by Delia Parr
Mark dropped his eyes for a moment. “No. She doesn’t. We didn’t want to tell her anything until we had an opportunity to discuss it with you first,” he admitted. “Catherine and I both know we’re asking a great deal of you, but if you don’t want Wryn here, we’re at a loss as to what to do with her.”
The look of total desperation in Mark’s gaze tugged at Emma’s heartstrings. Though reluctant to refuse his request—at least outright—she was even more reluctant to get involved in another family dispute, even if it was her own.
Not after stepping into the middle of one between James and Andrew Leonard only last fall at the request of their eighty-one-year-old mother. Although the two brothers had eventually reconciled and their mother, whom Emma affectionately called Aunt Frances now, had become a beloved member of Emma’s extended family, Emma had no desire to involve herself in a situation that was far more complicated and held much less promise of a successful solution.
“What about Wryn’s mother? Does she approve of having Wryn come here to live?”
“Honestly, we haven’t discussed it with her, either. She’s more concerned about her other children.”
“Even if I could accept that,” Emma argued, “I still can’t understand why Georgina didn’t have some inkling that there was going to be trouble between Wryn and Mr. . . .”
“Gordon.”
Emma nodded. “Mr. Gordon and his daughters. She must have known there was going to be a problem before she married him, even if he didn’t.”
Mark shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose you’re right, but given her dire circumstances, she probably didn’t feel like she had much of a choice. With four minor children at her skirts, she didn’t have a long line of suitors at her door.”
“Probably not,” Emma admitted, struck by the stark difference in circumstances that existed for both Emma and Georgina as they each faced widowhood. The wealth Emma had been blessed to inherit had given her many advantages throughout her life, not the least of which was the security of knowing she would always be able to provide for her children even after her husband died. Her circumstances had also kept her from ever being forced to choose between her husband and any one of her children—a choice no woman should ever have to make.
“Isn’t there some way Wryn’s mother can broker a peace between her new husband and his daughters and Wryn?” Emma asked.
“She tried. More than once. So did her husband. Pastor Bonn tried, as well. But Wryn simply refused to have any part of it. She claims her two stepsisters are at fault and denies any responsibility for the estrangement within the household.”
Perplexed, Emma shook her head. “You told me what Wryn has done with you and Catherine, but do you know why she’s been so difficult?”
Mark swallowed hard. “Catherine thinks Wryn is deliberately misbehaving with us because she thinks we’ll be able to force her mother to take her back into the household. Unfortunately, Georgina refused to do that only a day before we left Albany, although Wryn doesn’t know that.”
He paused and locked his gaze with his mother’s. “All I know is that while I can sympathize with Wryn’s situation, she simply cannot live with us any longer. She needs a firmer hand than either Catherine or I can give her,” he admitted. “With Catherine carrying a new babe, I simply can’t allow Wryn to continue to upset her.”
“Catherine’s teeming again? Truly?” Emma exclaimed.
Mark’s broad smile eased the tension that had tightened his expression. “We expect to have a new brother or sister for our boys in September,” he whispered. “Obviously, we haven’t told Paul or Jonas yet. We haven’t told anyone. Not even Wryn knows.”
“I’m so happy for you,” she whispered back as her heart leaped. Learning she had another grandchild on the way was one joy she had not expected to be part of her reunion with her sons and their families, but agreeing to take on the responsibility of a troubled fifteen-year-old was not something she had expected, either. As much as she did not want to disappoint Mark or Catherine, Emma could only envision the chaos Wryn was bound to bring to Hill House with her.
As it was, life at Hill House for the past few months had proven to be uncommonly chaotic. The quiet months of winter usually gave Emma and her Hill House family an opportunity to rest and recover from the hectic pace of operating a boardinghouse during guest season, which lasted from May to October each year, when the canal was open.
Just this past January, however, Emma had opened Hill House to several families whose homes had been damaged or destroyed after an explosion at the match factory in town had unleashed a fire that had quickly spread. After nearly twenty people had left, Emma had scarcely had time to prepare for her sons’ visits. Since there would be no time at all for anyone here at Hill House to rest up before paying guests began to arrive in early May, Emma was hardly prepared to consider taking on the responsibility of a troubled young woman.
Emma also had to consider how this young woman’s presence in her life would complicate her plans for the future. Zachary Breckenwith had asked her again only today to marry him, but she suspected he might reconsider his proposal if Wryn became part of Emma’s household.
“I’ve upset you,” Mark ventured. “I didn’t mean to—”
“What? No. No, you haven’t upset me,” Emma replied and realized she was wearing a frown. “You know I’m always here for you and Catherine to help you any way that I can, but . . . but I’d have to give this a lot of thought before I could agree to have Wryn live here with me. I also have to consider your grandmother. I couldn’t take on a responsibility like this without discussing this with her first. And, well . . . I hadn’t planned on telling you this until your brothers had arrived with their families, but . . . but I’m considering getting married again.”
Mark’s eyes widened. “You are?”
“Yes, I am.”
“But you never mentioned anything about getting married in any of your letters,” he argued.
“No, I didn’t, and I haven’t actually agreed to marry him yet. I’ve only allowed him to start courting me this past month or so, and I’ve promised to give him my answer once all of us have had an opportunity to spend time together for my birthday,” she explained. Pausing, she carefully studied the expression on his face for any hint that he might find the prospect of his mother getting married again to be problematic.
To her gracious relief, his gaze softened, and he reached out to take her hand. “Does this very intelligent, very wise man who’s decided to pursue my mother have a name?”
“He does,” Emma murmured as her cheeks flushed. “How can you be certain he’s either intelligent or wise?”
“Because he chose you,” her son replied as he squeezed her hand. “What’s his name?”
“Zachary Breckenwith. He’s the nephew of my previous lawyer. You do remember him, don’t you?”
“Of course. He came by the General Store quite often.”
“Yes, he did. Initially, Mr. Breckenwith came to Candlewood to help his uncle with his law practice when he took ill, but that was right around the time you were getting ready to leave for Albany, so the two of you never met. After his uncle passed on, Mr. Breckenwith decided to move here permanently to help his aunt Elizabeth. He’s living in their house on Main Street, as it turns out, which he purchased after his aunt passed on last year.”
“So he’s been your lawyer?”
“For about five years now,” she replied without bothering to mention that Zachary still insisted she needed to retain another lawyer to represent her while they were courting.
“Then you know him well.”
“Yes.”
Mark smiled. “And he knows you well.”
Her cheeks got warmer. “Yes, I believe he does. Would you . . . I mean, how would you feel if I decided to marry again?”
“I think I’d be relieved, as well as disappointed.”
She caught her breath for a moment. Although she appreciated the fact that he was a
s honest with her now as he had always been, she was still taken aback by his reply. “Disappointed?” she prompted, upset by the thought she would disappoint any of her sons, especially her youngest.
“Yes. I’m disappointed that you would think I wouldn’t approve of anyone you chose to marry, but I am truly, truly relieved to know that you will have someone by your side to love you and care for you, just as Father always did.”
Tears welled and she blinked them back while she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “Thank you, Mark.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “It appears that we couldn’t have brought this problem of ours to your doorstep at a worse time. The last thing you need in your life right now is to take on responsibility for Wryn. Forget I asked. I’ll talk to Catherine tonight. We’ll simply have to find another way to—”
“No. Please don’t. Not yet. You’re my son, Mark, and I love Catherine like she was my own daughter simply because she’s your wife and she loves you. She’s also given me two darling grandsons I am looking forward to spoiling for the next few weeks, as well as the promise of another grandchild come fall. We’re family, and if we can’t count on our family to help us when we have a problem, then we can’t count on anyone,” she insisted as she got to her feet. “Let me pray for a few days about what we might do for Wryn to help her the very best way we can. In the meantime, there are two little ones in your grams’ kitchen I’d like to cuddle a bit.”
He laughed as he got up from his chair. “If they’re having a snack like Catherine suggested, now might not be the best time to cuddle them,” he cautioned. “They’re still a bit messy with their food, despite our best efforts.”
“And you weren’t?” she teased as they headed out of the library into the center hallway to the kitchen.
“Was I messy?” he asked, as if troubled by the very thought.
“Not really,” she admitted. “You were never a messy child. You were as quiet and deliberate at mealtimes as you were when you were doing most anything because you were never very far from the books you loved then and love even now.”
“Mark?”
Emma looked up to see Catherine coming down the center staircase with a worried look on her face.
“What’s wrong?” her son asked as he hurried to meet his wife at the bottom of the staircase.
“It’s Wryn. I went up to her room to let her know that we’d found Jonas and to see if she wanted something to eat, but she’s not there. She’s gone.”
“She’s probably upset that she was sent to her room and wasn’t allowed to help look for Jonas. She couldn’t very well come downstairs, since we were all here, but she may have wandered up to the garret, where Liesel and Ditty have their rooms. I’ll check there for you,” Emma said.
Catherine let out a sigh. “You can check, but I doubt you’ll find her there,” she insisted before Emma could start up the stairs. “Her cape is missing, along with her reticule. I think she may have run off.”
5
VENTURING OUTDOORS AGAIN to look for Wryn, after spending hours riding in the rain, was about as appealing to Emma as eating a warm hunk of bread without a thick layer of butter on top.
Wearing Mother Garrett’s rain cape that was too big for her, an old pair of boots left behind by a previous guest that were too wide, and a pair of gloves that were too tight did not help Emma’s mood, either. She held on to Mark with one arm as they made their way through the drizzle down the steep hill to Main Street.
The cobblestones beneath her feet were slick, and her feet slid from side to side inside her boots as she walked, making her feel clumsy.
“If Wryn has no coin, she won’t get very far,” Emma said, hoping to ease the worry from her son’s face. “She couldn’t leave Candlewood even if she did. The stage doesn’t come through for a few days yet, and the canal won’t be open again for a few weeks.”
Mark let out a sigh. “To be honest, I’m less worried about Wryn leaving Candlewood than I am about having her stay here. From what I could see when we drove down Main Street earlier today, there are far too many ways for a young woman like Wryn to get herself into trouble.”
“Once the weather warms a bit more and the canal opens, the town will be brimming with strangers and all sorts of dangers, perhaps, but not now,” Emma countered, hoping to ease his concerns. “Candlewood has grown a great deal since you’ve left. There are more people living here now and the business district is filled with all sorts of new businesses, but I can’t see how any young woman could get into any sort of real trouble here, even Wryn.”
“That might be true for most young women, but not her,” Mark countered. “You have no idea, no idea at all, of the trouble she can get herself into.”
When they reached the bottom of the hill, they turned south on Main Street and walked past a number of smaller cross streets, including the one where Zachary lived and worked, which she pointed out to her son. Eventually, they reached the planked sidewalk that lined the business district, which had mushroomed since the building of the canal. Area products could now travel to the East Coast by way of the Erie Canal, and new goods were introduced in return, as well as a huge influx of workers and their families who now called Candlewood their home.
Main Street itself held little traffic, which was not unusual for late on a Saturday afternoon. Emma assumed that the dreary weather had probably kept most shoppers at home, though she could not really see through the misty drizzle more than a square or two ahead of them to determine if anyone else was out and about.
Emma patted her son’s arm and smiled. “You have every right to be concerned and you have every right to be upset with Wryn, but please don’t worry. I’m certain she hasn’t gotten into any trouble yet.”
* * *
An hour later, after Emma and her son had followed Wryn’s trail from one shop to another down one side of Main Street all the way to Emerson’s Hotel at the far end, Emma was no longer smiling.
Neither was Mark.
In point of fact, Mark was coldly silent when they left the hotel and headed for the General Store.
“It’s not your fault,” she said. “At least she didn’t register at Emerson’s, too.”
“If she had, she would have insisted on a suite. You can be sure of that,” he gritted. “We should never have brought her here. Never. We should have left her at home. She can cook better than women twice her age, and she’s proven she’s certainly old enough to be able to fend for herself otherwise for a few weeks.”
“That may be true,” Emma replied. “But if you had left her home, how much debt do you think she could have accumulated in your name while you were gone?”
“I’m not certain, but at least it would have been in my name instead of yours,” he grumbled. “I’m so embarrassed that she’s done this to you. I’ll . . . I’ll find a way to pay you back. I will. It may take some time—”
“It’s not your fault,” Emma repeated more insistently as they started to cross the street. She paused for a moment until they made their way around a rather large puddle of mud, since she had already enjoyed the dubious pleasure of sliding into one earlier today. “It’s not your debt, either,” she continued when they had put the mud puddle behind them. “It’s Wryn’s debt, which means she’ll have to pay me back, not you.”
“And just exactly how do you expect a fifteen-year-old girl to pay for a new bonnet from the millinery, not one but two boxes of Belgian chocolates, a French lace shawl of some sort, and a . . . a beaded reticule?” he charged.
“She’ll have to work it off,” Emma stated as they mounted the steps to the planked sidewalk in front of the General Store.
He threw one hand up into the air. “Work it off? She’ll be thirty years old before she could possibly work off the sum she owes you.”
“At least,” Emma quipped.
He stopped just outside the door to the store and shook his head. “I still don’t understand why all those shopkeepers let her put h
er purchases on your account.”
“Since we haven’t passed a single other soul so far, I’d venture to say it’s been a very slow day for most of the businesses. Wryn was probably but one of a handful of shoppers today, which means the shopkeepers would have been anxious for any kind of sale.”
“Still—”
“Candlewood isn’t Albany, Mark,” Emma continued, anxious to get into the General Store to see what kind of damage Wryn had done there to her account. “The town may have changed a lot since you’ve been gone, but it’s still a small town. Everyone here knows Hill House, and they know me. Most everyone has heard by now that you and Warren and Benjamin are all bringing your families home for a visit, too. Even if you hadn’t driven down Main Street earlier with her today, they wouldn’t suspect Wryn wasn’t who she said she was—part of our family.”
“The gossipmongers are still as ravenous as ever, I suppose.”
She chuckled. “That much hasn’t changed, but like I’ve warned you all along, Wryn’s little misadventure today isn’t something I’d like to have them chew on. That’s why I want you to act as if everything Wryn has bought here at the General Store is perfectly legitimate, just like you’ve done at the other shops. How or why Wryn decided to go on a little shopping adventure without permission is something we’ll handle privately, within our family,” she said, even though she considered Wryn to be part of Catherine’s family, not her own.
He scowled. “I’d like to send her, bag and baggage, straight back to her mother where she belongs, whether Georgina likes it or not. Georgina got herself and Wryn into this predicament of theirs, and I have a good mind to let them get themselves out of it.”
“We may eventually have to do that,” Emma said. “In the meantime, let’s go inside. Maybe this time we’ll find Wryn hasn’t left yet.”
“Unless she’s hurried off and moved on to the stationery store we passed on the other side of Main Street. Wryn has an obsession of sorts with writing,” he grumbled while he opened the door for his mother, setting off the bell.