by Kimberly Nee
She nodded. “With everyone home for the first time in ages, Momma has been going mad to make it a perfect evening. It’ll be noisy, but I think she’s looking forward to that.”
“I imagine so. That’s what happens when you have large families.”
Emma peered about the church. “And where is Mrs. Chandler?”
“She’s home with a sick daughter and an even sicker granddaughter. Emily and Ruth haven’t left their beds in three days.” Lydia clicked her tongue against her teeth. “It’s not safe going anywhere near Mercer Street right now. My advice? Steer clear for a week or two. Next thing you know, the plague will be there. I think it’s going to get uglier before it gets prettier.”
Momma cleared her throat and gestured toward the altar. “Lower your voice, Emma. Father’s about to begin.”
“I wouldn’t worry, Rebecca. It’s almost impossible to be heard over him anyway. He certainly knows how to make his voice carry. Emma would have to shout for it to even be a concern.” Lydia grinned, adding, “And once he begins, the church could burn down around him and he still wouldn’t notice.”
“Be that as it may, I’d rather not be the ones who disprove that theory.” Momma’s features softened, to Emma’s relief. Maybe she only imagined what she saw in the coach. Now, Momma even smiled. “Now, hush, all of you.”
Lydia winked. “Let’s all offer a prayer that he is short-winded today.”
“Amen.” Momma’s voice was so soft, Emma thought she was the only one able to hear her. She fought back a smile, forcing her attention to the priest.
Amen, indeed. Emma tried to keep her mind from wandering, but it all for naught. Her gaze remained straight ahead, but her thoughts were anywhere but church.
No, that wasn’t true. They were in church, but not for a Christmas service.
She smiled as her gaze slid to the back of Julian’s head. It would be a lovely church for a wedding. It was far bigger than the small chapel on Stonebridge’s grounds and would hold more people. A spring wedding, perhaps. Late spring, when the lilacs bloomed.
She hugged the delicious dream. Nothing could be more perfect than marrying Julian, with everyone there to celebrate it, and the scent of lilacs on the air.
And weddings brought her back to George and Rose. She turned to gaze over at the Hadley family along the western wall, near the Adamses. Rose looked wan and tired in her dark cloak. Her parents looked furious, both shooting evil, six-feet-under stares at George. The Penroses were also over there, and Darcy looked at the priest, nodding every so often as if he held her at rapt attention.
Still, Emma hadn’t missed the look on George’s face when Darcy had slid into the pew, and she frowned. Her gaze went back to Rose, and her frown became a glare.
Rose’s white face had gone paler still, and her eyes were red and glassy. She bent forward to bury her face in her hands.
It was a lovely service, even if the priest did spend much more time than necessary on the homily, and when they were finally filing out into the cold, Emma brought a gloved hand to her lips to smother her yawn. The chilly air did much to revive her, and her drowsiness was completely gone by the time they reached Stonebridge.
Her mother’s festive mood remained as they all slipped out of their cloaks to hand to Amanda. “You girls had best go and ready yourselves. Everyone will be here soon.”
“Yes, Momma.” Emma grinned as she and Mary replied in unison. That grin remained in place as they went upstairs.
“Are you still going to help me with my hair?” Mary asked as they reached her room. “You said you’d weave a ribbon through it.”
She’d forgotten about her promise to Mary, smiled. “And I will. Do you have the ribbon?”
Mary nodded. “It’s on my dressing table.” She took two steps, but then paused, her brows pulling together as she said, “Have you noticed Momma was acting a little odd earlier? It seemed something was bothering her.”
So Emma hadn’t imagined the frown. “She did earlier, but now she seems fine. Maybe she was feeling anxious about the party.”
“If so, she isn’t the only one. Garrett and Drew headed right to Papa’s office, and it doesn’t take much to figure out why.”
Emma nodded. “Brandy.” She pushed open the Mary’s door. “Momma will go into a fury if they end up foxed before the first guest arrives.”
Mary closed the door by. “I wish I could have a sip of something. I always get so nervous before a social event. Especially tonight.”
The moss green ribbon lay atop Mary’s dressing table, tangled with two other ribbons of different colors. Emma ran it through her fingers. It was cool and silky and hopefully would remain in place once she wove it through. “Now, why are you so nervous about tonight?”
Mary gave her a long look before turning away from Emma. She rubbed the side of her neck with a thoughtful hand as if she was debating whether or not she could trust her sister with some deep, dark secret.
Emma bit back an impatient sigh. “Out with it already, Mary. Why is tonight so special?”
“Because Ben Jacobs will be here, that’s why.”
Emma smiled as she gathered up her comb and went to work. “Does Papa know you’re blushing over Ben Jacobs? I don’t think he’ll be unhappy about it. Just the opposite, I’d think. Especially if he needed to borrow any money from the bank.”
Mary scowled at her over one shoulder. “Stop it, Em. That’s why I didn’t say anything before now.” She faced forward again. “You have to keep this within these four walls. Don’t tell anyone. Not a soul.”
“Within these four—Mary, are you mad? Who am I going to tell, and what is it I’m going to tell them? Now, hold still.” Emma resumed weaving the ribbon through her sister’s thick hair. “And out with it. What did Ben do that has you all a tangle?”
“He kissed me.”
“He did? When did this happen?” Emma tried to keep her surprise to herself. Ben Jacobs wasn’t the sort of young man she imagined her sister would take an interest in. He was shy and studious, more interested in learning about running his father’s bank than kissing any young lady. But then, stranger things did happen.
“Last week. Before the first snowstorm. I was at Scotch’s with Joan, and we stopped at Croft’s for a hot chocolate. He was there with Stuart Anderson and…well…”
To Emma’s utter surprise, a scarlet flush swept up the back of her sister’s neck. Mary was actually blushing. Until that moment, Emma didn’t know her sister could blush. This was serious.
“And he kissed you? In the café?”
“No, not in the café.” Impatience curled through her words as she brought a thumb to her lips to nibble. “Behind it.”
Her sister sounded so wistful, her voice so full of dreaminess and longing, that Emma didn’t want to ruin the obviously treasured memory. And while Mary might be given to theatrics from time to time, she wasn’t normally so impulsive that she threw all care to the winds.
“It was nice, wasn’t it?”
“Nice? Emma, it was wonderful.”
Emma smiled as she finished with the ribbon and stepped back. “I know that feeling.”
“Isn’t it amazing?” Mary’s eyes took on a faraway glaze as she slowly shook her head. “I don’t even know how to describe it. Words just can’t do it justice.”
As she spoke, Mary came back to her bed, wrapping one hand about a bedpost to slowly swing around it and dropped onto her bed.
Emma smiled. She knew that feeling all too well. It was probably fairly close to what she felt when she stood in Julian’s room, right before their kiss. It was probably exactly the same as how she felt when she simply thought about Julian. Words couldn’t possibly do it justice.
“Well, your secret’s safe with me,” Emma promised her.
“Just like your kiss with Julian is safe with me.”
The impish tone in Mary’s voice gave Emma pause. She didn’t sound as if she was guessing about this kiss, but that she knew for a fact t
he kiss happened. She tried to laugh it off. “What’re you talking about?”
“Please, Em, I’m not an idiot.” Mary leveled her with a stare that made her look years older. For a moment, she looked like their mother. “You were on your way down to breakfast, and then you were gone for almost forty-five minutes.” Her smile was the same conspiratorial one they had shared since they were children.
“I know, but—” Emma hedged.
Mary’s smile widened. “I knew it! You did share a kiss with him that morning. Didn’t you?”
Now it was Emma’s turn to savor the delicious flavor of a treasured memory. She hugged it close. Flopping down beside her sister, she stared up at the purple canopy. Purple was Mary’s favorite color, and it dominated the room, from the cushions on the window bench to the hints of purple woven through the green and gold carpet beneath the bed. Even the cords holding the gauzy white draperies on the north-facing windows were purple.
“Yes,” she murmured, turning her head to smile at her sister. “We kissed.”
Mary turned to her, her blue eyes sparkling. “And it made the world stop, didn’t it?”
“That describes it perfectly. I only wish the world stayed stopped for a little longer.”
“Amen to that. But hopefully it will happen again. Tonight. He’s already promised me a dance.”
“Wonderful. I hope it all works out for you, Mare. If he makes you happy, he must be an all right suitor. Do you think Papa would approve? Of either one of them?”
Mary sat up. “Honestly, I don’t know. You know what they say about his family. The men all go mad. They go violently mad. His grandfather did it. His father did it. And probably his great-grandfathers also went mad, all the way back to the first McCallister man. And if it’s true, Papa wouldn’t be happy at all.”
Emma had heard the stories, but always considered herself too pragmatic to believe something as silly as cursed blood. “I don’t believe in curses,” she replied flatly. “It’s a load of nonsense.”
She didn’t trouble to keep the scolding notes from her tone, and if they bothered Mary, she gave no indication of it.
Instead, she traced a finger along the seam in the deep plum quilt. “Em, the men are dead. Their wives are dead. And we know his father killed his mother. Then he killed himself. If that isn’t madness, what is?”
“You choose to believe stories that have never been verified? That isn’t entirely fair, is it?”
The hint of color on Mary’s pointed cheekbones spoke volumes, as did her averted gaze. Several long minutes passed before she murmured, “Do you think you and Mr. McCallister will kiss again?”
Emma giggled. “I certainly hope so.” She tapped her sister’s arm. “What about you and Ben?”
Now it was Mary’s turn to giggle. “I wouldn’t mind kissing him again. I’ll have to find some way to lure him beneath the mistletoe.”
“Momma will pop if you do that!” Even as she spoke, Emma wondered if she’d be able to lure Julian anywhere near the mistletoe in the parlor doorway. “You know she hangs it for decoration only. And to give Papa an excuse to kiss her.”
A wistful sigh replaced Mary’s giggle. “I do hope he’ll ask to court me. But he hasn’t said anything about it. And I hate that, I hate not knowing what will happen next. It’s as if I’ll burst right out of my skin the next time I see him and yet, what if it was only a kiss for him? What if it was only a kiss and nothing more?”
“Do you think it might be?”
“I’m hardly an expert on such matters, Em. I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“I hate that. Don’t you? The not knowing. At least with a book, I can flip ahead and see how everything turns out.”
“I do, but at the same time, I don’t. There’s something—I don’t know—exhilarating about that up and down feeling. It’s awful, but it’s wonderful at the same time.”
Mary closed her eyes but said nothing, and Emma didn’t speak either. A peaceful silence reigned for several long minutes, and then Mary opened her eyes. “I suppose we should be readying ourselves. The guests will be arriving soon.”
Emma rose. “You’re probably right.”
Mary sat at her dressing table, and Emma went to work combing her sister’s thick, chestnut hair, twisting it into a complicated twist and weaving the green ribbon through the locks.
When she was finished, Mary gave her a warm hug and thanked her, then Emma returned to her bedroom to get herself ready. She wanted to look her best this evening. There was always the possibility that tonight, she and Julian would do more than kiss.
Chapter Ten
AT HALF PAST SEVEN, the guests began to arrive. Emma stood at the top of the main staircase and took a deep breath.
As she descended the main staircase, the low rumble of several male voices rose up to greet her. She paused, waiting for the voices to fade. None were familiar, and she didn’t want to walk into the ballroom on her own. Mary, Drew, and Garrett were supposed to join her, but so far, she was the only one there.
At the foot of the staircase, she found Drew grinning up at her as he leaned one elbow on the banister. “I thought I heard someone coming down.” His grin grew impish. “Hoping to make a grand entrance?”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Hardly. I thought Momma and Papa would be here, greeting everyone. I just don’t want to walk in there alone. I hate when everyone stares at me.”
“They’re doing that in the ballroom instead.” To her surprise, his grin faded and his brows pulled together. “And I’d be honored to escort you, Em. But before we go in, I wanted to ask you something.”
She froze on the bottommost step as a softened sense of panic rippled through her. Had Drew been passing by Mary’s bedroom and overheard them? And if he had, which part had he overheard?
Garrett was the serious one, while Drew tended to be more light-hearted. At least, he normally was. Right now, he looked every bit as serious as Garrett. Still, she forced herself to take the last step and slipped her arm through his. “What about?”
“I heard a rumor while I was in town with Papa yesterday.” Her mouth went dry as he continued, “And it’s a bit troubling, so I hope you can clear it up for me.”
A rumor? In town? How the devil could anyone know about her steamy kiss with Julian? No. It simply wasn’t possible for gossip to travel that fast. She tried to remember if any of the servants had had the day off. No, none had. Everyone in service at Stonebridge was somewhere in the house, readying for the party. She was certain of it.
Willing her voice to remain steady, she asked, “A rumor? What about?”
He stopped and faced her, flicking something from the sleeve of his black frock coat. “Mary.”
Relief swept through her with such force that she almost took a step back, but thankfully caught herself in time.
Drew stopped brushing his sleeve, and now his expression suggested definite discomfort. “About her and Ben Jacobs behind Croft’s Café?”
Mindful of her promise to Mary to keep her secret, she shook her head. “What about her and Ben Jacobs behind Croft’s?”
“It was fairly tame—a kiss—but I don’t like it just the same.” Drew folded his arms, his left brow raised just enough to suggest he didn’t believe her. “She’s said nothing to you? You’ve heard no gossip from Miss Adams?”
She gave him an exasperated stare. “Rose and I do not gossip. We discuss things that are important.” She held his stare, but as he refused to relent, she sighed. “Very well. On occasion we might discuss things that are going on. From time to time, that is. But no, I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about. So maybe you should tell me what you’ve heard, and I’ll see what I know about it.”
“Em, talking to you is like trying to speak English to a person who only speaks Greek, and I’m not faring well at either.” Drew grumbled, his jaw tightening a little more. “All I want to know is if you’ve heard anything. Anything at all.”
His lips pursed, and at first she thought he was angry with her, but then he grinned. “You do have your hands full, don’t you? Fair enough.” He cast a quick glance up the staircase. “Where is Mary?”
“I suppose she’s still dressing. Are you going to confront her?” Her belly gave a little ripple of apprehension. She didn’t want Mary thinking she’d spilled her secret to Drew.
“No. Not tonight. But I think that might be what Momma was so upset about earlier.” Her relief must have shown on her face, for he added, “Unless there’s another reason.”
“No. I’ve been wondering about her mood all day myself. Although I do like the festive one she’s in now. I think she’s in a pet; she’ll be fine. She was back to her normal jovial self by the time we were in church.” She tucked her arm through his. “And if there’s some rumor—wait, how terrible is it?”
As they strolled toward the ballroom, Drew lowered his voice. “Nothing too scandalous. A stolen kiss behind the café. At least, that’s the version I heard. That’s why I wanted to know if you’d heard anything. Momma wouldn’t be too upset over an innocent kiss. I think there must have been a witness, but I don’t know who. All I’ve heard so far is that so-and-so heard it from so-and-so. But I don’t know who the first so-and-so is.”
“That’s too many so-and-sos, Drew. Sounds to me as if someone’s imagination has run wild.”
“Maybe it has. I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her about it yet.” He glanced down at her. “But if this is what’s got her so out of sorts, it must be more than a kiss. And I should hate to think what that something was, or who saw it.”
“Have you asked Garrett? Perhaps he’s heard something.”
“Already spoke to him. He heard the same story.”
“So it sounds as if that’s the only story going around. Which wouldn’t put Momma in so bleak a mood. Would it?”
“I doubt it. That’s why I want to know if there are any other versions floating about. They might lead me to the first so-and-so as well.”