my resolve to see my brother exonerated for a crime I knew, in my bones and in my heart, he could not have committed.
Within the hour I was dressed in my sturdy blue carriage dress—the one of Aunt Sadie’s that Nanny had freshened with black velvet braid and new jet buttons. Outside, Katie helped me hitch Barney up to the buggy, both of which also had belonged to Aunt Sadie.
The rain had abated to a light mist that silvered the promontory and lent a shine to our faces. Barney, a sweet roan gelding who was willing to go out in any weather as long as he didn’t have to proceed at too hasty a pace, gave my shoulder an affectionate nibble as I tightened his harness and secured it to the traces. Katie stood back as I did so, and another of last night’s revelations bubbled up through the muddle of my thoughts.
I pondered how best to broach the delicate subject, then decided there was no good way except to dive right in. “Katie,” I said, “I’ve been wondering about . . . well . . . about when you first came to stay with me last spring.”
A wave of crimson flooded her face, her freckles standing out golden in comparison. “I’m ever so grateful to you, Miss Emma, and I try my hardest to pull my weight, truly I do. I suppose I shouldn’t have presumed. It’s just that I’d heard tell of your aunt always lending a hand to any girl in need and I . . . I hadn’t anywhere else to go. . . .”
I didn’t think it was possible for such a ruddy blush to deepen, but Katie’s did. She clutched her apron and began twisting the hem around her index finger.
“I know, Katie. It’s quite all right. Aunt Sadie provided a much-needed service here in Newport, and I’m only too happy to continue in her footsteps.” My great aunt Sadie, who’d lived a spinster’s life by choice and quite proudly, had rescued countless disgraced and dismissed maids over the years, opening her home, her finances, and her arms to them when no one else would. I’d inherited her house; it was only right I inherited her good works as well.
I secured the last buckle on Barney’s harness. Scratching behind his ears, I turned to face Katie. “What I’m wondering is whether I understood the facts of what brought you here.”
“I was in the family way, miss,” she murmured so low I had to strain to hear her over the shush of the breeze and the hiss of the ocean.
“Yes, Katie, of course. But . . . the man . . .” Before I could continue she turned away with a cry.
“Oh, please, miss! Don’t make me talk about it.” She drew her apron up over her face.
“But I need to know,” I persisted. “Was it Mr. Neily? Or was it Reg—”
She let out a wail. “Don’t make me think about . . . about my poor babe . . . and . . .” Her words dissolved into sobs.
“All right, Katie. There, there, now.” I went to her and patted her back, then slipped an arm around her shoulders. “We won’t discuss it just now. Someday, though, when you’re ready.”
With a trembling breath, she lowered the apron, wiping her eyes with it before letting the starched linen fall back in place against her skirts. “Thank you, miss. And now I should see to . . . to the laundry.”
“In this weather? Where would you hang it to dry?”
“The dusting, then.” The wind blew and she shivered.
I realized she was hoping to escape accompanying me into town, perhaps fearing that in the closeness of the carriage seat I’d return to the subject she so wished to avoid. I set her at ease. “You go on inside and have a cup of tea first. And more of Nanny’s porridge.”
As I watched her trudge back up through the kitchen garden, I pondered cousin Reggie’s newfound attempts to play the grownup. Whisky was part of that game. Did it also include forcing himself on helpless maids in his father’s employ? The notion sickened me.
And what did it say about the society we lived in that poor girls like Katie were dismissed without references while the men who
Within the hour I was dressed in my sturdy blue carriage dress—the one of Aunt Sadie’s that Nanny had freshened with black velvet braid and new jet buttons. Outside, Katie helped me hitch Barney up to the buggy, both of which also had belonged to Aunt Sadie.
The rain had abated to a light mist that silvered the promontory and lent a shine to our faces. Barney, a sweet roan gelding who was willing to go out in any weather as long as he didn’t have to proceed at too hasty a pace, gave my shoulder an affectionate nibble as I tightened his harness and secured it to the traces. Katie stood back as I did so, and another of last night’s revelations bubbled up through the muddle of my thoughts.
I pondered how best to broach the delicate subject, then decided there was no good way except to dive right in. “Katie,” I said, “I’ve been wondering about . . . well . . . about when you first came to stay with me last spring.”
A wave of crimson flooded her face, her freckles standing out golden in comparison. “I’m ever so grateful to you, Miss Emma, and I try my hardest to pull my weight, truly I do. I suppose I shouldn’t have presumed. It’s just that I’d heard tell of your aunt always lending a hand to any girl in need and I . . . I hadn’t anywhere else to go. . . .”
I didn’t think it was possible for such a ruddy blush to deepen, but Katie’s did. She clutched her apron and began twisting the hem around her index finger.
“I know, Katie. It’s quite all right. Aunt Sadie provided a much-needed service here in Newport, and I’m only too happy to continue in her footsteps.” My great aunt Sadie, who’d lived a spinster’s life by choice and quite proudly, had rescued countless disgraced and dismissed maids over the years, opening her home, her finances, and her arms to them when no one else would. I’d inherited her house; it was only right I inherited her good works as well.
I secured the last buckle on Barney’s harness. Scratching behind his ears, I turned to face Katie. “What I’m wondering is whether I understood the facts of what brought you here.”
“I was in the family way, miss,” she murmured so low I had to strain to hear her over the shush of the breeze and the hiss of the ocean.
“Yes, Katie, of course. But . . . the man . . .” Before I could continue she turned away with a cry.
“Oh, please, miss! Don’t make me talk about it.” She drew her apron up over her face.
“But I need to know,” I persisted. “Was it Mr. Neily? Or was it Reg—”
She let out a wail. “Don’t make me think about . . . about my poor babe . . . and . . .” Her words dissolved into sobs.
“All right, Katie. There, there, now.” I went to her and patted her back, then slipped an arm around her shoulders. “We won’t discuss it just now. Someday, though, when you’re ready.”
With a trembling breath, she lowered the apron, wiping her eyes with it before letting the starched linen fall back in place against her skirts. “Thank you, miss. And now I should see to . . . to the laundry.”
“In this weather? Where would you hang it to dry?”
“The dusting, then.” The wind blew and she shivered.
I realized she was hoping to escape accompanying me into town, perhaps fearing that in the closeness of the carriage seat I’d return to the subject she so wished to avoid. I set her at ease. “You go on inside and have a cup of tea first. And more of Nanny’s porridge.”
As I watched her trudge back up through the kitchen garden, I pondered cousin Reggie’s newfound attempts to play the grownup. Whisky was part of that game. Did it also include forcing himself on helpless maids in his father’s employ? The notion sickened me.
And what did it say about the society we lived in that poor girls like Katie were dismissed without references while the men who
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