Mount Hope: An Amish tale of Jane Austen's Mansfield Park (The Amish Classics Book 5)

by Sarah Price

  Quickly she left the group and hurried into the house.

  “Fanny!”

  She stiffened at the sound of Naomi’s voice, always full of disapproval for whatever she was or wasn’t doing. “Ja, Aendi?”

  “You need to get that cheese started. It should have already been in the press! What’s taking you so long today?”

  Fanny glanced over at Naomi, who sat in the rocking chair knitting a small washcloth that they would sell to the stores for the tourists. Martha sat on the sofa, listlessly leafing through an old Family Life magazine. From the way she turned the pages, Martha was clearly not reading anything, just shuffling through the pages.

  “I had to help Elijah with the afternoon milking, and then I brought in the laundry from the line before their friends arrived,” Fanny said as she poured the milk from both buckets into two large pots that already sat on the stove.

  “Now careful there! Don’t spill anything!” Naomi shook her head and clicked her tongue. “Honestly, girl. Julia just washed the floor this morning!”

  No, Fanny wanted to say. I washed the floor while Julia ran over to the neighbor’s farm to visit her two friends. But she said nothing and returned her attention to the milk in the pots.

  Naomi set down her knitting and sighed. “The sun must be starting to set. My eyes can hardly see my own stitches.”

  Martha looked up from the magazine she wasn’t reading. “Shall I turn on the light for you?”

  “Nee, I might as well retire to my side of the haus.” She stood up and pressed her hand against the small of her back. “Oh, the aches of aging!” She collected her knitting basket and started to walk toward the door but paused to look back at Fanny. “I reckon that can set overnight, Fanny. You should join the others.”

  Fanny looked up. “The others?”

  Waving her hand toward the door that led to the porch, Naomi frowned at her. “Be social! With the Coblentzes and others. The way you disappear whenever they arrive, it’s almost as if you are avoiding them.”

  Fanny said nothing to refute her aunt’s accusation.

  “Hmmph,” Naomi gave a disapproving shake of her head. “That’s what I thought. And for what reason, I can hardly begin to imagine. Why, that Henry and Mary! They are just the finest of folks. I fail to see why you hide when they visit. It’s rather bad-mannered.” As she slowly walked toward the back door that led to the grossdawdihaus, Naomi mumbled under her breath.

  From the safety of the far side of the kitchen, Fanny rolled her eyes. If only her aunt could see how Henry flirted with both Miriam and Julia while Mary enticed Elijah, perhaps Naomi would change her opinion of just how fine they truly were.

  “You know, Fanny Price,” Naomi said as she opened the door, “it would do you some good to make yourself agreeable to Henry. There aren’t too many young men hanging around our haus now, are there? A wise young woman would try to attract Henry’s attention rather than hide from it!”

  Frustrated, Fanny pressed her lips together and gripped the edge of the counter with her hands, her fingers pressing against it until her knuckles turned white.

  By the time she had the milk at the right temperature, the sun had disappeared behind the barn. The noise of Henry’s laughter caused her to look up. They were coming inside, for the fire had died and the air turned too chilly to continue sitting outside.

  “Come now!” Henry said as he burst through the door. “You know this song.”

  The way his voice was soft and playful made Fanny presume he was talking to Julia. With Jeb around, Henry paid far less attention to Miriam, which seemed to suit Julia quite well.

  Earlier in the week, during one of the Coblentzes’ visits when Jeb was there, Miriam had openly pouted over Henry’s attention being spent on Julia. To Fanny’s surprise, Jeb had taken Miriam by the elbow, insisting that they speak privately. When they returned, Miriam acted more subdued and proper. Certainly she must realize that an unhandsome man with 160 acres was far better than a handsome man with nothing.

  The others followed Henry into the kitchen and sat down in the now vacant sitting area. Thomas laughed as he pulled a chair over from the kitchen table. “Ja, you know the words, Miriam. Sing it with us and the louder the better, I say! After all, we want Aendi Naomi to hear us next door so that she knows we’re behaving ourselves.”

  Fanny rolled her eyes, even though no one could see her. Thomas had crept up the stairs at four in the morning, just about the time Elijah had to arise and tend to the cows. When Fanny had heard the door to Thomas’s room shut and the creaking noise of his bed, she had sighed and once again forced herself to leave her warm, cozy bed.

  In good conscience she couldn’t leave Elijah alone to milk the cows and feed the animals. That just wasn’t fair, and she knew he’d never complain or ask for help. Besides, she missed her special mornings alone with Elijah. It wasn’t even work, in her mind. It was more like a little gift of time that she treasured more than words could say.

  But when Fanny returned with Elijah, Naomi was in the kitchen, scowling at her. In all likelihood, her aunt had known the reason Fanny was awake: Thomas had behaved irresponsibly once again. But rather than praise Fanny, she had scolded her for being late to help prepare breakfast. The only satisfying moment of the morning was Naomi reprimanding Thomas when he finally awoke at ten o’clock, asking him if he could find it in his power to behave for just a few days to give the rest of the family a break from his antics.

  Clearly his comment about singing loudly was in retaliation for Naomi’s complaints.

  Fanny was the only one who didn’t participate in the singing. Instead, she sat at the table and traced circles on the tabletop with her finger. The smudge marks left behind made interesting patterns that she knew she’d have to clean later.

  “Fanny,” Martha called from the other room.

  Eager for a distraction, Fanny hurried into the dark bedroom to see what her aunt needed.

  “I’m feeling rather chilled. Might you fetch me a blanket?” Martha asked.

  “Going to bed so soon, then?” Fanny hurried to the large hope chest that was pressed against the wall near the dresser. It was heavy to open and Fanny struggled to pull out the quilt. “Shall I tell the others to leave?”

  Martha shook her head. “Nee, Fanny,” she said, smiling her appreciation as Fanny covered her with the blanket. “I’m sure that I’ll fall asleep quickly. I simply cannot shake this weary feeling that makes me feel tired all the time.”

  Tired and depressed, Fanny wanted to add. And it had been many years coming.

  She couldn’t blame Martha. Even before Naomi’s husband had died, Naomi had exerted control over her sister. Once the bishop died and Naomi moved into the grossdawdihaus, Martha lost any remaining say in her own household. In the days before the bishop died, Fanny remembered that Naomi visited far too frequently. However, there had been stretches of time when she wasn’t there. On those days Martha appeared so much happier and more cheerful. Now, with Naomi constantly barging through the door that separated the main house from the grossdawdihaus, Martha had shriveled up within herself, each day becoming less of a person and more of an object.

  Fanny wondered why she was the only one who noticed the drastic change in Martha, for surely if anyone else had marked her decline, they would have insisted upon taking her to see a doctor. But Martha’s children were either too self-obsessed or too busy keeping up with the farm to note any changes in their mother.

  “Won’t their singing wake you?” Fanny asked.

  Martha shook her head. “Nee, it will not. Besides I like hearing those hymns. They are easier to understand than the German ones.”

  Her answer surprised Fanny. After all, Timothy was her husband and the head of the household. Surely she knew his rules as well as anyone else. In all of the years that Fanny had been living there, not once had Martha questioned or countered any of Timothy’s rules, no matter if she agreed or disagreed with them.

  After she finished
helping Martha, Fanny quietly stole back out to the kitchen, avoiding the rowdy group singing from the sitting area. She peeked into the pot to check the curds, taking a knife to cut through to see if the pot was ready for draining. If she could only finish the cheese, or at least, get it to the point of being able to drain in a cheesecloth overnight, she would disappear to the safety of her bedroom.

  “What. Is. This?”

  At the sound of the booming voice that addressed the gathering from the door, Fanny dropped the knife, and it fell with a clatter to the floor. When she looked up, she was just as surprised as the rest of them to see Timothy standing there, his hands on his hips and a scowl upon his face.

  “Daed!” Elijah moved away from Mary, as if trying to put a safe distance between them. “You’re back?”

  Timothy ignored the rhetorical question and entered the room, staring at Benjamin, who held the forbidden book in his hands. He crossed the room and, with a fast movement, snatched the book from Benjamin. His eyes glanced at the cover.

  “Mennonite hymns? In English?” First Timothy stared at Benjamin and then at his oldest son. “This is not the Ausbund!” He shoved the book back at Benjamin, pushing it against his chest as he turned to face Thomas. “Was it not bad enough that you misbehaved in Pinecraft? Must you bring your poor judgment and penchant for trouble to my own home?”

  “Daed, I . . . ”

  Timothy silenced him by raising his hand and holding it in the air. He took his time, assessing the situation and looking at each one of the participants. When his gaze fell upon Fanny, standing by the stove, he paused. Fanny wished that she could shrink away, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny of her uncle. When he stepped closer to her, the air escaped her lungs and her shoulders slumped forward. His eyes glanced into the pots and realized that she was in the midst of finishing her chores.

  “I don’t know if I am more surprised by your lack of involvement,” he said to her in a kind voice before returning his attention to the others and continuing harshly, “or my own kinner’s participation!” He glared at Jeb. “And you! Dishonoring me when you are to wed my dochder?”

  Jeb stammered over his words. “I—I beg your forgiveness.”

  But Timothy appeared less than impressed with the apology. He turned toward the only two people in the room that he did not recognize. “And who are these two?” He glowered at Henry and Mary. “Let me guess. The Coblentzes? I imagine your onkle, the bishop, will not take kindly to hearing that you introduced Mennonite hymns to my family!”

  For some reason it did not surprise Fanny that Henry did not shirk from the wrath of Timothy’s anger. Whether his nonchalance was because he felt no intimidation or because he simply didn’t care, Fanny couldn’t determine. “It was not I who introduced the hymns,” Henry stated. The shifting of his gaze toward Thomas gave away the true culprit. To Fanny, the betrayal spoke more of Henry’s inferior character than Thomas’s poor decision.

  Timothy took two steps and stood before his oldest son. The look upon his face was intense and spoke of years of disappointment. This was not the first time that Thomas had stepped well outside of the boundaries that Timothy set for his family. Fanny could not help but suspect that it would also not be the last.

  “I would say that I am surprised, but I am not.” That was all that Timothy said in recognition of Thomas’s role. Fanny suspected that he too was unimpressed with the deftness at which Henry so willingly threw another man under the buggy.

  The bedroom door opened and Martha appeared, her robe covering her nightgown. For a moment her face lit up when she saw Timothy and she paused in the doorway. “You’ve returned! Oh, how wunderbarr to have you home! You were gone for far too long, Timothy!”

  Her voice gave away the true emotion she felt: relief. With Timothy back at home, Naomi would no longer be in charge. Fanny wondered if his return and Naomi’s demotion might help Martha snap out of her depression.

  “Ja, I have returned and none too soon!” he snapped. “Are you privy to this”—he gestured toward the gathering—“singing of Mennonite songs?”

  Martha’s smile immediately faded from her face, her excitement at seeing her husband quickly replaced by reality. Despite his return signifying the end of Naomi’s reign, she was now reminded that it would be replaced by his own. She didn’t look at anyone else in the room. “Nee, Timothy. I have no idea what you are talking about,” she said. “I only just came out from the bedroom. My head, you see. And I’ve been so tired . . . ”

  Her answer did not please Timothy, and Fanny suspected that no answer would have. Had Martha known about the hymns, he would have berated her for disobeying his rules in his absence. However, by stating that she was unaware, she was admitting that she had not properly managed the household. Timothy always said that a good parent knows exactly what his or her children are doing.

  “Why, I am in shock. The only one of you with any sense,” he said, “is Fanny!” He pointed at her while glaring at his own children.

  Fanny stared at the floor. His compliment—the first in all the years that she had lived there—made her feel uncomfortable and self-conscious. She did not like the attention from Timothy and worried that the others would feel that she was proud. However, he gave her no more compliments and said no more on the subject.

  Soon enough the quiet that had greeted Timothy’s declaration was quickly replaced by the scrape of chairs and the shuffle of feet as one by one the guests left the house under Timothy’s stern glare. Only the family remained, Thomas smirking defiantly, Miriam and Julia squirming uneasily in their chairs, and Elijah steadfastly averting his eyes from the one person who had warned him about the inevitable wrath of their father: Fanny.

  Chapter 9

  ON THE FIRST Sunday in October the Millers hosted the baptism ceremony for the Bontragers’ g’may. Like many of the church districts, theirs only baptized new members once a year and always before the other two important church meetings: Council and Communion. For most families with a son or daughter who were taking the kneeling vow, a lifelong commitment to shun the world and live according to the Ordnung, it was an emotional, even special, time of year.

  Having children join the church was often viewed as a sign of good parenting. While gossip was frowned upon, a direct violation of Jesus’s command to love thy neighbor, the joy with which families shared the news of their children’s upcoming baptism was the subject of much discussion and carried more than a whisper of judgment against those who had still not committed to join the church.

  When a young adult made that decision to accept their baptism, the parents could breathe a sigh of relief. Too often stories circulated of a youth who started a rumschpringe and decided not to join the church. And always, when those stories circulated, there were whispers among the Amish grapevine that the parents had been far too permissive in raising their children.

  This year, with Elijah finally committing to the church, Timothy appeared hard pressed to balance his pride in his younger son with his disappointment in his older one.

  His daughters and Fanny had accepted their baptism two years earlier, a sign that they had finished their running-around years and were ready to settle down. Sons, however, tended to wait longer to make that commitment.

  The large shop over the Millers’ barn was large enough to accommodate all of the families and invited relatives who came to the baptism service. After all, baptism was a day of celebration as well as reflection. Often times family members came from other districts to share in the glory of the day.

  Just like the regular Sunday services, the congregation gathered for worship, the men on one side of the room and the women on the other. For the first forty minutes, the congregation engaged in singing one of the German hymns from the Ausbund, the vorsinger starting the song by singing the first syllable of each line with the rest of the congregation joining him to complete the different verses. Each verse was long and drawn out, the a cappella song eerily comforting on such a gray day.
But after the song, the bishop stood up and motioned to the baptismal candidates to follow him as he left the shop.

  Fanny sat on the hard bench, listening to the preacher while watching the door at the side of the large room. From her own experience, she knew that the bishop was giving them their final instructions and making certain that each candidate fully understood the commitment that they were about to make. And she also knew that Elijah was most certainly nervous. This was a serious decision—perhaps the most important one in the life of any Amish man or woman.

  It was not a decision to be made lightly, and Fanny knew that Elijah had prayed many nights over the past year regarding his commitment to the church. He never had doubted that he would join the church, and Fanny often wondered why it had taken him so long to do so. She suspected that he had waited in the hopes that Thomas would be baptized alongside him. But, after so many years waiting in vain, Elijah had finally decided that he could wait no longer.

  If Timothy was upset with Elijah about the Englische hymns, it was long forgotten. And the disappointment in Thomas’s ongoing rumschpringe was far from his mind today. Instead, he sat upright on the other side of the room, his face all but glowing with pride that his now-favored son was joining the church.

  Fanny looked away from the men’s side of the gathering, her eyes trailing over the white-capped heads of the women seated in front of her. On the bench in front of her sat Mary. Fanny couldn’t help let her gaze linger on Mary, whose body was turned just enough that Fanny knew she was staring attentively at the preacher. It was what Fanny should be doing, and when she realized that she hadn’t listened to any of his sermon, she bit her lip and forced herself to follow Mary’s example.

  For the past week Fanny hadn’t seen either Mary or Henry. Timothy’s displeasure over the hymn singing was enough of a deterrent for the Coblentzes to stay away from the Bontrager farm. While fortuitous for Fanny on several fronts, neither of her cousins felt the same. With Henry’s absence, Miriam returned her attention to Jeb, and Julia faced the cold reality that Henry did not fancy courting her. Fanny, however, was relieved to not have him visiting in the afternoons. His trifling with the hearts of her cousins had won him no favors with Fanny.