Page 34 of Beyond Montana's Sky
The butler grinned. “All the better after listening to fine Sunday preachin’, although my wife and daughters stayed behind to get everything ready.” He stepped aside and waved a long, thin arm toward the left. “You know where the coatroom is. Matilda will take your things.”
They moved past the butler into the wide entryway, a fitting showcase for Delia Norton, with green-and-gold patterned wallpaper and a similar-colored Persian rug. Their hostess stood near the staircase, where the bannister ended with the statue of a woman in a toga, holding a flame aloft.
Delia smiled, greeting Miss Taylor and Elsie.
Edith and Maggie turned left into the coatroom, where Matilda, an older Negro with her prominent cheekbones perhaps showing some Indian blood, was hanging up Miss Taylor’s swans down cape and Elsie’s shabby coat on two hooks in a long row, already three-quarters full of coats and wraps.
Maggie preceded Edith into the small room. “Good afternoon, Matilda. I hear you missed church today. I’m sure Delia appreciates your help.”
The woman let out a rich chuckle. “Reverend Joshua promised to give us the highlights of his sermon tonight.” She helped Maggie out of her coat and hung it up.
“Ah, but the singing is the best part.” Maggie clasped her hands together, and then winced. “Although I suppose I shouldn’t say so in my minister’s home.”
“Now, now, Mrs. Baxter, what makes you think my girls and I weren’t singing hymns as we set up?” Another chuckle followed the first. “Loud, since no one was home.” She reached for the shoulders of Edith’s coat. “Let me help you out of that, Mrs. Grayson.”
“Thank you, Matilda.”
Edith had never become comfortable interacting with servants as if they were equal. In Boston, one was supposed to barely notice them, and, certainly, rarely thank them.
Living in Sweetwater Springs changed her perception. Edith couldn’t keep a maid more than a few months before the girl up and married one of the many persistent suitors wanting a wife. She’d learned that the nicer and more generous she was, the longer—at least by a month or two—the maids stayed.
In addition, interacting more on an equal level, as now with Matilda, humanized the few servants in Sweetwater Springs. Still, she never knew what to say. Now, she merely smiled a thank you and left the coatroom.
Delia Norton, looking anything but a drab minister’s wife, waited next to her two guests of honor, the Collier ladies. Because of her father’s wealth, she wore expensive clothing and jewelry, sometimes with a dramatic flair.
Today’s gown in molten gold, with jewelry to match, gave Edith a stab of envy. She couldn’t imagine herself wearing such an outfit—ornate, but tasteful. However, the color was perfect for Delia, turning her hazel eyes gold and burnishing her skin—a warmer shade of olive than Maggie’s.
A quick glance into the parlor showed Mary Norton, Delia’s mother-in-law, in a simple blue dress, talking to a small group of women. Gentle Mrs. Norton was as different from Delia as could be. For years, she’d worn the same hairstyle—hair pulled tightly in a bun—and one “good” dress. The elder Nortons had always chosen to live frugally, distributing charity to those in need. When their son Joshua returned from his missionary work in Africa, the story goes, he’d practically forced new clothing on his parents.
Edith hadn’t ever become perfectly at ease with the more relaxed manners of the West—particularly the common use of given names. One didnotaddress a minister’s wife in a familiar manner. But in the case of having two Reverend Nortons and two Mrs. Nortons for one small town, Delia’s choice to go by her first name and saveMrs. Nortonfor her mother-in-law made practical sense.
With an outstretched hand and warm smile, Delia welcomed them. “Hello, Edith, Maggie, I’m so glad you could make it, especially on such short notice.”
Maggie chuckled. “We’re eager to meet our latest arrivals.”
When Delia introduced them to the guests, Miss Collier extended a hand in greeting. The librarian looked to be in her fifties, attractive in an unassuming way. She wore a smoky-blue dress and a string of pearls. Although she seemed perfectly possessed, her spectacles didn’t conceal the hint of shyness lurking in her intelligent gray eyes.
Edith instinctively liked her and greeted the newcomer with genuine warmth, taking her hand and smiling. “Miss Collier, I regret that after my brother’s wedding, my son and I are moving back to Boston, so I’ll not see the new library. But I’m sure my family and friends will write me about all the details.”
“Of course, Mrs. Grayson. I’m so glad we could meet today.”
Edith nodded, released her hand, and stepped away so Maggie could greet their newest arrivals.
Cora Collier, a pretty, animated version of her aunt, was busy talking with Elsie Bailey so Edith didn’t move on to meet her instead waiting beside Maggie. But she eyed the young woman’s seafoam-colored dress, wondering if the paler green hue would bring a scold from Dr. Angus about poisonous dyes.
Maggie took Miss Collier’s hand, shadows lingering in her eyes. “I don’t think books will ever be anything but a treat for me. With my late husband, I had to hide my books from him or he’d destroy them.”
Not for the first time, Edith’s palms itched to slap Oswald Baxter. She thanked God the odious man was dead and buried, and, in marrying Caleb, Maggie would have a husband who’d encourage her to follow her heart’s content. Hadn’t her brother sold his betrothed the bathhouse—before they were engaged, that is, and against his better judgment—because she wanted to run her own business?
“What you must have endured!” Miss Collier squeezed Maggie’s hand. “I can’t even imagine the pain, the fear.”
Delia must have told Miss Collier about Oswald’s abuse.
“I’ve come to see that was one of his many ways to control me.” Maggie released Rose’s hand.
Edith stepped into their conversation. “Maggie will never have to be afraid again,” she said stanchly, “My brother would never hurt her. Indeed, the besotted man plies her with books and trinkets and any other thing she desires.”
“Or I don’t desire.” Maggie laughed. “There’s no stopping Caleb, especially when it comes to my daughter. He spoils her, protects her….”
