Page 23 of If The Fates Allow
“The boy has been to school and gained fantastical ideas,” Bonnie said while father and son continued to glare at each other. She looked lovely today, dressed in a handsome burgundy tea dress instead of her usual dowdy wrapper and apron. Her dark brown hair was styled as well, drawn up into a neat coiffure with rolls and plaits that only her slender fingers could manage. “You should listen and be proud that Calvin is looking for ways to improve your family’s fortune.”
If an outsider ever heard household staff members speak to an employer in such a way, they would be appalled. Outraged beyond belief. Yet where Margaret Fairweather lacked the talent to reason with her husband, her faithful companion excelled at it. And why shouldn’t she?
Bonnie had nearly a lifetime of practice.
“The mill is our future, Bon.” The reddening in his cheeks lessened, and Willa exhaled slowly as her father poured himself more wine. “You know it, and I know it.”
“I also know times are changing,” Bonnie said, laying her hand on his. “Who are we to argue with the changing times?”
Her father spared a glance at the tiny woman he respected more than anyone else. “Indeed.”
Sweethearts.
They had been sweethearts growing up.
Not only did the entire county know how Stephen Fairweather preferred to bed serving girls rather than his own wife, but they also remembered the time he had once fallen madly in love with one of them. A pretty kitchen maid named Bonnie, who loved him in return. It had been quite a scandal, and when forced to give her up and marry a bride worthy of becoming a Fairweather wife, Stephen Fairweather had done so without much of a fight. But in a move no one expected, he made Bonnie a permanent fixture in their lives, requiring her to work as his new wife’s companion forevermore.
“But there will be no land or any future if John Richards is not swayed to marry you, Willa,” Bonnie intoned, cutting her meat carefully as any grand lady would. “Invite him for another visit now that the repairs are done on the bridge.”
Knowing not to argue, Willa nodded. “I will.”
“And do not allow your time with Richards to conflict with those visits from Dr. Anderson.” Bonnie paused in her cutting, issuing a clear message with her stern gaze. “Sharing is not something men handle very well.”
Not caring to be chastised as if she were a child, Willa’s temper roared to life, burning as hot as the flames in the dining room’s ornate fireplace. “And yet, some women are required to do so for a lifetime.”
She should not have said it.
It was reckless.
It was dangerous.
It would get them all in trouble.
Her statement elicited a gasp from Lucy and a horrified look from her mother. Bonnie remained unmoved, as did Cal when their father laid his knife and fork down to address her.
“I’ve never been the type of man to turn away a free service.” He didn’t raise his voice—he never did—that deadly calm her father possessed was enough to frighten anyone. “But I will end Dr. Anderson’s time at Haven House if he hinders an attachment between you and Richards. I’ll even go as far as to suggest to Ulrich that he send his nephew away. Is that what you want, Wilhelmina?”
“No, sir.” Head down, Willa searched for a reason to let Noah continue his visits. “I believe we’re making progress, and Dr. Anderson’s treatments are helping me become stronger so I can be a good wife to John Richards.”
None of that was true. While she and Noah did use their time to discuss her health, they also spent entirely too much time chatting about other things. Bonnie knew this as the eyes and ears of the house, yet she remained surprisingly silent.
“That’s good to hear,” her father said, and with that, rose from the table and left them.
Having gone pale there at the end, Cal went for his wine glass when the dining room door clicked closed, and their father was well and truly gone. “Thank you, Bonnie.”
Bonnie didn’t reply, too busy assessing Margaret. “How are you doing down there?”
Willa noticed her mother appeared more angry than scared now that they were alone. “Thank you for alerting us to his arrival,” her mothersaid to Bonnie. “I knew we were close to the mill's holiday closing date, but I didn’t think it would be this soon.”
“The mill is slowing down for the holidays earlier than normal because of the lack of pine harvest. That means he’ll be home from here until January arrives.” Bonnie took a deep draw from her own wine goblet. “Everyone best ready themselves.”
“I’ll write to John this afternoon while you visit with Noah,” Lucy said, her voice barely above a whisper. “We should know by tomorrow when he’s available to visit.”
“Why areyouwriting to him, Lucy?” Cal asked.
Lucy’s smile brightened in an instant. “John and I are friends, much like Dr. Anderson and Willa.”
Margaret paused in bringing her wine goblet to her lips, staring at Willa over its rim. In the last couple of years, her mother had become many things.
