
Elspeth faced Josephine with a weak smile. “Thank you. I’m sure you’re right. But after everything Athos and the children have gone through, I am ready to strangle anyone who would disparage them.”
Josephine chuckled. “That makes two of us.”
Josephine left her to go about her business, and Elspeth crouched to return to weeding. Anger had pushed the pain out of her thoughts for a moment, but it came back again as soon as she tried to squat. She didn’t know whether to cry or laugh at the protest from her thighs, knowing how much housework had gone into making them so sore in the first place. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry over the fickle course of neighbors and reputations either. How long would it be until someone in town heard whispers about Elspeth’s past and how she’d come to be at Hurst Home—or in America—to begin with?
Those and other irritating thoughts stayed with her, building and building, until she pulled up a handful of difficult weeds and was stung by a bee on her wrist for her efforts. She wheeled back, hissing, “Ouch, ouch,” and landed hard on her backside on the front walk with a shock of soreness. The irritating pain, the horrible neighbors, and the uncertainty of everything with the children and the future doubled back on her, and for all those reasons and no reason at all, she burst into tears.
“Elspeth? Elspeth!”
Suddenly, Athos was there. She hadn’t heard him coming, but once second she was sitting on her sore backside, sucking the sting on her wrist, shedding pointless tears, and the next he was rushing around the garden fence and crouching by her side. He held a bouquet in one hand and a small box in the other, but pulled her into his arms all the same.
“Sweetheart, what’s the matter?”
Her pointless tears flashed to equally absurd laughter. “I was stung by a bee. Can you believe it? With everything else that’s going on, I’m weeping because I was stung by a bee.” She circled her arms around his shoulders and rested her forehead against his neck.
“All right,” he chuckled. “You’re okay.” He rocked back and sat with a thump, shifting her to sit in his arms.
Elspeth lifted her head and blinked around through tear-blurred eyes. She shook her head. “Athos, we’re sitting on the path in the middle of the front yard. Any number of our neighbors could walk by and think we’re out of our minds.”
“I don’t care. I like you in my arms this way.” He grinned like a beautiful fool, then kissed her. It was lovely and absurd at the same time.
“What are you doing home so early?” she asked when he finally kissed away her tears and let her go for a breath.
“Ah.” A gleam filled his eyes and he helped her to her feet. “Howard Haskell accepted my request for a raise and an assistant.”
“Oh, Athos, I’m so happy for you.”
“Happy for us,” he corrected her. “So I bought you these on the way home.”
First he held out the bouquet. “For me?”
“Absolutely. I want to bring you flowers every day.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” he insisted.
She started to smell the flowers, then stopped and eyed them suspiciously. “There are no bees in them, I trust.”
“They wouldn’t dare,” he insisted. “No one, no bee, would dare offend the lady of a musketeer.”
Elspeth laughed out loud at that and went to hug him.
He stopped her, holding up a hand and taking a step back. “And to prove that you’re the lady of a musketeer, I bought you this.”
He held out the small box, opening it to reveal a simple wedding ring. It wasn’t expensive or fancy, just a gold band with a rose vine etched onto the surface. Elspeth gasped as though it was the richest jewel in the Queen’s crown.
“It’s beautiful.” Now she was crying in earnest.
Athos took her hand and slipped the ring on. “I feel like I should be asking a question before I put this ring on your finger.”
“But the answer’s already been given and then some,” she finished his thought.
“Exactly.” With the ring on her finger, he slipped the box back into his pocket, then drew her into his arms for a kiss that the neighbors really shouldn’t see. Even that was simply perfect.
“Now all we need is the children home and life will be complete,” he said, breaking their kiss.
“Two days,” Elspeth sighed. “Two days and we can put this mess behind us.”
“Do you believe I’ll win this appeal, Elspeth?” he asked with enough seriousness and concern to send Elspeth’s heart pounding with love and sym
pathy.
“Yes, of course I do, Athos.” She kissed him lightly, then went on. “You are the best father a child could have and the best husband too.”
“I’ve never been—”
“Well you are now,” she cut him off, hugging him tight. “And on Friday the two of us are going to walk into that courtroom, tell the judge this has all been some sort of stupid mistake made by vengeful nobodies, and then we’ll bring our family home.”
Chapter 12
The flurry of activity that had surrounded Athos and Elspeth since the moment Elspeth stepped down from the train a week ago was suddenly transformed into an expectant hush as Friday dawned. Athos had had a hard time sleeping. His thoughts refused to settle throughout the night. What if the judge sided with the dreadful Mrs. Lyon and the Bonnevilles? What if his dear, sweet, amazing children were taken away permanently, split up, and placed in institutions, or worse, with families who didn’t love them? What if he truly was a failure as a father?
“It will be all right,” Elspeth spoke out of the blue as the first rays of morning sunlight peeked through the curtains. “Everything will go our way, I’m certain.”
“Are you?” He lay on his back, but turned to face her now, holding her close against him.
Elspeth smiled. He could only just see it in the dim light, but it ignited his soul all the same. “Yes, I’m certain. The more I’ve come to know your friends here in Haskell, the more I’m seeing that if you hadn’t just married me, if they didn’t think it would be grand for the two of us to have some sort of a honeymoon, they all would have moved heaven and earth to make sure the children were back under this roof after one night.”
He stared hard at her. “Are you certain you’re certain?”
“Yes,” she said with a peal of laughter. “How could you expect a man with Howard Haskell’s power—a man who gave you a raise above what the railroad pays you and is hiring an assistant for you to boot—would not swoop in and write a new law to keep your children with you if he had to?”
Athos tilted his head in thought. “You know, you’re right.” He blinked and sought out Elspeth’s eyes in the growing light. “I am going to win this hearing, aren’t I?”
“Yes, dear.” She brushed her fingertips along the side of his face, then combed them through his hair, sending arrows of longing straight through him.
There was no time for shenanigans, though. They had a trial to prepare for. Elspeth got up, and while she gathered her clothes and stole away downstairs to clean up and dress, Athos got out of bed and started his own clean-up process. Sounds of breakfast being prepared gradually made their way upstairs as he washed, shaved, and dressed. As he did, he said a long, heartfelt prayer of thanks to God for all of his many blessings. He felt as though anything was possible by the time he was ready to head downstairs and join his remarkable wife for breakfast.
“Oh my, look at you,” Elspeth declared, eyes shining, when he walked into the kitchen.
“What?” He glanced down at his Sunday suit, hoping it wasn’t stained or he hadn’t put it on wrong.
Elspeth left the counter where she was buttering toast and came over to straighten his tie and brush her fingers through his carefully combed hair. He’d shaved and brushed his teeth to boot, even though he was about to eat. In fact, Elspeth stared at him as though she might like to gobble him up. He had to work not to scramble out of his clothes and do things on the kitchen table they would regret later.
“You, Mr. Athos Strong, musketeer, clean up very well,” she said at last, pressing her hands to her pink, pink cheeks.
“Do I?” He took another look at himself. He had put extra effort into things. That hardly mattered. “You look like a fine and noble lady yourself today, wife of mine.”
It was her turn to glance down at her dress—a pretty one made of blue material that contrasted perfectly with her porcelain complexion and dark hair. “Then we shall make the perfect picture of competent, responsible parents when we step into that courtroom today.”
He was certain beyond doubt that she was right. It was the first time he was certain of anything, without any reservation, in as long as he could remember. They ate their breakfast while discussing the strategies they had planned with Solomon in meetings over the last week. Solomon was a true friend to come to their aid so selflessly, in spite of having his own business to run.
After breakfast and clean-up, they said a quick prayer together, then headed out, up Prairie Avenue and across Elizabeth Street to the town hall arm-in-arm. Maybe it was smug of him to strut so confidently, considering the order of the day, but with Elspeth on his arm, approving of his appearance, and with the morning they’d spent, how could he help but crow.
The town hall was already crowded by the time they arrived. All of the major players were there waiting, including the children.
“Papa! Papa!” they shouted from the far corner.
Mrs. Lyon stood with them on one side, wearing her stuffy grey suit and a peevish expression. Her guards lounged between her and the children, looking exhausted and put-out. The Bonneville clan, complete with sisters, Rex, and Cousin Rance, and an embarrassed-looking Bonnie stood nearby as well. None of them was fast enough to stop the Strong children when they saw their father and bolted.
“Papa, you look so handsome,” Ivy declared breathlessly as the mass of children rushed across the room and into Athos and Elspeth’s arms.
“You do, you do!” Millicent agreed, jumping up and down.
“You’re almost too handsome to mess up with hugs,” Heather said.
“Never,” Athos declared, scooping as many of his children into his arms as he could for hugs and kisses.
“You look really pretty too, Lady Elspeth,” Vernon said, staring at her with a boyish blush.
“Dear heavens, don’t call me Lady anything.” Elspeth threw her arms around Vernon as if he were her own son.
“That’s what Miss Vivian and Miss Melinda say we have to call you,” Geneva informed her.
Elspeth let go of Vernon to hug her. “Well, I think we all know what we can do with the opinions of Misses Vivian and Melinda.”
Her simple comment was like opening the floodgates. “You’ll never guess what Miss Melinda did yesterday,” Lael began.
At the same time, Ivy blurted, “Miss Vivian smears her face with buttermilk and mashed cucumbers at night!”
“Miss Bebe doesn’t know how to tie her own shoes.”
“Miss Melinda sat on a pinecone.”
And on and on, all in a single rush of whispers and giggles.
Elspeth was roaring with laughter by the time Mrs. Lyon and her thugs marched over.
“Stop, stop, stop!” Mrs. Lyon scolded. “This is highly irregular and forbidden!”
It took all of Athos’s powers of restraint to hold his tongue and not tell the shrewish woman exactly what he thought of her. Instead, he drew from the immense calm and beauty of the morning as it had unfolded so far and bowed like any good musketeer would. “Good morning, Mrs. Lyon.”
“Wha—” Mrs. Lyon stared at him as though he had a frog on each shoulder, mouth hanging open. She shut it, shook her head, and huffed an impatient breath. “Good morning, Mr. Strong, Mrs. Strong. Get away from these children.”
“These are my children,” Athos said, surprised that he wasn’t throttling the woman. “They only came over here to say good morning to their papa and their new mama.”
“That’s right, you are our new mama,” Lael said.
“Wait, are we supposed to call you Mama or Lady Elspeth?” Millicent asked.
“Mama was Mama,” Hubert said, frowning as though he’d just been presented with a mathematical problem.
“We discussed this before. You can call me just Elspeth,” Elspeth laughed, ruffling Lael’s hair.
“But shouldn’t we—”
“Ugh, there he is.” Before anything else could be resolved, the Bonneville sisters left their spot at the side of the room and flounced over to
join the Strongs. Or rather, Vivian, Melinda, and Bebe flounced, Honoria slunk.
“Lady Elspeth,” Melinda said. “You don’t have to stand by that odious man if you don’t want to.”
“Yes, we’ll shelter you. We will always shelter people of quality and breeding,” Vivian added.
“You’re too good for him,” Bebe finished. “We’re too good for him too.”
Elspeth’s mouth dropped. She snuck a look at Athos. He just stood there grinning, eager to see how she would talk her way through this spectacle.
“Elspeth is nice,” Thomas piped up. “I want to call her Mama. My other mama died before I could call her anything.”
“Mrs. Lyon, aren’t you supposed to be preventing these children from associating with their negligent father or bothering Lady Elspeth?” Vivian snapped.
Athos’s annoyance was only outmatched by the surprise of Vivian sneering so viciously at a woman he thought was her ally.
“Yeah, do your job,” Bebe added.
Evidently, the week hadn’t been a pleasant one out at the Bonneville ranch. One covert glimpse at the children’s knowing smirks and attempts not to laugh was proof of that.
“I would do my job if I had any sort of support,” Mrs. Lyon snapped. “But no, I’ve been stuck with a bunch of preening, uptight, snobbish harpies who wouldn’t know the meaning of discipline if it slapped them in the face, which I would very much like to do.”
The children burst into snorts and giggles. Athos had a hard time keeping his own reaction in check. Elspeth covered her mouth with one gloved hand and turned partially away. It only got worse from there.
“Well, if someone wasn’t such a sour old hypocrite, things would have gone much better,” Melinda bit out.
“Me, a hypocrite?” Mrs. Lyon pressed a hand to her chest and gawped.
“You, madam, are the biggest hypocrite that has ever walked this earth,” Vivian said, drawing herself up to her full height and staring down her nose at the woman. “You give yourself airs and pretend to be everyone’s friend, then the moment it works to your advantage, you go running to papa in an attempt to stab them in the back. Every fruitful idea we have had for dealing with these wretched children you have attempted to steal and pass off as your own, and every time the winds were blowing against you, you attempted to throw us to the wolves instead of facing responsibility yourself.”