Page 20 of Boy of Chaotic Making

At the top of the main set of stairs, Lady Helen paused. “You know what, I have something better in mind for you.” She turned toward Owein and took on a soft, maternal expression. “If you will be part of the family, and I hope you will, you should sleep closer to us. The rooms I had prepared ... they’re far away. And likely drafty. Let me set you up somewhere nicer.”

Merritt whispered, “It’s no problem—” then coughed.

She gave him a wry look. “I do wonder what you two are discussing.” Then, with a wink, she said, “It’s no trouble at all. This way.”

She led them down a marble hallway lined with Indian rugs, bronze busts, and a few Grecian vases—a part of the house that had not been included on the earlier tour—and Merritt had a feeling they would be staying here far longer than either of them had initially planned.

Chapter 8

March 1, 1847, Boston, Massachusetts

The preparations were made in quick order, with Mrs. Thornton alerted and on her way to Boston, a windsource pigeon sent to Beth at Whimbrel House, Hulda’s bags packed, and the kinetic ferry ticket purchased. Unfortunately, due to the limited number of ferries, Hulda could not depart across the Atlantic until tomorrow.

Which was how she ended up staying the night with her sister.

“Itisan awfullylongtime to wait for matrimony is all I’m saying!” Danielle spoke with a mouth half full of food, which would have been an atrocity if any guests besides Hulda had come to dine in her home in Cambridge. Danielle, wearing a cream gown with far too much lace for Hulda’s liking, paused, chewed, and swallowed. Then, wielding a fork like a sword, added, “Though I suppose a winter wedding wouldn’t be very nice, especially on an island. But really, wouldn’t you prefer a church?”

“We’re having a Christian wedding,” Hulda pressed. “No need to move the entire household across the bay to wed in a church.” Or at the church Hulda attended in Boston, which was a fine building with beautiful windows. It would just be a pain, in the long run. And the streets would be crowded.

Danielle shrugged. “When John asked me for my hand, I couldn’t wait! Each day was painful.”

John, her husband, simply smiled from the head of the table and cut into his portion of chicken.

“Boys,” Danielle addressed her children now, “don’t ever make your belles wait on you. If you’re going to marry them, marry them!”

“Gross,” Benjamin retorted, also around a half mouthful of food.

Hulda rolled her eyes. “I told you, he’s not making me wait—”

“No, you are the cruel one in this matter!” Danielle stabbed the air with her fork. “Really, Hulda, men have needs—”

“Danielle,” John said softly, no food in his mouth. “Perhaps not in front of the children.”

Danielle sighed and slumped in her chair, not even having the wherewithal to blush. “Very well.” She set down the fork. “I’m finished. Hulda, meet me in the parlor when you’re done.”

Pushing away from the table, Danielle sauntered out. Her maid slipped in, graceful as a swan, to remove her dishes.

“Good luck,” John offered.

“Thank you.” Hulda speared a potato. “I fear I’ll need it.”

Hulda did not rush her meal but finished in an orderly fashion. She was antsy to reach Merritt, yet the matter was entirely out of her hands until she arrived in London. Things she couldn’t control often frustrated her, but what was she to do for it? Augurists, even those weak as herself, were a rare breed. Her grandmother had taught her everything she knew, but her grandmother had been neither a master nor a scholar. Still, perhaps while overseas, Hulda might be able to find a tutor of some sort, or a very well-written book on the subject, thus ensuring she learned more in future readings.

In the meantime, Hulda forced equanimity into her thoughts and actions. Forced herself to be meticulous, and to stay occupied. She offered to assist the small staff with cleanup, but was turned away, so she found herself trudging to the parlor, where far too many candles had been lit. Danielle sat on a powder-blue sofa within, working on a cross-stitch of a sunflower. She held it up as Hulda took the seat beside her.

“I’m going to hang it in James’s room,” she said, naming her youngest son. “What do you think?”

Hulda nodded. “It looks well.” Danielle had a knack for tiny, uniform stitches. Hulda had always considered her fingers too long to achieve such a thing, though her sewing was generally considered neat.

Setting the cross-stitch aside, Danielle said, “I’m sorry if I was brash at the table. I was just having some fun. I so seldom get the opportunity to tease my beloved sister.”

Hulda waved the apology away. “I’m very accustomed to your antics. No offense was taken.”

“Still, an apology is due.” Reaching forward, Danielle grasped Hulda’s left hand in both of her own, admiring the ring there. “He’s got good taste.” She grinned. “He’s a fine-looking fellow. Just needs a haircut.”

Hulda snorted. “I don’t think it will ever happen. In truth, I believe it grew long out of sheer laziness, but at this point he keeps it to vex people, most of all me.”

Danielle shrugged. “Perhaps it will come back in fashion. But perhaps not. One cannot set a trend if he spends all his time alone on an island.” She paused. “Are you all right, living there? Away from the city and all the people?”

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