The Endless Forest
Page 115
“Miss Wilde,” she said. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll go.”
She turned, and the misty half-light lit her face so for a moment she looked not so much pretty, but striking.
Her voice came a little hoarse. She said, “I’m getting married this afternoon.”
In her surprise Herlinde paused. “Oh,” she said. It was not enough, but nothing else came to mind. In English you were never to congratulate a lady about such a thing, that much she knew. The phrase came to her.
I wish you joy. No, that was too forward.
“May I wish you joy?”
Over the next few hours while she went about her work, Herlinde thought of Miss Calista Wilde, who had clearly come into a reversal of fortunes as many people dream of but few achieve. And yet, to Herlinde she looked like a person in mourning.
—
They were married in the same parlor where Daniel and Martha had married, almost exactly a day later. Callie wore the yellow gown Ethan had bought over her protests, along with the straw bonnet with its ivory silk roses and pale yellow buttercups clustered on the brim. It suited Callie, he was glad to see. At the right moment he produced a simple gold band and put it on Callie’s finger.
She looked very young, with a glow to her face that came from prodigious scrubbing, Ethan was sure, rather than any kind of bridelike emotions.
When the paperwork was out of the way Mrs. Cady stepped up to offer them supper.
“Your cousin and his bride wouldn’t stop yesterday, but I hope you will, Mr. and Mrs. Middleton. I’d like to hear the news from Paradise. We’ve all been so worried since word came of the flood.”
Ethan glanced at Callie. “Shall we stay for supper?”
“We aren’t starting for home?” She looked toward the door.
Mrs. Cady’s eyes went very round at such a rude reply, but her husband picked up the thread of the conversation.
“I certainly hope not,” said Mr. Cady. “Not in this weather.”
Another storm was coming on, pushing shards of light before it.
“Oh,” Callie said in a voice nothing like her own. “Well then, yes. Thank you, we will stay for supper. You are very kind.”
Mrs. Cady served them a roast of spring lamb, chicken and onion pie, and a veal ragout. There was a big bowl of sauerkraut and the last of the potatoes from the cellar as well. She would have rather given them the first of the new peas and beans and a salad, but the garden was late coming on this year and so they must make do, and Mrs. Middleton, won’t you try the sweet pickle relish?
Ethan was glad to see that Callie had lost some of her distracted air if only to apply herself to her food. He himself had had to produce an appetite out of thin air. He did justice to the cook’s skills out of obligation, at first, and then with some real admiration for her talent.
The whole time he talked with Mr. Cady about the damage done by the flood, what rebuilding had been done and what still waited, how much time and money would be invested before they were finished. About the casualties, which had been fewer than one might have expected but still enough to rock the village hard.
“Your own home?” Mrs. Cady asked. “I hope you didn’t lose that as well.”
“Callie lost her place,” Ethan said. He glanced at Callie and smiled. “But we’re going to rebuild. I’ve already started working on the plans.”
The look she gave him, wonder but also irritation, that he would assume so much.
The kitchen maid cleared the table and brought out a gingerbread cake, fragrant and glistening with sugar. At a word from Mrs. Cady she retired back to the kitchen, but on the way she sent one wistful look back to the untouched cake.
Mrs. Cady had drawn Callie into a conversation about the quality of the last batch of meal and where the very best molasses was to be found and did she think tomatoes were truly safe to serve? Because she, Millicent Cady, had never touched a tomato even when the mayor’s wife served them to her on the finest china. Then she asked about apples, and Callie’s expression turned from wary to thankful. Ethan couldn’t tell if Mrs. Cady’s interest was sincere, or if she was being charitable.
When they were ready to leave the lady took both Callie’s hands in her own and kissed her on the cheek.
She said, “I wish you joy, Mrs. Middleton. And when you next come to Johnstown, I hope you will visit with us again.”
Outside the rain had given way, finally, to the golden light of a summer evening. Overhead the sky was clear and blameless. Ethan offered Callie his arm just as the door behind them opened again and Mr. Cady called to them.
“Mrs. Cady says if you’ll wait just a moment she’ll send some provisions with you for your journey tomorrow. I believe she intends to give you a large slice of her gingerbread.”
He turned as if listening to someone in another part of the house, and left them there outside, half standing in the open door.
Voices drifted to them down the hallway, Mr. Cady speaking to a man, and then the kitchen maid who had served them, speaking to another servant as dishes clattered.
She was saying, “Looked a fright, didn’t she, when they showed up yesterday. Like a drowned cat. But today I hardly recognized her in that new gown. Everything new from stem to stern, looked like to me, and don’t it make you wonder?
“I’m not saying any such thing, Henrietta, and I’ll thank you not to put words in my mouth. Of course he can spend as much money as he likes on his wife, I wouldn’t dispute that. But all that expensive finery for somebody who’d rather be out working in the fields and don’t care a bit about those pretty things. It’s a waste, say I.
She turned, and the misty half-light lit her face so for a moment she looked not so much pretty, but striking.
Her voice came a little hoarse. She said, “I’m getting married this afternoon.”
In her surprise Herlinde paused. “Oh,” she said. It was not enough, but nothing else came to mind. In English you were never to congratulate a lady about such a thing, that much she knew. The phrase came to her.
I wish you joy. No, that was too forward.
“May I wish you joy?”
Over the next few hours while she went about her work, Herlinde thought of Miss Calista Wilde, who had clearly come into a reversal of fortunes as many people dream of but few achieve. And yet, to Herlinde she looked like a person in mourning.
—
They were married in the same parlor where Daniel and Martha had married, almost exactly a day later. Callie wore the yellow gown Ethan had bought over her protests, along with the straw bonnet with its ivory silk roses and pale yellow buttercups clustered on the brim. It suited Callie, he was glad to see. At the right moment he produced a simple gold band and put it on Callie’s finger.
She looked very young, with a glow to her face that came from prodigious scrubbing, Ethan was sure, rather than any kind of bridelike emotions.
When the paperwork was out of the way Mrs. Cady stepped up to offer them supper.
“Your cousin and his bride wouldn’t stop yesterday, but I hope you will, Mr. and Mrs. Middleton. I’d like to hear the news from Paradise. We’ve all been so worried since word came of the flood.”
Ethan glanced at Callie. “Shall we stay for supper?”
“We aren’t starting for home?” She looked toward the door.
Mrs. Cady’s eyes went very round at such a rude reply, but her husband picked up the thread of the conversation.
“I certainly hope not,” said Mr. Cady. “Not in this weather.”
Another storm was coming on, pushing shards of light before it.
“Oh,” Callie said in a voice nothing like her own. “Well then, yes. Thank you, we will stay for supper. You are very kind.”
Mrs. Cady served them a roast of spring lamb, chicken and onion pie, and a veal ragout. There was a big bowl of sauerkraut and the last of the potatoes from the cellar as well. She would have rather given them the first of the new peas and beans and a salad, but the garden was late coming on this year and so they must make do, and Mrs. Middleton, won’t you try the sweet pickle relish?
Ethan was glad to see that Callie had lost some of her distracted air if only to apply herself to her food. He himself had had to produce an appetite out of thin air. He did justice to the cook’s skills out of obligation, at first, and then with some real admiration for her talent.
The whole time he talked with Mr. Cady about the damage done by the flood, what rebuilding had been done and what still waited, how much time and money would be invested before they were finished. About the casualties, which had been fewer than one might have expected but still enough to rock the village hard.
“Your own home?” Mrs. Cady asked. “I hope you didn’t lose that as well.”
“Callie lost her place,” Ethan said. He glanced at Callie and smiled. “But we’re going to rebuild. I’ve already started working on the plans.”
The look she gave him, wonder but also irritation, that he would assume so much.
The kitchen maid cleared the table and brought out a gingerbread cake, fragrant and glistening with sugar. At a word from Mrs. Cady she retired back to the kitchen, but on the way she sent one wistful look back to the untouched cake.
Mrs. Cady had drawn Callie into a conversation about the quality of the last batch of meal and where the very best molasses was to be found and did she think tomatoes were truly safe to serve? Because she, Millicent Cady, had never touched a tomato even when the mayor’s wife served them to her on the finest china. Then she asked about apples, and Callie’s expression turned from wary to thankful. Ethan couldn’t tell if Mrs. Cady’s interest was sincere, or if she was being charitable.
When they were ready to leave the lady took both Callie’s hands in her own and kissed her on the cheek.
She said, “I wish you joy, Mrs. Middleton. And when you next come to Johnstown, I hope you will visit with us again.”
Outside the rain had given way, finally, to the golden light of a summer evening. Overhead the sky was clear and blameless. Ethan offered Callie his arm just as the door behind them opened again and Mr. Cady called to them.
“Mrs. Cady says if you’ll wait just a moment she’ll send some provisions with you for your journey tomorrow. I believe she intends to give you a large slice of her gingerbread.”
He turned as if listening to someone in another part of the house, and left them there outside, half standing in the open door.
Voices drifted to them down the hallway, Mr. Cady speaking to a man, and then the kitchen maid who had served them, speaking to another servant as dishes clattered.
She was saying, “Looked a fright, didn’t she, when they showed up yesterday. Like a drowned cat. But today I hardly recognized her in that new gown. Everything new from stem to stern, looked like to me, and don’t it make you wonder?
“I’m not saying any such thing, Henrietta, and I’ll thank you not to put words in my mouth. Of course he can spend as much money as he likes on his wife, I wouldn’t dispute that. But all that expensive finery for somebody who’d rather be out working in the fields and don’t care a bit about those pretty things. It’s a waste, say I.
