Geneva: Garden of Joy (Brides of Grace Hill Book 1)

by Lisa Prysock

  “’Tis enough to make my head spin!” Mama sank into her rocking chair after a few spins about the room, her face lit up with joy to see her daughter’s reaction. “I must sit down.”

  When Geneva landed on the parlor bench to catch her own breath, she looked directly at Father. “Papa, you will let me go, won’t you?”

  Chapter 4.

  Courage & Fortitude

  Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest. Joshua 1:9

  Dear Elizabeth,” Geneva wrote at her writing desk from the solace of her room as she attempted to pen yet another letter to her friend a few days later. As it was one of her days off from her work at the Fenway Street Mission, she had all morning to try to find the right words. She found herself exasperated at every attempt. She crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it over her shoulder to join the growing pile of wasted paper. An hour later, she had given up all attempts to write to her dearest childhood friend. What words could she find to convey the truth Elizabeth would not turn away in disbelief? The hours turned to days, and the days to weeks.

  As the date of her departure neared, she found herself cheered only by a letter from her Scottish relations to bid her farewell as Elizabeth continued to refuse all communication with her. Little else could console her wounds as this meant Elizabeth blamed her entirely for the kiss Bryn had thrust upon her, or at the very least, felt the need to distance Bryn protectively. Cousin Annabelle and her mother, Aunt Edith, had both written in response to her letter containing the news she would be leaving for America in less than a fortnight. The letters were comforting, considering none of the friends from her usual set would call upon or receive her. Aunt Edith’s letter brought the usual news of Uncle Jonathon being busy with tending to matters of business pertaining to the general store they owned and operated below stairs from where they lived on a steep, charming Edinburgh street. Annabelle’s letter brought news about her sewing projects, Christmas, books she had recently read, and how she was coping with the boredom of winter; anxious as ever for spring.

  The days were filled with preparations for her Atlantic Ocean crossing. She would board a large passenger ship in Liverpool with Polly as chaperon using the boarding passes Aunt Millie had sent. Mama had taken charge of packing her trunk, making sure she had petticoats, corsets, pantalets, and crinolines; stockings and shoes; handkerchiefs; skirts, dresses, and gowns; night gowns; scarves, gloves, and hats; shawls and an extra cloak; toiletries and linens; writing paper, pens, and an inkwell; and a few treasures from home. This included a set of pewter candle holders; a teapot and one set of dishes; her favorite books, piano sheet music; a quilt made with Mama’s own hands; and a necklace from her maternal grandmother. Geneva added her sewing and crochet; a few journals; a bundle of letters of sentimental or significant value; and various attempts of her own writing pieces, possible treasures down the road. She would add a dressing robe; her Bible; a prayer book; her personal journals; and a few last minute essentials just before the journey. The trunk was loaded to near capacity except for a few dresses she would wear between now and then.

  Papa continued to seem distracted as he witnessed the outright cold behavior of his daughter’s friends and their families as they distanced themselves upon hearing various rumors. Vicar Rosemont refrained from the idea of reporting Bryn to the constable upon hearing his wife’s views on maintaining a spirit of peace and love in spite of the turmoil, but Jen had the impression he might attempt a meeting with Edward Palmer to sort things out in an attempt to end the spread of false rumors. Geneva hadn’t expected any of her friends to open their doors given the circumstances; but before setting sail, she had to at least try to appeal to a long history of friendship as she made the rounds to visit each one.

  Met with closed doors, outright rudeness, or alleged excuses, her heart sank further into despair as one by one, each of the friends in her customary circle turned her away. By now, the story Bryn had spread had reached their ears. She was feeling rather like the Bible character of Job. Sarah Rudding’s door never opened; Lydia Kranwell was not at home; and Anne Carmen’s mother turned her away with a polite excuse Anne wasn’t feeling well enough to receive callers. Oliver Boggs was incredulously not at home, though she had seen him enter the house moments before as she walked up his busy street. He lived near Mrs. Goffin’s home and the library. Charles Simpson’s mother accepted her calling card, but Charles never replied and did not return the call. At least his mother had been warm and polite. Ned Taylor crossed the street in town to avoid running directly into her, leaving her standing in the middle of a boardwalk on Queen Street just outside Queen’s Arcade with her mouth agape. All refused to welcome her in their midst.

  “I forgive them all, dear Lord…” she repeated under her breath as she blinked back tears at each closed door. “They know not what they do…” It helped her to recite those words from within her deeply broken heart, heavy from suffering through each closed door. The attempted visits left her emotionally drained and feeling colder than January icicles. Ned’s actions left her reeling in the middle of the street. Tears of anger and sorrow stung her cheeks, turning them a bright shade of red; partly from the weather returning to frigid temperatures and partly from embarrassment. She found her way home through teary eyes, thanking God she would soon board a passenger ship from Liverpool.

  Geneva considered attempts to speak to Bryn or his parents directly, but she instinctively feared the door would only slam in her face there, too. She prayed lengthy prayers at bedtime, hoping God would find a way to bring mending to her relationships before departure. The only answer she could sense in her soul as the days neared was the uncanny feeling Papa needed to see there was simply no other way forward for her if she remained in Cardiff. It occurred to her the good Lord must truly desire her to travel to America to allow so many hearts to close their doors to her in Wales.

  Vicar Rosemont had always doted on his youngest daughter, though he loved both of his daughters equally. Lillian had always been closer with Mama and Papa had favored Geneva. He had reluctantly agreed to permit his youngest to accept Millicent’s offer, but a sorrow remained apparent in his eyes from the first mention of America.

  One afternoon a few days after Ned Taylor’s blatant behavior, Geneva was pleasantly surprised when she answered a knock at the front door to reveal a sheepishly grinning Sarah Rudding. Jen was so stunned she remained at the door with her mouth open; one hand still on the knob while Sarah swept into the cozy foyer with the Walnut wooden doors, trim, staircase, and baseboards. Sarah discarded gloves, bonnet, and wraps while chattering away cheerfully as if nothing had ever been amiss between them.

  “I’m aghast at the way they have treated you, Geneva. I don’t believe a word of Bryn’s story!” Sarah related once they were seated in the parlor near the fireplace with cups of warm cider. Polly had placed a cinnamon stick in each mug. She delivered a tea tray with a pretty china plate piled high with slices of freshly baked bara brith, orange muffins, slices of cheese, and scones. A variety of jams, preserves, and butter accompanied the plate, along with a pot of steeping tea for when they finished their cider. Mama was out visiting a friend from the church, thus affording them the privacy required for Sarah to speak her mind freely. Polly left them to their tea, returning to her ironing in the kitchen where she could warm the flat iron on the cook stove, thankful Geneva finally had a caller from among her usual set of friends.

  “I fear you are the only one who has shown any sensible thought in the matter,” Jen replied, sitting up straight on the edge of the parlor bench, eager to hear what her only loyal friend had to say.

  “Elizabeth is slowly coming around to seeing the truth, but still plans to marry him. Truthfully, I think she is in for a difficult road ahead, given Bryn’s tendencies.” Sarah sipped the cider and bit into a scone. “He is obviously still in love with you! I don’t know how Elizabeth w
ill overcome this.”

  Her eyebrow shot up and she bit her bottom lip. Tendencies indeed! If only Sarah knew what she had witnessed and not simply the rumors of what she had experienced on her own front porch! Perhaps Sarah had heard other rumors. In any case, she didn’t want to know more than she already knew. She had to agree with Polly. Some things were better left forgotten and given to God. “Time heals many wounds. As I explained to Mrs. Berkley, Bryn and I would make a disastrous couple. Deep down, I’m fairly certain he knows it. Have you tried Mama’s blackberry jam with the scones?”

  “Thank you, I don’t mind if I do!” Sarah spread a spoonful of the jam on a scone and proceeded to wave the spoon about as she talked. “I think the others in our circle of friends are slowly coming around to see the truth as well. They just haven’t figured out how to stand up to Bryn without losing his friendship. I think they view you as the more forgiving in the situation. I believe everyone intends to salvage their relationship with you, but they haven’t managed a way to do so as yet without risking his temper. They are torn between the social significance of Vicar Rosemont and Edward Palmer.”

  Geneva kept her eye on the spoon but listened intently, digesting every word. It was the first bit of information she’d had since the day of Mrs. Berkley’s visit. Her heart flooded with hope the matter would eventually be resolved, though she would likely be on board a vessel crossing the Atlantic by then. For her parents’ sake, she wished the matter to be resolved. This was their community; their home; Father’s parish, charge, and flock; the life he and Mama had built together over the years. She hadn’t wished to tarnish or diminish their reputation, but sadly, the damage was done. All she could do now was hope God would intervene and clear the family name. Sarah’s words gave her a bit of comfort knowing truth would eventually prevail. God had his eye on the sparrow after all. Nights of weeping had not gone unnoticed by the Lord. “I am hoping Bryn and Elizabeth will tell the truth rather than paint me at fault. They both know what happened was not my fault deep down inside.”

  “It won’t be much longer before all of the matter tumbles out, I can assure you! Bryn’s story is not in line with your character. Anyone who truly knows you knows this. They see through the muck!” Sarah took another bite of her scone.

  “Muck indeed!” Jen interjected.

  “He’s had an undeniable yearning for you for many years. Anyone with any bit of knowledge of Bryn is well aware he is the cause of this dreadful mire. He has been over the moon about you for ages. Everyone knows when they talk of it… when he and Elizabeth are not about. Oh, I’m sorry! Would you like to use the spoon to try some of the jam as well?” She returned the spoon to the jar and sat back in Father’s armchair, laughing at herself.

  “It helps my heart a great deal to hear this news, Sarah. Sadly, it is too late now, at least where I am concerned,” she remarked, picking up the spoon to dab some of the jam on her own scone. She wished she could laugh with her friend, but her heart had been broken for so many weeks she found it difficult to even smile, except when she thought of her new life in America. “I’m so glad you came to cheer me up, but I must tell you I will be leaving Cardiff soon. I would much rather be leaving on a better note than with this terrible shadow cast into our midst. Nonetheless, I simply have decided to distance myself from all of this. What does it really matter in the long run? I know the truth. God knows the truth. I pray Bryn will be a good husband to Elizabeth. I’m certain he has just been confused. In the meantime, I board a ship and set sail for America in a matter of days. I’m going to be a teacher at my aunt’s mission school for orphans in Kentucky. I believe I may even find time for my writing ambitions.”

  Sarah’s mouth dropped open as she stirred the cinnamon stick in her mug of cider nervously. “America! Oh, Geneva, I’m going to miss you so very much! A few days…? This is perfectly dreadful news to me, but I know how you have felt called to teach and write. You’ve always had your nose in a book since I’ve known you. I am surprised this is happening so soon for you, but I am hoping this will all be resolved before you depart. How long will you be gone?”

  “I’ll miss you too! Your visit has given me renewed hope. This has been such a strain on all of us. Mama keeps reminding me this too shall pass. You will write to me once I’m settled, won’t you?” She proceeded to explain the particulars to her friend, thankful the Lord had seen fit to give her one loyal friend in the situation who brought comforting news in her bleak storm. “I may not be able to return for quite some time. America will be my new home.”

  “Do you remember how much we enjoyed our visit to London last October with your cousin, Annabelle, and Elizabeth?” Sarah asked when they had finished discussing Geneva’s plans.

  “Ah, ydw… a visit remaining firmly among my favorite memories!” Jen smiled broadly.

  “Did you ever think Elizabeth, or Bryn would behave in this manner after we enjoyed so many wonderful occasions together?”

  “Indeed not!”

  “’Tis reprehensible!” Sarah studied her friend’s face and bit her lip, evidently attempting to steer the subject to matters more pleasant in nature. “My favorite part of the trip was purchasing new hats at the fashionable milliner shop in Mayfair!”

  “Yes, the bit of clothing and goods I purchased in London then shall have to do for my voyage. Mama says they will seem good as new to everyone in America.” Remembering her manners, Jen held out the plate toward Sarah. “Would you like to try an orange muffin with a slice of cheese on top?”

  “Perhaps half a muffin… diolch[11]!”

  “My favorite part was when Spurgeon stepped up to the pulpit two weeks after the tragedy,” Jen remarked. “I’m glad we weren’t in attendance on the first dreadful Sunday night.”

  “As I recall… it was the nineteenth of October. We didn’t arrive until a few days after the nineteenth and all of London spoke of little else. Yes, it was certainly a memorable moment when he returned to the pulpit… a moment I shan’t ever forget,” Sarah agreed.

  “Everyone thought he would never preach again after such a terrible panic. They thought it would be the end of him.” Jen marveled as she looked out of the window, barely noticing a dairy wagon rumbling as it passed through the quaint neighborhood where similar cottages and white picket fences lined both sides of the street. “He shocked the world when he stepped out again… only two weeks later! To think we were there to witness his rise to the challenge that surely must have broken his heart…”

  “I believe it certainly did break Mr. Spurgeon’s heart. I read something about it later in the papers,” Sarah confessed.

  Geneva rose and carefully placed a few more logs on the fire. “Miss Meadow says if the Queen of England reads the newspapers and is well versed in the politics of the day, then all fine ladies should keep themselves educated in such matters. Mama remains old-fashioned, insisting true ladies at least appear ignorant and refrain from such discussion in the presence of gentlemen if they are to attract husbands.”

  “Your Mama and mine are old-fashioned in this day and age!” Sarah paused and reflected, adding, “It was exceptionally kind of our Miss Meadows to permit us to stay at the school as former graduates. Wasn’t it nice we were able to avoid the expense of a hotel or troubling distant connections for an invite? I’m surprised Vicar Rosemont wasn’t upset about our attendance to Surrey Hall with such enormous crowds, though I took comfort knowing Miss Meadow agreed to chaperon us. I worried about during the coach ride all the way home. Annabelle certainly returned to Scotland elated to have had such an opportunity.”

  “Father… upset about our going to hear Spurgeon preach? On the contrary! He is, after all, a like-minded Baptist preacher. He can be counted among those who staunchly admire and support Spurgeon’s work. He was thankful we were not there when the crowds trampled those people, though somewhat surprised we ventured out to attend a second service in the same venue after such a terrible incident.”

  “I recall how nervous I was
for all of us on the return journey to Wales as to what his reaction might be, along with all of our parents at the time… and how grand the Royal Surrey Gardens and Music Hall were to us!” Sarah replied.

  “It was Mama who seemed to have the most concern,” Jen admitted. “She finds Miss Meadows a bit unconventional in her methods. When I asked if she would have missed such an event given the same opportunity, it rather quickly put things in perspective for both my parents. The fact Spurgeon rose to the challenge and ignored the bad press remarks has often given me courage during my own recent ordeal. Many a long night of late I have been wide awake, pondering and pleading with the Lord for the strength to go forward… as he surely must have done in the wake of tragedy. The event turned out to be one of those moments in history the good Lord knew I would need to witness. Spurgeon’s example has given me a great magnitude of courage and filled my heart with old-fashioned fortitude. I was cheering him on in my soul when he stepped up to preach again the night we were so very privileged to hear him speak. ‘Tis a night I shall never forget.”

  “I am truly thankful to hear you have gained so much strength after our decision to attend such a controversial event. Though our mothers may be old-fashioned in these modern times, there is something to be said for old-fashioned fortitude and weathering through the storms of life.” Sarah reached for a slice of bara brith. “They say on the night we were at Surrey Hall, the crowds were twice what they were the first night. Can you imagine being there when the railing collapsed from the crowd trying to exit the building and someone causing pandemonium by creating false alarm about a fire?”