Abigail's tale of Miss Langley's shocking secret made her wonder. She longed to ask Miss Langley whose tiny footprints had been immortalized on the black velveteen, but she feared Miss Langley would deny their existence and forbid Eleanor to see the quilt ever again.
Fortunately, Miss Langley apparently did not take Mother's prohibition against quilting lessons to mean that Eleanor was not allowed to watch her quilt, nor did she refuse to answer Eleanor's questions. But that was in their companionable solitude in the summer house. With Abigail present, Eleanor did not dare show too much interest in her nanny's quilts. Instead, as Abigail read to them from Dickens or one of the Miss Brontës, Eleanor worked on a needlepoint sampler and counted the hours until school began.
O n the last Wednesday of the summer recess, Mother and Abigail attended a luncheon at Mrs. Corville's. As soon as Father left for work, Mother announced that Eleanor must play in the nursery by herself while Miss Langley helped Abigail prepare. Stung that she should be sent away like a child, Eleanor hovered in the background while Miss Langley and Harriet bathed Abigail, brushed her golden curls until they shone, and dressed her in a light blue dress with white lace at the collar and matching gloves.
As Mother supervised and fussed, Eleanor learned why this particular occasion was so important: the Corvilles had a fifteen-year-old son. Mr. Corville owned a store a few blocks from Father's, and while it was smaller than his, it was so prosperous that Mr. Corville had opened branches in Boston and New Rochelle. Father had once said that he could never buy out Mr. Corville, but he would not object to becoming the man's partner. Unfortunately, there were rumors Mr. Drury had the same idea, and he also had a daughter Abigail's age, though not as pretty.
“If Abigail marries Mr. Corville's son, Mr. Corville couldn't become Mr. Drury's partner instead of Father's,” said Eleanor to Miss Langley after Mother and Abigail hurried out the door.
“He could, but he wouldn't.”
Eleanor felt a surge of sympathy for her sister. Abigail did not want to leave home, but she would obey to make Father happy. “I hope she likes Edwin Corville,” said Eleanor, dubious. That might not influence the decision, but it would make the inevitable easier to bear.
Miss Langley sighed. “So do I, for her sake.”
They went inside to the nursery, where Miss Langley said, “Since our presence is not required at their silly luncheon, how would you like to spend the rest of the morning?”
Eleanor almost asked for a trip into the city, but something held back the words. Something in Miss Langley's expression told her that the offer was meant to compensate for more than the missed luncheon. She looked Miss Langley straight in the eye, steeled herself, and said, “I want to ride Wildrose.”
Miss Langley's smile faded.
“Or Princess,” said Eleanor quickly. “Abigail will never know. You could ride Wildrose and we could ride together.”
“Eleanor—”
“Don't say no. I know I'm not allowed, but I'm not allowed to do anything. Please, Miss Langley. I'll be careful. Don't say it's too dangerous, because if it's not too dangerous for Abigail—”
“Eleanor.” Miss Langley's voice was quiet but firm. “You cannot ride Wildrose or any of the family's horses. We could not go riding without at least a half-dozen people witnessing it. We cannot count on them to keep silent.”
Eleanor knew Miss Langley was right. She took a deep breath, nodded, and tried to think of something else.
“I know,” said Miss Langley. “You've admired my Crazy Quilt for years. I'll teach you to make your own.”
“I don't want to make a Crazy Quilt,” said Eleanor. Not today, not when the forbidden lessons had been offered only because what she truly wanted was impossible. “Abigail was younger than I am when she rode for the first time. I'm tired of being treated like I'm sick when
Fortunately, Miss Langley apparently did not take Mother's prohibition against quilting lessons to mean that Eleanor was not allowed to watch her quilt, nor did she refuse to answer Eleanor's questions. But that was in their companionable solitude in the summer house. With Abigail present, Eleanor did not dare show too much interest in her nanny's quilts. Instead, as Abigail read to them from Dickens or one of the Miss Brontës, Eleanor worked on a needlepoint sampler and counted the hours until school began.
O n the last Wednesday of the summer recess, Mother and Abigail attended a luncheon at Mrs. Corville's. As soon as Father left for work, Mother announced that Eleanor must play in the nursery by herself while Miss Langley helped Abigail prepare. Stung that she should be sent away like a child, Eleanor hovered in the background while Miss Langley and Harriet bathed Abigail, brushed her golden curls until they shone, and dressed her in a light blue dress with white lace at the collar and matching gloves.
As Mother supervised and fussed, Eleanor learned why this particular occasion was so important: the Corvilles had a fifteen-year-old son. Mr. Corville owned a store a few blocks from Father's, and while it was smaller than his, it was so prosperous that Mr. Corville had opened branches in Boston and New Rochelle. Father had once said that he could never buy out Mr. Corville, but he would not object to becoming the man's partner. Unfortunately, there were rumors Mr. Drury had the same idea, and he also had a daughter Abigail's age, though not as pretty.
“If Abigail marries Mr. Corville's son, Mr. Corville couldn't become Mr. Drury's partner instead of Father's,” said Eleanor to Miss Langley after Mother and Abigail hurried out the door.
“He could, but he wouldn't.”
Eleanor felt a surge of sympathy for her sister. Abigail did not want to leave home, but she would obey to make Father happy. “I hope she likes Edwin Corville,” said Eleanor, dubious. That might not influence the decision, but it would make the inevitable easier to bear.
Miss Langley sighed. “So do I, for her sake.”
They went inside to the nursery, where Miss Langley said, “Since our presence is not required at their silly luncheon, how would you like to spend the rest of the morning?”
Eleanor almost asked for a trip into the city, but something held back the words. Something in Miss Langley's expression told her that the offer was meant to compensate for more than the missed luncheon. She looked Miss Langley straight in the eye, steeled herself, and said, “I want to ride Wildrose.”
Miss Langley's smile faded.
“Or Princess,” said Eleanor quickly. “Abigail will never know. You could ride Wildrose and we could ride together.”
“Eleanor—”
“Don't say no. I know I'm not allowed, but I'm not allowed to do anything. Please, Miss Langley. I'll be careful. Don't say it's too dangerous, because if it's not too dangerous for Abigail—”
“Eleanor.” Miss Langley's voice was quiet but firm. “You cannot ride Wildrose or any of the family's horses. We could not go riding without at least a half-dozen people witnessing it. We cannot count on them to keep silent.”
Eleanor knew Miss Langley was right. She took a deep breath, nodded, and tried to think of something else.
“I know,” said Miss Langley. “You've admired my Crazy Quilt for years. I'll teach you to make your own.”
“I don't want to make a Crazy Quilt,” said Eleanor. Not today, not when the forbidden lessons had been offered only because what she truly wanted was impossible. “Abigail was younger than I am when she rode for the first time. I'm tired of being treated like I'm sick when
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