Page 29 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

“My father told me that when we move into the old homestead I can pick the wallpaper.”

“And what will you pick?”

“Flowers of some sort, like I have here. I dearly love flowers. Perhaps roses. Flowers on the wall remind me spring will come even in the deepest trench of winter. Flowers are hope, you see.” She looked out the window into the night. “I have been working in my greenhouse preparing for spring. I do love growing things. Do you?”

“I do. I would have chosen to be a gardener if that was a good job for a woman.”

“And why is it not? If you are good at growing things, you should do that. If you enjoy it, you should do that even more.”

I shook my head. “I like my position, miss. Gardening is the work of men.”

“But more housewives garden.”

“Perhaps it is a different standard when there is money to be made,” I said. “I do not know who makes these types of rules, but they are there nonetheless.”

“Standards are things I do not expect to follow. I will not be told to believe this or that or like this person or that person. The only person making decisions for me is me,” she said. “Now that I know that you enjoy the garden, you can help me when spring comes. It is a busy time.”

“I would love to if Miss O’Brien would allow it.”

She shook her head. “If I ask her if I can borrow you for an afternoon here and there, she will allow it. By the time spring comes, we will be working on the new old house in earnest. There will be much work to be done in the gardens there. I don’t believe the man who owned the property had taken as much care of it as he should. My father is building a greenhouse off of the dining room for my sister and me. He knows how important the gardens are to us.” She pressed her lips together. “You have a letter to show me?”

I pulled the letter from the pocket of my apron and held it out to her.

Emily took the letter over to her writing desk and sat down. “You should sit too,” she said.

There was the bed, and I didn’t want to sit there. It didn’t seem right as a maid to sit on my mistress’s bed.

There was a small chair in the corner of the room. It looked like it was more suited for a child than an adult. At the very least, it was suited for a woman of Emily’s small frame. I didn’t think it could hold a woman of my size.

I perched on the edge of the seat and prayed that the chair wouldn’t give way under me.

Emily opened the letter and read it. She stared at the page for a long time, a much longer time than she needed to. It was only a couple of sentences, and their meaning was very much to the point.

After what seemed like an eternity, she folded the letter up again and tucked it into the envelope. “This is the proof that we needed.”

“Proof of what?”

“That your brother, Henry Noble, wasn’t killed in an accident. He was murdered.”

Chapter Eleven

The next morning, I was washing up the dishes from the family’s breakfast when Miss O’Brien came into the kitchen. “Willa, you can go help Miss Dickinson in the greenhouse when you are done there.”

My eyes went wide. I had no idea that Emily would actually ask Miss O’Brien for me to help with the garden.

“What about my other duties?” I asked.

“Oh, I still expect you to get those done too. If Miss Dickinson really wants your help with her plants, that can’t take away from your other responsibilities. I hired you to help with the household, not the flowers,” she grumbled.

“I will get all my responsibilities done. It’s very gracious of you, Miss O’Brien, to let me help Miss Dickinson in the garden. I know the garden is very important to her.”

Miss O’Brien pursed her lips together. “She does like to grow things and is very good at it,” she conceded. “It is a good occupation for a young lady to have. It’s much more worthy of her time than scribbling on those pieces of paper like she does. Do you know how many times I have to ask her to wash her hands before she bakes the morning bread? Her fingers are constantly stained with pencil lead.” She clucked her tongue in disapproval.

After Miss O’Brien left the kitchen to tend to her next task, I made short work of washing and drying the remaining breakfast dishes and went in search of Miss Dickinson.

The greenhouse was a small glass building behind the main house. It was no bigger than the garden shed. Snow was falling by the time I put on my cloak and made it outside. Even though it was late morning, the skies were dark with the promise of more snow. I was grateful that Emily asked me to help with her plants. I longed for the greenness of spring and summer. It seemed now that everything was awash in gray and white.

Through the greenhouse’s many windows, I saw Emily and Miss Lavinia moving around inside. When I was just a few steps away from the cracked open door, I could hear their voices too.

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