Page 63 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

“You don’t have to do that,” I insisted. “I made the mess and now I will have to clean it up.”

“Yes, but the question remains: Why did you make the mess?”

I hung up another coat. “I have just told you.”

She cocked her head. “Willa, I saw you put all those coats, cloaks, hats, and gloves into that wardrobe with such care the day we arrived. Everything was perfectly aligned. There was no need to reorganize the closet.”

“Maybe I just needed something to do after I helped your mother with dinner party preparations. I’m not used to sitting down. If we were back home, Margaret would have given me a long list of tasks to keep my hands and mind busy. A maid sitting still is the root of trouble, she says.”

“Or maybe,” Emily said as if she were just having a thought for the very first time, “you are organizing the wardrobe to recover from your walk with Officer Thomas?”

I glanced at the closed bedroom door. “How did you know?” I didn’t see a purpose in denying it.

“One of the bellmen told me when I came into the hotel that my maid went for a walk with a young man. I asked him to describe the young man, and he described Officer Thomas down to the smallest detail. I told him that he was so good at it that he should work for the police and describe suspects to them. If he saw a crime being committed the culprit would surely be caught.”

I felt my face grow hot. “Yes, I went on a walk with Ma—Officer Thomas. He wanted to talk to me again about my brother’s murder.”

“I see.” She sat on the settee and removed her hat with a large dry flower on the brim. “And what did he say?”

I quickly told her about Matthew saying Mr.Johnson didn’t kill my brother and what he knew about the Reader.

“And was that all?”

“Yes, of course.” I held my hands behind my back and twisted my left wrist with my right hand. I wanted so much for this conversation to be over so that I could go back to searching for my brother’s diary.

“I don’t think so.” Emily brushed at the sleeve of her dress. “When are you going to tell me about your relationship with the young police officer?”

I blinked at her. “My relationship?”

She looked up at me. “Yes, Willa. It is clear the two of you have a history together. He said that he knew you and your brother.”

I blushed. “Henry had a way of finding trouble, as I have told you. Ma—Officer Thomas had arrested him in the past. He was lenient on Henry, and since then, he kept an eye on him. I met Officer Thomas through Henry. Because he was so kind to my brother, he is curious about what happened to him. I believe the two were friends in their way.”

She nodded. “Maybe. But that is not the whole story. It does not tell me why he looks at you the way that he does. I may not have much experience in such things, but I do know love when I see it. He has love”—she paused—“for you.”

“I don’t—”

“Please, Willa, don’t lie to me about this. We are partners in finding your brother’s killer. To be that, we have to trust each other. If you keep talking around my questions, I will lose trust in you.”

“He asked me to marry him,” I said in a rush. “It was a year ago.”

“And what did you say to that?” she asked, keeping her expression neutral.

“I said no.” My answer was barely above a whisper, but Emily was a good listener and I knew she heard it.

“You said no. You surprise me, Willa,” she said with a bit of awe in her voice. “Many young women in your station and even in mine would be elated at the chance to be the mistress of their own home, with children and the trappings of being a wife and mother. But you said no?”

“I’m not saying that I don’t want those things someday,” I said quietly.

“Then why did you not take them when they were offered to you?” she asked as if she really wanted to know, not to pry but because she was curious.

“I have my work...”

“And keeping a home is not work?” She leaned back on the settee. “I would say it’s the hardest work there is. Other than gardening and being in the kitchen, I detest everything about it. Vinnie is sure to be better at the occupation than I ever will.”

“Maybe it is more work than I am ready to do then,” I said, hoping that our conversation would come to a natural end.

She smiled when I said that. “To think of domestic things is to give up internal thoughts. A new life would come at great cost.”

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