by Delia Parr
Mrs. Sewell’s eyes widened. She rubbed the forearm where she had been stung last year and shivered as if reliving the memory. ‘‘We’ll dine inside. I’ll have my refreshments inside, too. There’s no use inviting disaster.’’
‘‘No sense at all,’’ her husband agreed, despite the fact he had appeared to be too preoccupied studying the businesses and homes they passed on Main Street to be aware of the conversation around him.
When the buggy started up the hill to their destination, Mr. Sewell leaned back, wrapped his hands together, and rested them on his stomach before he locked his gaze with Emma’s. ‘‘I must say I’m not surprised by the growth I’ve noted in town, even in the course of the past year.’’
‘‘The Candlewood Canal continues to inspire a good deal of change.’’ Hopeful he might be willing to share his business expertise with her again, Emma smiled. ‘‘I’m looking forward to hearing your views on the development here, as well as elsewhere, if you’re so inclined.’’
He narrowed his gaze. ‘‘You may not be prepared for all that I have to say.’’
Emma frowned. When they had spoken last year, he had been very careful to guard his own interests, as well as his investors’. Rather than give her direct or specific information, he had provoked her interest with an intriguing concept or idea, and she wondered if he would do the same this year when she might very well need it. ‘‘Are you speaking about Candlewood or elsewhere?’’
‘‘Must you speak about business in front of the girls?’’ his wife whispered.
His cheeks reddened. ‘‘My apologies,’’ he mumbled. ‘‘Perhaps we can talk later, one day this coming week.’’
Although Mrs. Sewell’s rebuke had been clearly directed at her husband, it also served notice to Emma that her interest in business affairs defied conventional wisdom that relegated women to matters of home and hearth but reserved the world of commerce and business for men.
As the operator of Hill House, however temporary that might be, and a woman of substantial means, Emma stood with one foot in each of those spheres. Reminded of her more proper place, she directed the conversation to more traditional, if not practical, topics, considering they were mere minutes away from Hill House. ‘‘I’ve been admiring your bonnet, Mrs. Sewell.’’
The woman’s face glowed with pleasure. ‘‘It quite catches one’s eye, doesn’t it? I found it in a very exclusive boutique that just opened up in Utica. It’s one of a kind. A true gem. The moment I saw this bonnet, I simply had to have it,’’ she gushed.
Emma managed to keep her lips glued in a smile. The blue skies overhead held no promise of a thunderstorm, but she prayed something similar might occur; otherwise, there was no hope of preventing the fireworks either now, if Mother Garrett came out of her kitchen and saw that daffodil bonnet atop Mrs. Sewell’s head, or tomorrow morning, when they all went to services together and the two women discovered that their one-of-a-kind bonnet was not unique at all.
13
NO FIREWORKS, at least for today.
Without encountering Mother Garrett, Emma escorted her guests along the upstairs hallway to the same two front bedrooms they had occupied during their last visit. She opened first one door and then the other before stepping aside. ‘‘As you requested, the Blue Room is ready for you, Mr. and Mrs. Sewell, and the Green Room is for your daughters. Your bags will be brought up presently.’’
While the girls explored their room on their own, Emma joined their parents to make sure they were as pleased by the room’s accommodations as they had been last year.
‘‘It’s exactly as I remember,’’ Abigail crooned. Still wearing her gloves and bonnet, she declined Emma’s offer to store them on the hat rack downstairs where she had put her own. Instead, she helped herself to an almond cookie from the plate resting alongside a vase of white roses on top of a lady’s bureau that hugged one wall.
Emma quickly scanned the room, which was simply drenched in shades of blue. The gleaming, ornately carved headboard on the massive bed was made of solid rosewood and reached nearly from floor to ceiling. The pair of chairs upholstered in a striped fabric that complemented the pale blue coverlet sat in front of the two front windows that provided a view of the town’s business district, the Candlewood Canal, and the homesteads that lay beyond.
A slight breeze rustled the sheer lace curtains and carried the unique scent of summer that would soon give way to autumn. The wide-planked floors had been swept clean. Emma did not have to check the pitcher resting in the washbowl on the marble-top table next to a massive chest-on-chest to know Ditty had filled it with fresh water or that the cloths and towels on a shelf at the bottom of the washstand were fresh.
She smiled. Ditty had done well.
‘‘I’m sure you’d both like to rest a spell before dinner. I’ll check in on the girls and make sure they’re comfortable before I go downstairs,’’ she suggested and confirmed that dinner would be served at one o’clock before leaving and going into the adjoining room.
Madeline and Miriam had planted themselves side-by-side in the chairs facing the front windows of their room, where they each had their own smaller plate with exactly the same number of cookies. Along with their gloves, their bonnets had been tossed to the floor.
Emma glanced about the room. The soft green coverlets on the two single beds matched the background of the floral carpet, as did the pale pink roses in either of the twin crystal vases sitting on the table separating the two beds. Satisfied all was in order here, too, she retrieved the now-empty plates from each of the girls. ‘‘I’ll send up more cookies and see you both at dinner,’’ she promised and slipped from the room.
She met young Will Adams at the top of the staircase, directed him to carry the travel bags to the appropriate rooms, and encountered Ditty while descending the stairs. She noted the three plates of cookies on the tray the young woman was carrying, smiled, and held up the two empty plates she had removed. ‘‘I was just taking these to the kitchen to ask you to take more cookies up to our guests. I see Mother Garrett has already thought of it.’’
‘‘Yes, ma’am, she did.’’
Emma had descended two steps before she stopped, turned around, and called out to Ditty, who looked back over her shoulder.
‘‘Yes, ma’am?’’
‘‘I wanted to tell you what a fine job you did getting the rooms ready for the Sewells.’’
Ditty grinned. ‘‘Yes, ma’am. Thank you.’’
‘‘There’s one more thing,’’ Emma cautioned. ‘‘You’ll no doubt notice Mrs. Sewell is wearing a daffodil bonnet identical to Mother Garrett’s. It’s highly unlikely our guest will be wearing her bonnet to dinner, but I wouldn’t mention anything to Mother Garrett about it. Not just yet.’’
When Ditty’s eyes sparkled, Emma realized the young woman had indeed heard the tale about the bird’s nest on Mother Garrett’s bonnet landing in Reverend Glenn’s soup.
‘‘It’s identical, you say?’’
‘‘Down to the forget-me-nots in the nest, although I suspect Mrs. Sewell’s flowers don’t smell of vegetable soup. You might warn Liesel, as well.’’
Ditty’s grin widened, but she turned and resumed her task without comment.
Emma took a deep breath, smelled the aroma of apple crisp baking in the oven, and descended the rest of the stairs. She waited by the front door for Will to come downstairs, paid him for carrying the bags, and sent him on his way before she ventured into the east parlor to steal a few moments to collect her thoughts. She simply needed to find a way to resolve the dilemma of the daffodil bonnets.
‘‘As if there’s an easy way,’’ she grumbled while inspecting the floorboards to make sure Ditty had not overlooked any dust or dirt.
‘‘The easy way isn’t usually the right way.’’
She clapped her hand to her heart and looked up. ‘‘Reverend Glenn!’’
He sat on the settee just ahead of her, with Butter lying alongside at his feet. He smil
ed. ‘‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.’’ ‘‘I didn’t realize anyone was in here,’’ she admitted as her racing heartbeat gentled into a more normal rhythm. She crossed the room, dropped into the chair facing him, and rubbed her temples with her fingertips.
He leaned down and scratched the dog’s head. ‘‘I’ve been here a spell. I saw you return with your guests, but I didn’t want to interrupt.’’
‘‘In truth, I’m pleased you didn’t. I needed to get Mrs. Sewell up to her room as quickly as possible.’’ When he chuckled, she dropped her hands and leaned against the back of her chair. ‘‘I take it you noticed Mrs. Sewell’s bonnet?’’
He chuckled again and patted the front of his shirt. ‘‘I’m not a man who usually takes notice of fashion, but I daresay I will take notice of that particular bonnet for the rest of my days.’’
She let out a sigh. ‘‘So I can imagine. Unfortunately, there’s no easy way to resolve this problem. I don’t want to upset Mrs. Sewell. She thinks the bonnet is an original, which leaves me no choice but to tell Mother Garrett that there’s more than one daffodil bonnet in Candlewood these days. And I don’t have much time. We’ll all be going to services together in the morning, assuming, of course, Mrs. Sewell doesn’t decide to wear her bonnet to dinner.’’
She sighed again and cast him a sorrowful gaze. ‘‘I don’t suppose you could give me any advice on the matter, could you?’’
He pushed himself to his feet and held on to the arm of the settee to steady himself. ‘‘I have but one thing to suggest.’’
She cocked a brow.
‘‘You might want to make sure Mother Garrett doesn’t serve soup this afternoon.’’
————
Dinner was the largest and most formal meal at Hill House, especially when guests like the Sewells were in residence. Mother Garrett enlisted both Liesel and Ditty’s help in preparing and serving the three-course meal, which meant there had been no opportunity to speak with her mother-in-law before dinner. Widow Leonard was feeling a bit poorly and taking her dinner in her room upstairs, although Emma suspected the source of the elderly woman’s distress might be the prospect of encountering one or both of her sons at services in the morning. Mother Garrett was too busy in the kitchen to join them at the table, which made Emma all the more grateful to have Reverend Glenn present.
With everyone seated around the dining room table, Emma caught the minister’s gaze and smiled. All was well. Mrs. Sewell had not chosen to wear her daffodil bonnet to dinner, and Emma confidently ladled corn chowder into bowls for the guests.
Conversation around the table was spirited, and the young Sewell sisters seemed especially taken by the tales Reverend Glenn shared about his early days as a minister, when he rode circuit before settling down to a permanent ministry in Candlewood. Mother Garrett’s veal roast captured rave approval, but it was the arrival of dessert that had her guests nearly in a swoon.
Ditty set substantial portions of apple crisp still warm from the oven in front of each of their guests, while Liesel followed behind her to pour generous dollops of cream on top of the dessert. To Emma’s surprise, Mother Garrett left Liesel in charge of the kitchen and took a seat at the table.
Beaming, Mother Garrett accepted well-earned accolades for her efforts in preparing the meal and started in on the apple crisp Liesel had brought in for her.
‘‘Are you sure I can’t persuade you to come to work for us in Utica?’’ Mr. Sewell asked between bites.
‘‘You should know better than to ask,’’ his wife protested. ‘‘Mother Garrett wouldn’t leave her daughter-in-law.’’
‘‘No, I wouldn’t, but I might be persuaded to send my receipt for the apple crisp home with you this year.’’
Emma narrowed her gaze. She had heard Mother Garrett’s offer with her own ears, but she still did not trust what she had heard. Mother Garrett was as prone to share her recipes as a hen was to lay purple eggs.
‘‘It’s little enough to do,’’ Mother Garrett insisted. ‘‘I don’t believe we have had any other guests who have enjoyed my efforts more than all of you.’’
‘‘I do believe you have been accorded a distinct honor, Mr. Sewell,’’ Emma said. ‘‘I don’t think I can recall Mother Garrett sharing any of her receipts before.’’
He grinned. ‘‘Then I’m doubly grateful.’’
‘‘Have you plans for the afternoon?’’ Emma inquired.
Mrs. Sewell shook her head. ‘‘Not beyond the patio . . . I do hope you still have your subscriptions to The Ladies’ Repository and Godey’s Lady’s Book for your guests.’’
‘‘The magazines are in the library. I’ll bring them out to you on the patio, if you like.’’
‘‘Don’t bother yourself. When we’re ready, the girls and I will pick out the issues we’d like to read. What time is supper?’’
Emma covered her mouth with her napkin to cover a grin. Although her three sons had practically eaten nonstop from about the age of eleven to adulthood, few of her guests who had barely finished dinner would be concerned about the next meal.
‘‘The days are getting shorter. Will six o’clock suit you?’’ Mother Garrett asked.
Abigail nodded. ‘‘Perfectly well. Reverend Glenn, would you join us on the patio? We’d enjoy hearing more of your stories, and perhaps you could remind us about the time for services tomorrow morning, too.’’
‘‘I will indeed,’’ he replied.
Emma opened the double doors to the patio for her guests and followed Mother Garrett into the kitchen, where Liesel and Ditty were just finishing washing up the dishes from the first two courses. ‘‘I’ll take over here. Take the trays into the dining room and clear the rest of the dishes. Carefully,’’ she cautioned.
Emma grabbed an apron for herself and tied it at her waist, too anxious to speak to Mother Garrett to bother changing into one of her work gowns. ‘‘Speaking of services tomorrow, I was wondering . . . Are you wearing your new bonnet?’’
‘‘Not very likely. I’ve gotten the stains out of the flowers, but with Frances feeling poorly today, I don’t expect she’s gotten to repairing it. Though, to my mind, she’d feel better if she stopped worrying about seeing her sons tomorrow. Why?’’ Mother Garrett asked as she started wiping down the cookstove.
Emma shrugged, though seeing Andrew and James tomorrow at services lay heavy in the back of her mind, too. ‘‘I was just curious. I mean, what if someone else was to have a bonnet exactly like yours? Would it bother you overmuch?’’
Mother Garrett laughed. ‘‘Don’t be a ninny. No one else could possibly have a bonnet like mine.’’
Emma cleared her throat and plunged ahead. ‘‘Actually, Mrs. Sewell does. She was wearing it today.’’
‘‘My bonnet? She was wearing my daffodil bonnet?’’
Emma nodded. ‘‘I’m sorry. I know how much it meant to you to have a bonnet that was so unique.’’
Huffing, her mother-in-law shook the cleaning rag in her hand. ‘‘I have a mind to march myself right back to that millinery shop first thing Monday morning and get some of Mr. Atkins’ coins back—after I have my say.’’
‘‘I have visions of Mrs. Sewell swimming all the way up the Candlewood Canal to Utica, if she has to, just to confront the owner of that boutique to do much the same thing.’’
Mother Garrett shook her head and sighed. ‘‘She’s our guest, after all; there’s no need to upset her. I suppose it wouldn’t do much harm not to tell her about my bonnet.’’
‘‘Except that so many people saw you on Main Street wearing it,’’ Emma argued. ‘‘I’m worried someone might say something to you or to her after services tomorrow.’’
‘‘I’ll think of something. I might even talk to Frances about it before I take to my bed. I have a notion she might have a solution, even if I don’t.’’
Before Emma could reply, the sound of breaking dishes and a pair of yelps sent both of them charging into the dining roo
m.
Surrounded by broken china, Liesel was helping Ditty back to her feet, unharmed but shaken by her mishap.
‘‘If that young woman doesn’t grow into her own feet soon, you’re going to have to replace your entire set of china,’’ Mother Garrett whispered.
‘‘Again,’’ Emma groaned, heading back to the kitchen to get a broom to sweep up the mess.
14
BE NOT AFRAID. OUR LORD, the Creator of all the universe, will be your strength. Be not afraid. God, our all-knowing Father, will not desert you. Be not afraid. Entrust Him with your worst fears. Give Him your pain and suffering. And trust Him with the deepest of your heartaches. Be . . . not . . . afraid.’’
The echo of Reverend Austin’s sermon resounded in Emma’s mind as the services concluded with a hymn, and she tucked his words close to her heart to ease the fear that she might be forced to leave Hill House. When she turned to file from the pew in the front of the church, she caught a glimpse of Zachary Breckenwith. For just one quick moment, the interest simmering in the depths of his eyes when he glanced at her was undeniable. With her heart pounding, she looked away, only to find Mr. Langhorne staring hard at her. Unnerved, she stepped back in the aisle to allow first Reverend Glenn, then Mr. Sewell to proceed ahead of her, with her guest taking care that the retired minister did not stumble and fall. Mrs. Sewell, Madeline, and Miriam followed next, then Mother Garrett, and finally Widow Leonard.
As Emma’s heartbeat returned to normal, she dismissed that most curious look in Zachary Breckenwith’s eyes, certain she must have misunderstood his professional concern for her as interest in her on a more personal level. He was her lawyer, nothing more. Mr. Langhorne’s hard glance, however, only reinforced her own fears that she was on the verge of losing Hill House and a new, more irrational fear that Mr. Langhorne might have discovered her current dilemma and that he would use that knowledge to his own advantage.