such a charmer I don’t know what to believe about him. Maybe he just said that because he knew all the right words. Just words . . . know what I mean?”
Talie stared at her sister. There was only one thing to do, and the answer was simple. “This is what you do, Danes,” she said, using the same line—and the same childish nickname—she’d used since she was in fourth grade and telling Dana how to handle her first day of kindergarten. “You let Melody or her husband tell this cousin of theirs you’ll be going to the singles group at my church. If he’s interested in you, he’ll jump on the opportunity to go too. You get to know him under the structure of the church itself, and see for yourself what kind of faith—and lifestyle—he really has. You know you have to find this out for yourself, or you’ll never be able to let it go. Right?”
A light glimmered in Dana’s eyes for the first time this morning, banishing whatever fatigue she’d brought with her to the table.
Satisfied, Talie stood to take up the remaining dirty dishes. It was a mystery to her why her sister wasn’t married yet, except that she was probably too picky and couldn’t find anyone as perfect as Luke. But maybe that was about to change. Marriage and children might be just around the bend for Danes.
Talie’s smile slipped away as memories of Cosima’s journal crept to the forefront of her mind. The suitor who came to claim Cosima had taken her away from home, away from everything and everyone familiar. An unwilling courtship at best, for reasons that were all too clear from what Cosima described.
Thank goodness Dana didn’t have such problems! The way Dana worried, the last thing she needed was to read the trials about matrimony Cosima faced. That would only cement the fear that finding someone to marry was more trouble than it was worth.
Talie supposed she ought to read a bit more of the journal before deciding whether or not to pitch the pages forever.
6
Against my own better judgment, I will set out with Sir Reginald for England tomorrow. I must trust my parents’ choice and God’s plans for me. I pray that the way will become clear; at present, I must confess it is all rather muddled.
Sir Reginald has assured us that my four trunks can be strapped to the top and back of the Hale carriage all the way to London. The carriage itself is to be taken on the ship with us, across the Irish Sea. The largest of my cases contains my best gowns; another is packed with reticules, hats, slippers, shoes, and other accessories. (I can scarcely believe I will need all this finery, yet Mama insists that I must be prepared for any social gathering!) Yet another trunk holds my finest undergarments, nightclothes, shawls, capes, and informal gowns. Mama also insists that Millicent accompany me, and thus the fourth trunk carries her belongings. While I cannot imagine that I will need a lady’s maid, as Millicent is to be called, it will be nice to have a familiar face nearby.
I will also take my small tapestry bag for those items that I cannot let from my sight. One, of course, is this journal. I have also placed in my bag the relic Grandma Josephine bequeathed to me: the iron-edged cross. I cannot leave that behind.
Only one item in my bag has more than sentimental value, and I would far rather leave it here, safe at home. But Mama was emphatic about my taking her emerald necklace—a single emerald set in gold, hanging from a braided chain. It is worth far more than any other bauble I own or ever expect to own. I can only assume that Mama wants her daughter to show that someone of Irish lineage—lo, even a descendant of Catholics—is not so backward and poor as those in England must imagine.
I have agreed to take the emerald—but I have not promised to wear it. . . .
The interior of the Hale carriage was upholstered in warm gold velvet, with matching curtains pulled aside from each window. Lap blankets and a carved wooden stool were
Talie stared at her sister. There was only one thing to do, and the answer was simple. “This is what you do, Danes,” she said, using the same line—and the same childish nickname—she’d used since she was in fourth grade and telling Dana how to handle her first day of kindergarten. “You let Melody or her husband tell this cousin of theirs you’ll be going to the singles group at my church. If he’s interested in you, he’ll jump on the opportunity to go too. You get to know him under the structure of the church itself, and see for yourself what kind of faith—and lifestyle—he really has. You know you have to find this out for yourself, or you’ll never be able to let it go. Right?”
A light glimmered in Dana’s eyes for the first time this morning, banishing whatever fatigue she’d brought with her to the table.
Satisfied, Talie stood to take up the remaining dirty dishes. It was a mystery to her why her sister wasn’t married yet, except that she was probably too picky and couldn’t find anyone as perfect as Luke. But maybe that was about to change. Marriage and children might be just around the bend for Danes.
Talie’s smile slipped away as memories of Cosima’s journal crept to the forefront of her mind. The suitor who came to claim Cosima had taken her away from home, away from everything and everyone familiar. An unwilling courtship at best, for reasons that were all too clear from what Cosima described.
Thank goodness Dana didn’t have such problems! The way Dana worried, the last thing she needed was to read the trials about matrimony Cosima faced. That would only cement the fear that finding someone to marry was more trouble than it was worth.
Talie supposed she ought to read a bit more of the journal before deciding whether or not to pitch the pages forever.
6
Against my own better judgment, I will set out with Sir Reginald for England tomorrow. I must trust my parents’ choice and God’s plans for me. I pray that the way will become clear; at present, I must confess it is all rather muddled.
Sir Reginald has assured us that my four trunks can be strapped to the top and back of the Hale carriage all the way to London. The carriage itself is to be taken on the ship with us, across the Irish Sea. The largest of my cases contains my best gowns; another is packed with reticules, hats, slippers, shoes, and other accessories. (I can scarcely believe I will need all this finery, yet Mama insists that I must be prepared for any social gathering!) Yet another trunk holds my finest undergarments, nightclothes, shawls, capes, and informal gowns. Mama also insists that Millicent accompany me, and thus the fourth trunk carries her belongings. While I cannot imagine that I will need a lady’s maid, as Millicent is to be called, it will be nice to have a familiar face nearby.
I will also take my small tapestry bag for those items that I cannot let from my sight. One, of course, is this journal. I have also placed in my bag the relic Grandma Josephine bequeathed to me: the iron-edged cross. I cannot leave that behind.
Only one item in my bag has more than sentimental value, and I would far rather leave it here, safe at home. But Mama was emphatic about my taking her emerald necklace—a single emerald set in gold, hanging from a braided chain. It is worth far more than any other bauble I own or ever expect to own. I can only assume that Mama wants her daughter to show that someone of Irish lineage—lo, even a descendant of Catholics—is not so backward and poor as those in England must imagine.
I have agreed to take the emerald—but I have not promised to wear it. . . .
The interior of the Hale carriage was upholstered in warm gold velvet, with matching curtains pulled aside from each window. Lap blankets and a carved wooden stool were
Similar Books
